5. Uncertainty or Boredom
Since my last post on Sunday, I have been busy.
The AirB&B I had in the 20th had expired, so I found a new place in the 14th. Still Paris, but clearly a bit more residential and outside of the hip parts of town. So I went for a walk, and I had a few thoughts.
Was I going to continue the daily routine? Eating, drinking, reading, and walking until I had spent every cent I’d saved for this trip was not proving to be a satisfying strategy. According to Voltaire’s character of Martin in Candide,
“…man was born to live either amid the convulsions of uncertainty or in the lethargies of boredom.”
While my personal philosophy is more aligned with the optimist, Pangloss, I was feeling Martin’s perspective. As privileged as it sounds, this life of leisure was leaving me wanting more. I needed to be challenged. So I made a plan.
I have wanted a bicycle while at the farm in Ecurey-en-Verdunois, but hadn’t figured out a way to get one there. After a little online shopping and google translating, I had agreed to meet a gentleman Monday morning to see his vintage 80’s Motobecane. The bike looked decent enough.It had fenders and a rear rack for panniers. The saddle height would have to be adjusted, the wheels were a bit out of true, and it came with a slow-leaking tire. But it shifted well, had dynamo-powered lights and all of its original components. We made the deal at €135 and I was rolling.
The tentative plan was to ride from Paris to Reims on Thursday and Reims to the farm on Friday - about 85 miles a day. Of course, things don’t always work out like they’re supposed to. While it may have started late, the ride on the bike path along a canal out of Paris was really pleasant. I felt confident that I was doing the right thing by making this trip. Even after getting a pinch flat 10 miles out, I was happy to pause and feel the warming sun. to listen to the birds splash in the canal, and to rest my bike in the un-mowed grass just off the trail, rather than the mud or snow that I had left at home. My routing technique was to pull up the automatically calculated routes of Garmin, Google, and the French vélo toursime website and pick the one with the least amount of climbing - probably not my best move, as google put me on a few trails that were unsuited for the 25mm tires overloaded with all my luggage. It may have been on the 4th flat of the day that I began to worry if I’d run out of patches.
Well, I did.
The valve stem had ejected itself out of one of my spares, and the original tube took up every patch I had left and still leaked. Where did I put that other spare tube? I was furious with myself for having been so careless. Even the farmer who had noticed me and came out in his car to provide additional light had run out of patience. He motioned with his hands that it was past his bedtime and retreated back to his home. According to google maps, the closest hotel was a 45 minute walk and last check in was at 22h00. I wouldn’t have time to walk the bike in to town. I had to run. I left my bike locked up just off of a wheat field with a note:
Je devais avoir plus de tubes. Je serai de retour dans la matinée.
I had to get more tubes, I will be back in the morning.
So here I am just 40 miles from where I started, waiting for the hotel breakfast, having chosen the convulsions of uncertainty over the lethargies of boredom. I’m still optimistic, though. I have much to be thankful for. Here’s a start.
I’ve done harder things on a bicycle. I know I can do this.
I’ve got a little money to help out when things get dicey.
I’ll have a good story to tell when I get there.
A bientôt,
Clayton
