How to take the plunge and leave on a long-distance bike trip?
I realised it was harder than I’d thought when I went several months without a long ride. Especially as I’d just bought a flat in Bordeaux, which I wanted to decorate.
Organising a 700 km cycle tour in Spain meant taking a break from my daily routine. Find out why I set off and discover the first stage of my preparations.
A well-considered choice
I’d booked a week’s holiday at the end of April and still hadn’t decided what to do. I was torn between staying in Bordeaux and cycling the Montañas Vacias, a renowned cycling route.
I discovered this route 4 years ago in my Lonely Planet guide Epic bike rides of Europe. It forms a loop starting from Teruel and crosses the “empty mountains”. I’d been drawn to it by the beauty of the landscapes it offered and the region’s low population density. Besides, spending a few days in Spain appealed to me, as I’d be immersing myself in a foreign culture that I appreciate.
However, I wasn’t sure I could tackle a route designed for experienced cyclists, as I was then a novice at cycle touring. This adventure, requiring time and good physical fitness, stayed in the back of my mind. I idealised the Montañas Vacias and told myself that one day, I would discover them.
3 months before the beginning of my holiday, I was still undecided. Should I save money and furnish my flat? Or treat myself and do something good for my body and mind?
Although travelling always gives me so much, I need a bit of motivation to take the plunge.
One evening, an acquaintance said to me: “I think it’s better to go travelling while you can. You can always decorate the flat later.” It’s decided: I’ll spend my holidays in the Montañas Vacias. I felt I’d made the right choice.
A familiar route
I had never ridden such a long trip. Well, the year before, I did a 600-km trip through Germany and Austria. The adventure seemed well within my reach, but I was daunted by the climbs and expected my knees to ache.
3 weeks before setting off, I decided to go on day trips to get my body used to prolonged efforts. By doing this, I wanted to avoid knee pain during my journey. It usually flares up when I cover too many kilometres without being used to it.
The Bordeaux-Lacanau cycle route seemed the obvious choice as I’d cycled it several times before. After about four months without cycling long distances, I was curious to see how I’d feel. I had to push myself to set off on this ride, but I knew it would do me good.
I set off at 8.45 am on a Sunday from the centre of Bordeaux. From the very first few metres on my touring bike, I appreciate how comfortable it is compared to my city bike. It moves quickly and allows me to sit upright.
There’s little traffic on this road leading to the beach, partly because the weather is cloudy. I reach the cycle path from Bordeaux to Lacanau after an hour. I admire the vegetation along the edge of the path. There are small, deep-green ferns and gorse bushes displaying beautiful yellow flowers. A faint scent of the forest wafts through the air. The area is damp as it rained yesterday.
What’s more, I can feel the cold air on my hands and feet. To warm up, I wiggle my toes and rub my gloved hands together. I’m delighted to arrive in Salaunes, where I stop to eat a few walnuts.
I notice that, since setting off, as I’m not looking at my phone and am not distracted by tasks to do, thoughts about my future come to mind. More specifically, about a way of life that appeals to me: living abroad.
However, I don’t want to pay attention to these thoughts. I let them drift away so I can focus on my body and my surroundings. I cycle to relax and give my brain a rest, not to brood, but the act of pedalling makes me realise things and take a step back.
I meet up with my father in Sainte-Hélène. He has driven to this town, situated halfway between Bordeaux and the sea, bringing his bike in the car.
On a straight stretch of road, he recognises a bird’s song and invites me to listen carefully to identify it: “It’s a common chiffchaff.” I feel as though I’ve heard that sound before, but I didn’t know what species it was. My father pulls out his mobile to check, using a bird sound recognition app, that it is indeed this species. No internet connection.
The songs of various birds drift out from the pines, though we can’t see the little creatures. Suddenly, I hear: “A buzzard!” My father points to a bird perched on a branch above us. I hadn’t realised this bird of prey was so small.
Next, we reach the area where many charred trees once stood. Not many remain. Further on, along the long straight stretch crossing a treeless area, I notice numerous gorse bushes whose beautiful yellow flowers brighten up the landscape.
An hour and a half after Sainte-Hélène, we arrive in Lacanau-Océan. Seeing the sand encroaching on the track and the cyclists, I feel the intensity of the physical effort give way to the light-hearted atmosphere of a seaside resort. I’m delighted to arrive.
My father points out some acacia trees by the side of the track. We get off our bikes again to smell the white flowers. Their delicious scent transports me back to my childhood, and I can picture my grandmother serving acacia flower fritters. I wouldn’t have remembered it if my father hadn’t mentioned it.
We eat our snack on a bench by the seafront. It’s not crowded, as the weather isn’t great in Bordeaux. Here, the sun manages to break through the clouds. There are no surfers in sight in the powerful, deafening swells. Yet usually there are a few experienced surfers in the water even when the waves are big.
Doubts start to creep in
After eating and having a coffee, we set off again. It’s around 1.30 pm; I’ll arrive in Bordeaux at 5 pm, which will give me time to tidy up at home, cook, finish my work to-do list and enjoy my evening.
I don’t feel particularly tired, even though my heart rate is picking up. However, I’m starting to feel pain in my right thigh, just above the knee. It seems like I’m putting too much strain on my knee. The sensation is similar to what I felt during my trip along the Romantic Road.
As a result, I force myself to straighten my leg, pushing so that my heel is as low as possible. What’s more, with every pedal stroke, I try to make sure my knee moves as far back as possible.
Feeling pain after about 100 km on flat terrain doesn’t bode well for the journey in Spain. I’ll have to pack my knee brace in my panniers.
We’ve passed the spot where the acacia trees were, though I’d have liked to pick some flowers to flavour a dish. Another chance to enjoy the flora presents itself just after we’ve passed Lacanau Lake. I see plants with leaves resembling sage, lined up along the cycle path.
I tell myself that taking the time to enjoy the surroundings during a bike ride is worthwhile. Yet, on my cycle-touring adventures, I ride whilst focusing on the day’s destination. I could take more time to observe the landscape and stop to admire the wildlife, flora and cultural heritage of the region I’m visiting.
The scent wafting from the leaf confirms that it’s sage. It has lemony notes. I pick a few leaves, which will make a nice addition to a sauce. Then we come to the long straight stretches between Saumos and Sainte-Hélène. A strong wind is blowing in our faces. I’m sweating more as I push hard to keep moving forward.
I position myself behind my father, close to him, to protect myself from the wind. This position allows me to pick up speed whilst exerting the same effort. Then I overtake my father to shield him in turn. This method is very effective.
From Sainte-Hélène, I continue the journey on my own. The pain in my right knee persists. I must have got used to sitting in the wrong position. In other words, when I’m riding my city bike, I don’t straighten my leg enough. When my legs are straight and my heel is close to the ground, the pain subsides. However, it takes effort and concentration to do this.
In Saint-Médard, where the houses are closer together, I spot white flowers on small plants. I stop and smell them. They don’t have the scent of acacias.
Further on, a shrub stands by the fence of a house. Its white flowers are larger and sit higher up. This time, there’s no doubt about it: these are the ones I’m looking for. What a scent! I slip a few into the pocket of my jumper.
At around 5 pm, after what feels like an endless journey through the town, I’m home. I feel tired, but also relaxed, fit and proud of what I’ve achieved. It puts me in the right frame of mind to tackle the housework.
This ride got my body back into gear and made me realise that my knee was a bit dodgy. It also reminded me just how beneficial cycle touring is for mental health.
