It’s up for breakfast at 8:00 a.m. and pack your lunch, then be ready on shore by 9:00 a.m. we are off for a 45 km ride. Hum. What does that mean? ....she thinks.
This is my position for most of the day...meaning last in the line of bike riders. That’s Elaine in back of me...because she’s the “Sweep” for today...making sure no one is left behind...even me!
The coffee stop was great.
Then there’s a little hiccup in the ride, as three of us at the end of the line...lose sight of the other riders and now to figure out which way to go...around the corner and up a steep hill? Or straight ahead on a flat road?
We study the map for 10 minutes. I burst out laughing at how silly this is. A car pulls down the hill and a woman shouts out, “Are you lost? Many bikes up this hill!” Ok then. And walk up it I do as there is no getting going UP hill.
Once we are reunited, we are off on the roads for the Bee Farm and honey tasting event.
The bee farmer gives us a great tour and introduces us to his bees.
The Queen is marked with a red dot. Goodness. How?
Then the honey comb room where they extract the honey.
There are three kinds of honey, all cultivated by the bees from different flowers and different times of year. Who knew?
I like the one mixed with cheese on little pieces of baguette bread. Cider too!
I buy little canbdles made of bee's wax....oh, a two tiny soaps.
We ride through little villages, up hill and down, over country roads, down trails, over packed gravel and not packed gravel, through a sand patch, onto smooth patch, back onto rocky road, over cobblestones, around gates, over speed bumps, past barriers (barely), up, up, up Hills, down a few too, in 88 degree heat by afternoon. My legs are screaming at me....to, STOP this madness....but, I can’t because the group is going on and there is only one way back to the barge...which is forward. At the end of the line. Gee whiz.
Where is everyone? Most of the small French towns we ride through seem abandoned...maybe people work in Paris?
Somehow, by 4:30, 45km have passed under my tires. I am totally exhausted. My legs are cramping. My spirit is dampened and tomorrow seems impossible. What was I thinking?
A hot shower helps. A fabulous dinner helps. Oh, and the incredible dessert helps. But I doubt my ability to do 43km...
A group follows our bike guide after dinner for a historical walk in Montargis. I turn back because my legs tell me to do so. Now. Owww! Yet, I hate to miss out on anything.
I end the day writing in my journal. “This was a very, very hard day. I could ride, yes, but totally done by noon, although the ride was far from done. Hills. HILLS. Many. What was I thinking? And very hot from noon on...88degrees. Sunny. There is pressure for me to switch to an electric assist bike. Oh my. I have never even tried one. I learn new things in small increments...not a jump on and just go person. Ended this day in tears. So tired and discouraged.”
I consider giving up and riding the barge every day. A difficult night of sleep as leg cramps keep waking me up.
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