Today’s ride: Vonnas to Annecy, 165km, 1717m elevation
Total so far: 717km, 4354m
Last night was a disaster. For the first time we had got to camp at a reasonable time, sorted out some dinner and a couple of beers, seared a lovely piece of steak over the Trangia and got some washing done only for the heavens to open in a brief heavy shower that turned into a thunderstorm. Anticipating a sunny evening, we’d got everything out to sort and organise and instead we found ourselves huddled outside the toilet block with all of our gear soaking wet.
It’s much easier to note the signs of physical decline than mental. Your legs ache, your joints hurt, your back starts to twinge and your body tells you that you need to stop at the next café. It’s a lot harder for your brain to communicate those same messages to you. We trained hard before the trip to make sure our legs were in condition, that we’ve lost weight and our gear worked as expected, but it’s very difficult to train for the reality of being miles away from home with everything going wrong. On a bike ride, you may be in the company of others but you still spend a lot of time alone while this can give you time to think and process. It can also give you time to anxiously turn things over and over in your mind. Time to think but also time to fret.
At home, if I’m feeling stressed, my wife often tells me to get out on the bike, so part of the solution was right in front of me. I recorded my piece for the podcast first thing in the morning and even this seem to be a therapeutic act. I started to explain why I was feeling so down and essentially it came down to “all our stuff is wet”. I started to talk about the difficult day we had ahead, and halfway through explaining this I thought “what the hell? This is what we came for!” The challenge we had set ourselves wasn’t a negative, it was our raison d’être! It’s true folks – talking things through, even to a microphone, really helps.
I had spoken on one of the previous days about our need to take control back, that we couldn’t let circumstances continue to dictate to us. It was our trip and we controlled our destiny. I felt that very strongly as we started our ride.
Breakfast was on the road, a monster of a ham sandwich and coffee by the roadside in a small village near Vonnas, and it was a fast and straightforward start through a mixture of woodland and lakes and etangs. My mood quickly improved as we continued into the province of Ain, where we took on coffee and juice at the village of Saint-Jean-le-Vieux, at one of those small village cafes that doesn’t look like much from the outside but is filled with chat and laughter. I walked in on someone using the toilet after twice completely missing the second half of the sentence les toilettes sont à gauche, mais il y a queulqu’un là-dedans, prompting a chorus of laughter at my terrible comprehension. We quickly made friends and half the cafe came out to look at the old bikes that the Englishmen were riding to Nice. I’m not sure they rated our chances.
Saint-Jean-le-Vieux is in a quiet but ideal location, on the edge of the flood plain of the river Ain but also at one of the outflows for one of the gorges from the neighbouring foothills of the Jura mountains. I imagine it’s perfect agricultural land and thanks to the alluvial deposits from the gorge it has a pleasing raised location overlooking the valley. The village is overlooked by the nearby hills and a small château. I rather liked it there.
We couldn’t hang around for too long though because there was climbing to do. This was the first big climb of the trip, the Col de la Lèbe at 914m. It was a good climb, steep in places but never too taxing, and it felt good to get over the top where we were delighted to get our first glimpse of the Alps. An hour later we were in Hauteville-Lompnes enjoying a good cheese from Bourg-en-Bresse and wondering that we were actually in a ski resort. But it was getting on for 3pm already, and we were only halfway there. On the ascent, we took the decision to avoid the last climb of the day and instead take the longer but flatter route through the Val de Fier to the north, a decision that we thought would reduce the climbing. It’s hard to know if that was the right decision.
The Fier route certainly wasn’t flat and there was a climb up to the gorge, which is a line of weakness in the final set of hills before Annecy. It was very beautiful but also quite busy at times with cars and the narrowness of the route caused some overtaking anxiety. We stopped for a rest and a drink as it was getting late, and then started to worry about campsites. My first two choices turned out to be closed, and others seemed to be full. Moreover, it was taking forever to get to Annecy; there were ever more climbs that didn’t seem to be exist on maps and profiles but here we were puffing up them late in the day. At 8pm, we stopped at a Spar on the edge of Annecy to pick up dinner but still didn’t get to the waterfront until 9pm, and after some quick snaps we were moving again down the eastern lakeside, trying to find a site that was open. None seemed to be and they all have their gates firmly barred to late arrivals. We were about to wild camp when Graeme found one more possibility off the main route; a camping municipal that by some miracle still had its pedestrian gate open. We sneaked in and set up, and finally at 10.30pm started to cook our sausages.
We were exhausted but safe and at last were able to enjoy some dinner and wine from my water bag. It had been such a long day with so many physical challenges to overcome, but we had done it and we were both in a much happier mental state. At last, we were in the Alps.
