Yesterday, I decided to get my keister out of the Priory and into France. I wasn’t sure what to do, so one of the guys here loaned me his bike and gave me directions on how to make my way around the lake.
I outfitted myself with a borrowed backpack, some water, some cereal bars, a delicious lunch (more on this later) and my camera. I was informed that I could bike to a nifty tunnel and turn around; a round trip of about 16 miles. Or, if I was feeling adventurous, I could make my way around the whole lake. A slightly daunting trip of 26 miles.
The day was beautiful. Sunny, but not too sunny. Breezy, but not too breezy. The seat of the borrowed bike and I did not get along so well (I’m feeling slightly bruised today), but I was surprised at how easily I was able to pedal myself forward.
The first part of the trip was a little scary… I had to bike along the side of the road with nothing between me and the cars racing around hairpin turns but their desire to not splatter me like a bug. I stayed as far to the right as I could, mindful that there was not much between me and some very pointy looking gravel but my ability to carefully bike the line, as it were.
Once I got to an actual bike bath, things started looking up. Actually, things started looking flat. Which was a nice change of pace after biking up and down hills for several miles. The bike path was beautifully straight, comfortably wide and passed along some of the most beautiful countryside that I have ever had the privilege of biking through. Rolling hills, majestic mountains and a tranquil lake. It was like some vision of heaven, except that I was actually there, pedaling furiously.
I stopped several times to hydrate, catch my breath, appreciate the scenery and snap a few pictures. Unfortunately, my photos really don’t do justice to the day or to the scenery.
It was around this time that I realized that I had packed all of the fixings for a delicious lunch… but no fork. I decided to subsist on my cereal bars and water bottle and soldier on. This would come back to haunt me later. I also decided that I was game for the whole 26 miles. I feel confident saying that this did not end up haunting me.
I eventually found my way back to civilization in the form of Annecy, the biggest town around here. Here, the bike path changed from a peaceful bike route into a busy city walkway. Even though there were giant sidewalks next to said bikepath, pedestrians decided that the bikepath looked much more desirable for walking on. It is a testament to my alleged bike skills that I managed to avoid running anybody over.
Not that I wasn’t tempted once or twice.
I made it through the city, biked along the road for a mile or so and then navigated towards the small path that was supposed to take me home.
This is where two things happened. My path disappeared and it got hilly. Very, very hilly.
I wandered around aimlessly for a bit before admitting to myself that the path really was gone and that I was going to have to get back home by biking alongside a very busy road. A very steep road. Because the Universe apparently likes to fuck with me when I’m down, it then started raining.
This could have been a miserable end to an otherwise brilliant day, but the sun came back out and I decided to make the best of a steep situation. I walked my bike for a half mile or so (just until my thighs stopped quivering like so much jello) and then got back in the saddle. Or astride the bicycle, as the case may be. I gritted my teeth and biked to the top of the hill… and then got to coast down a long stretch of steep switchbacks. To say that this was exhilarating would be like saying that sliced bread was kindof a big deal. I was flying! The air was in my face. I didn’t have to pedal at all (in fact, I spent a good portion of it braking, lest I somehow manage to send myself flying off of a cliff). And it was my own efforts that had brought me to these highest heights.
I had such a great time coasting down the hill, I spaced and missed the turn back into downtown Talloires.
Luckily, I recognized the hotel at the outskirts of town and managed to turn myself around before I ended up biking another 26 miles.
I’m hard core, but I’m not that hard core.
I’m told that the route that I took is somehow related to the Tour de France (it’s one of the individual time trials). So, I basically biked one stage. Granted, it’s one of the flatter stages. And the riders generally don’t take as long as I did. And they don’t have to stop and walk their bikes when they get too tired.
But, still, give me my moment here.
I made it back home, found myself a fork and inhaled my lunch. And several glasses of juice, and an unhealthy amount of cookies.
All in all, I would say that it was a pretty damn fantastic day.
