Biking in the French Alps: Ignorance is Bliss
3 years ago, I went on an adventure I will remember forever. It was full of hope, emotion, pedaling, adventure, ignorance, and growth. Here’s context and information to help understand the story and why I did what I did: In the Fall of 2022, I left for a 7-month sejour to teach English to French high schoolers in a small, plateaued mountain town called La Mure, about 20 miles south of Grenoble. I was lonely because I was isolated, even after making friends. Living alone was just hard. When I arrived, I bought a bike within the first week. I knew I wanted to try out some bike packing. So, I did before the weather got miserable for riding.
The reason I have this story is that while I was there, I sent periodic email updates to family and friends on the email list. I am thankful that I have written down this experience in great detail, because, while I’ll never forget it, I am glad I have it in writing to recall the little details.
After re-reading this, I’ve noticed some extra things I left out that I want to insert in italics.
October 27th - 28th, 2022
“I have now been in France for over a month. There are a lot of 2-week breaks from school, and I am currently enjoying the first one. I have about a week left from today.
I spent the first two days of break feeling extremely sad and lonely. I was crying a lot, and the only things that really made me leave the house were going to the pool or grocery shopping. I craved the need to hang out with someone through shared interests. The support from others that make me feel safe and welcome was absent. I didn’t want to leave because of money, but after talking to my mom and one of my professors from Western, I knew I needed to leave La Mure somehow.
I quickly planned a 4-night bike tour and left a day later. I ran into Melanie and Greg (the people who I was renting my apartment from, a very nice family who cared about me), when I was leaving and told them what was happening. We planned to keep in touch frequently. October has been very warm and sunny, and today was no different. I left the house with a heavy backpack, a new saddle, and a heart full of nervousness. The ride started with a long descent from La Mure, and then it slowly went up and up and up to the top of Col d’Ornon. On my way there, I discovered that the mountainous valleys are so much colder than higher up. At one point, I could see my breath. The combination of the frozen mountain runoff and the lack of sun made the cold stick to the rocks that sit low in the valley. I didn’t pack any real food, only carbs. I rode past a restaurant at mile 16 and should’ve stopped because I ended up not eating real food until 2030 (8:30 pm).
At the start-ish of the Col d’Ornon with the bike I bought promptly when I arrived in La Mure! October 27th, 2022. Photo by Me.
On the way down the Col, I found that the road was closed because they are working on the road that is literally on the side of a cliff. I was freaked out because I would have basically needed to go all the way back to La Mure. I texted Melanie and she said that they open at 1500 for 15 minutes. So, I waited for an hour. In that time, a young math teacher from Grenoble came along and also waited the whole hour as well. (His name is Tanguy and he has his own epic blog that you should check out and check out his strava profile too!) We conversed in English. He was nice and explained that where I was going was hard at one point, not so bad, and then a big descent to Saint Jean de Maurienne. I should’ve taken how he felt about riding with a grain of salt because somehow, he found me on Strava after. I found that he ended up doing 120 miles with 10,000 ft of elevation gain… I am glad that he didn’t give any hints that I couldn’t do it, just very casual hardcore riding. His ease and the ease of others here, I wish I could go about difficult things like “oh, this is what it is”. He waited for me at the bottom of the descent, which I thought was very nice. I fully expected him to just go off. He showed me this path that follows along the river to Allmond, a very cute ski town that reminded me of Leavenworth. They had cable cars that went to the top of the mountain in town. From there, it was straight up the Col de Croix Fer. At one point, it took me 1 hour to go 3.5 miles. It was hard. It was hard. Finally made it to this town and then started on a sharp way down to this valley, and this is where it got freaky. I couldn’t go up anymore, and it was up up up up up for a while. I was walking my bike as fast as I was riding it. (I definitely did not eat enough, like not even close. I had drink mix, water, and candy, and a couple bars, but it was nowhere near what I needed in hindsight.) It was very cold there, and it was about 1630 (4:30pm) now, and the sun was only hitting the tips of the peaks surrounding me. It was getting dark, and I didn’t have any cell service. I started to get upset while still walking quickly. I found out this summer that when I am upset and working out, my throat starts to feel like it closes. So, I had to force myself to calm down. A motorcyclist stopped, and we talked. He told me to flag down the next car I saw, and that’s what I did. First, it was someone going in the wrong direction. I explained what was happening while starting to cry. He helped me catch the person going the right way.
This man was very nice. He was in his 60s with white hair, felt hat, and bird/animal watching gear and rosy, red cheeks. He told me that he would drop me off at the top of the col. He also explained the descent, and if I needed to get another ride, I could, and that I wasn’t the first person he’d done this for. (He also mentioned that if I needed another ride, I could just cry again, and someone would take me to Saint Jean de Maurienne) It was beautiful and cold at the top. (We took a little detour to the very top of the Col, and you could see glimpses of Mont Blanc; THAT was cool). It was just before dusk at this point, and so I put on my jacket and rode my brakes all the way down the extremely steep descent to another ski town. Then I took a left up this road that was leading me to a trail because I had walking directions on my phone. But it ended up saving me because I passed a family having some drinks and said hello, and then noticed the road was going down. I turned around and asked for directions to the family. At which point I basically burst into tears after telling myself that I wasn’t going to cry in front of a bunch of grandchildren. They said they would take me to Saint Jean without question. I am very emotional at this point and on the phone with Melanie and her friend, who speaks English, Mia, to translate with the man who is driving me to my destination. (I was speaking French with others, but at this point, I was tired and I just couldn’t completely converse about the complexity of the situation). It was full on darkness now, and I couldn’t imagine traversing down through tunnels and curves on my bike without a front light. (I know, stupid)
Now at the Airbnb and sitting in the restaurant waiting for my food (The man helped me find this place to eat. I got a burger and 2 beers with lemon-lime soda, a panache). I was safe, and it made me realize that I really was not alone. I felt very supported. It is crazy that going through all this and being far away, getting rides from kind strangers, made me feel more supported than sitting at home being afraid to leave.
Being home now, I have more confidence to go out for coffee and food, to not feel so alone. I learned a lot. One of which was that the Alps are not to mess with.
I rode 50 miles with 5,500 ft of elevation gain.”
When I woke up from my insane ride, I realized my ass was SO SORE. I also slept awful; I was too wired to have a good sleep. Safe to say, I canceled the rest of my trip, and I got a bus home. I remember feeling sad that I couldn’t do the trip I planned for. I spent the morning exploring the town I spent the night in, which was lovely. I remember watching the 2022 70.3 IM World Champs on the way back to La Mure. I started to really care about professional triathlon at that point.
I wanted to share this story because it's epic and it's fun to think of how far one can come in just a couple of years, with regard to my relationship with sport. I hoped not eating a lot on this trip would make me skinny and fit. I thought doing this sudden epic trip would make me strong. I believed that doing something adventurous would be memorable, and that it was. But some of these things have taken me till this year to really learn, and that’s ok. I realized that strength has come from consistent training, not hero days. Fitness comes from eating A LOT of the right food in and around training. And that adventure comes in all different shapes and sizes. I am not perfect, and I continue to learn how to be a better athlete every day. I hope this inspires you to keep learning and doing what’s best for you everyday.