June 9, Aups/Sillans/Cotignac/Aups.

Got out on my first ride of the trip. When it became clear, early in the Spring, that Sacha and I were actually going to do this, one of the first things I did was look at a map and start looking for the dotted, wiggly lines going from small town to village to commune. I learned quickly that most of these are called chémins: Chémin de Taurenne, Chémin Rural, Chémin des Anciennes Fontaines, etc. I got excited. In my head, I imagined dusty gravel paths, old men with baguettes on bicycles, and donkeys. I know better than to believe my own imagination, but still, I was surprised to realize that a chémin can be, well, pretty much anything, actually. Sure, narrow, mostly unpaved roads as I’d dreamed. But also a chonky dirt path leading straight uphill that would like to eat my bicycle tires. A road that ends at a wall, where someone left a chair as a clue to stand and peer over to find the connecting chémin. A path that becomes a trail that becomes an exercise in bushwacking. A path through tall grass that is nothing but the indication that a car drove through here some time in the recent past.
I love adventure, and for sure, this ride was my kind of ride, but after five days of travel and wine and no bike riding, it was maybe a bit much, and with the route I’d mapped being 35 miles long, it was ambitious. I imagined three hours, and it became more than five.

But don’t feel sorry for me. Really, don’t.