Happy To Be Alive !

Written October 10, 2012

“Would you mind taking a picture of me?” My last words to my roommate, Sonia, before embarking on a disastrous, 50 km journey from downtown Saumur to my home in Thouars on my new bicycle. After a beer and a couple glasses of wine, few worries crossed my mind as to what may lie ahead. I would make the trek by following on a beautiful, clearly marked path along the Thouet River, which would take me straight home. There was no need for me to carry a cell phone, which would have been too much of a hassle to carry with no pockets. Neither would it have been logical for me to carry any money, form of identity, food, drink, etc. It would just be me, my bike, my keys, and a vaguely precise map of the route.

The journey began as smooth as butter, or shall I say goat cheese. I even a few “scenic routes” to explore a little more of the area, not the least bit worried that it was already 4:30 PM and the lady at the wine store had mentioned something about a 2 and a half hour ride. I thought of how easy the journey would be and how I would probably make it again some day to upgrade my bike, as I found the seat entirely uncomfortable. When the route charted off the river, I continued in the same direction, assuming a one size fits all strategy. Continuing onto a farm trail, I kept a steady pace until I began to slow and eventually stop in what had turned into a sea of mud or, as I later realized, cow poop. I chose the easiest of natural remedies by brushing off my bike with my hands, wiping it on my shirt, and retreating to find a new path.

Following a small country road, in the same general direction, I continued the journey. Two cars drove by over the next twenty minutes, but I refused to ask where I was to admit that I was lost. Finally, I discovered a nice bike path upon which to continue. It appeared to be along the same river as before, in the same direction as before, no problem. I continued along what turned out to be a grassy, poorly bikeable terrain, amidst nothing but trees, fish, birds, and an occasional toad that reached the size of my forearm. Then came my greatest challenge yet: apparently a tornado had swiped through the area, knocking down trees in its path, and thus on my path. I casually carried my bike over 2 trees before approaching the third tree, which literally stretched across the entire river to the nearest barbed wire fence. With no easy way around, up or down, I had no choice but to backtrack the first two trees and return to my former, small country road path.

At this point, I was only slightly worried about nightfall. As I had already been biking for quite some time, I had to be close. But I was awfully thirsty. So I decided that I would stop the next car to ask for directions and a glass of water. No cars drove by for the next....half hour or so. Then I decided it was time to stop at the next house I see: no houses in sight for what seemed like another half hour. In my daze, I knocked on a barn door with two trucks parked outside: no luck.

Finally, I came to a highway intersection and saw an illuminated sign for a restaurant. I dropped in, immediately apologized for smelling like cow turd and asked for a glass of water and a bit of information on where I was. The waitress was kind to inform me that Thouars was just another 20 km away, but as night was approaching, she bid me good luck and told me to be careful. So with legs fully cramped and butt fully numbed, I raced the sunset to arrive home as soon as possible. 20 minutes passed by: signs indicate that I’m headed back to Saumur, my journey’s origin and nothing is posted for Thouars. Once I reached the next village, night had fully arrived and the dangers of continuing on a two-lane country highway were evident. At this point, I was again thirsty and now quite hungry as well. So I stopped at the first roundabout, ready to hault the next car and demand some attention.

In the distance, I could see the faint image of another biker coming towards me, so I made my way towards him to confirm my directions and hopefully find out where I could get another glass of water and some bread. The man politely listened to my story, informed me that he has just taken his bike out for a short ride to toss his recycling and that I could follow him. By the time we reached his house and I get off my bike, I can hardly walk. He asks me how I would fancy a lemonade and ham sandwich, and I assure him that any form of nutrition will suffice. After a bit more talking, he tells me that Thouars is still another 20 km away. I’m slightly over half way between Saumur and Thouars and it’s completely dark at this point. Thankfully, he is well aware of the danger I would have to face and the likelihood of me spending the night in the street and offers me a ride home, which I can’t refuse.

I’m glad to back home after what turned out to be a 4 and a half hour journey. Lessons learned that carrying a cell phone and money are essential. It’s not easy to find an excuse for hitchhiking when you have a bike, but under extreme circumstances, the French are willing to help. Hopefully my legs will recover quickly, as I will be standing up through two long days of classes ahead. Whatever the case, I’ll glad accept a little leg soreness and a dirty bike for the chance to sleep in my own bed tonight, well nourished.