On an unpredictable wind

Way back in the mists of time, circa 1978-9, I remember reading or being read to a story about two young winds who are sent out into the world to use their powers (including rain and hail) for the first time. One uses his powers for good, the other for his own amusement which consists of tormenting humans. One was dubbed “vent doux”, the other “vent fou”. I have the idea that the story was made in the context of the South of France. Today’s ride featured another wind, an unpredictable, somewhat clueless but sometimes useful wind but who doesn't know not to rain when the sun is shinning. Since writing this post, I realized what its name is: “vent d’où”!

I set off from Rivière Éternité, climbing out of town with a useful following wind. I made L’Anse St-Jean in decent time, though intermittent sprinkling rain made it frustrating difficult to decide what I should be wearing. I concluded that I should have spent the night at that village as it was a “village relais”, it had better services for the tourist. Another shortish bit of biking brought me to Petit Saguenay. I had been hoping for lunch at Le Ti’ Sag (a fast food joint) but it opened two hours later than when Google said it would. 

To kill time, I rode down to Petit Saguenay’s quay. The 4 km ride were initially a frustration as I couldn’t seem to make any real speed despite the fact it was downhill. I eventually realized that the stiff wind was working against me! I admired the Fjord, though it was utterly impossible to spot belugas because of all the whitecaps! It took me less time to climb back up than it took me to go down. I opted for a lunch from the local grocery store which amounted to an equivalent to a Griffwich. 

After lunch, I set off again. The wind was relatively helpful, but at the same time unpredictable. The landscape was full of hills off of which the wind swirled and whirled so I rarely knew which way it would be going, one bit to the next. It added to the drain on my energy. Also, I was getting a shade low on water. This was more of an issue as I realized that I was stopping mid-hill to drink, not so much for hydration but in order to take a break. Furthermore, the 55 kilometres between Petit Saquenay and Saint-Simeon were relatively devoid of useful things like dépanners. There were houses hither and yon, but nowhere to stop. One surreal entrance had huge decorative iron gates and what was obviously a button to press to m with security. It was all the more surreal as the road that lead into the estate was only sand. 
One frustration was that I couldn’t figure where I was vis-à-vis the hills. This meant I couldn’t relax as I worried about husbanding my energy. About 20 kilometres from the 138, I threw caution to the wind, and fired up Google maps on my iPhone to see the altitude profile. It was downhill all the way to Saint-Simeon where I would face a hill. So, let her rip. It was a relief.

However, the wind hadn’t finished with me. In Saint-Simeon, I leant Leonardo against a wall of a pharmacy while I went inside. As I was leaving, one of the employees commented that my bike “est parti avec le vent.” Sure enough, the wind had pushed it along and it had fallen into some flowers!