Up North

Ryan-

Watching the hills roll by, my mind is sprinting anxiously around thinking only about miles and how long that is going to take contrasted with the 4 weeks we have left.  I had to remind myself what it was I was doing, that time frame or not, it's an adventure.

Before my realization, was the route to Bordeaux - After riding 50 miles I was staring at my third coffee of the day, waiting for a ferry in Arcachon, a call from a very good new friend, Adel, had me on my bike headed inland towards Bordeaux.  It was an impulse decision, but we had an opportunity to meet some amazing people.

I walked away, ferry stub left useless on the bar counter as Madonna's "Like a Prayer," lifted us out and started us off for another 50 miles.  We rode harder than ever, pushing each other, holding to the promise I made Remy, our host, that we would arrive before night fell. Drafting each other, in and out, I didn't think I could go farther and needed to stop, but then I forgot what I was thinking so my legs kept cranking.

We laughed, drank and enjoyed the city for a few days, with a train ticket booked and another place to stay, Bordeaux was our short and sweet home.  Every corner, side-street and plaza drove me deeper into a fantasy stemming from the history and messages the walls held.

With Keagn falling ill with a cold, I spent the last night with my friend Thomas, I met while working in Biarritz.  Weaving my bike through the center just as the sun fell, I sat with Thomas and his friends as French was being thrown around faster than I could comprehend.  Some English was spoken until they came to the conclusion that I was there to learn their language, so I was lost again.

On our bikes we rode across the river to repurposed military factories which now, was a skatepark, bar and just a good place to be.  I rode through the thick cold air staring aimlessly at the lights engulfing every stone wall and brass bell tower.

New friends made in a haze of broken French, I lost once again until I found my bed, only to be woken up by eggs, I found myself in the train station. 

Because there is always room for wine.

On our way to Quimper in the Brittany region of France, I was back to anxious state, realizing I had to calm down.  We arrived without a much of a problem, and rode around Quimper in search of a hostel only to be staring at a city map.  This is a trick we have picked up. Stare at a map for long enough and someone is bound to come over and help us out. 

An older women popped out in-between us and started calling a friend to house us for the night but we weren't so lucky.  A hotel found us, and after a good meal and rest, I was back where I don't worry, my bike.

Keagan prepping for the early morning ride out of Quimper.


Tripoto