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.
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.