When I began pedaling this morning, nothing hinted at trouble. I had around 85 km to cover — peanuts compared to several of the previous days. The first town on my route was Mâcon, the heart of the Mâconnais wine region, known for its famous whites like Mâcon-Villages and Pouilly-Fuissé. Its most celebrated son is Alphonse de Lamartine, Romantic poet and statesman. Strangely enough, Mâcon didn’t impress me as much as Tournus, the smaller town I stayed in yesterday.
After Mâcon, the cycling path turned largely unpaved, but it didn’t bother me — it was hard-packed and easy to ride on. The closer I got to my planned destination, the more I thought the route was too short for a full day’s ride. So I decided to push on to the next village with a campsite — the last one before Lyon. But that only got me a little further.
And that’s when the trouble began.
Me being me, I chose to go all the way to Lyon instead, figuring I’d rather have a full day there than just a few hours tomorrow morning before catching my train home.
So I picked up the pace — not that I’d been slacking before — and started pedaling full steam ahead. Despite the breaks I took along the way, I still managed to average nearly 20 km/h. My legs were on fire, but as the Russian saying goes (borrowed into English): “A willing horse needs no spur.”
By 2 p.m., I reached the confluence of the Saône and Rhône — the final point of this trip. Ta-da! I was thoroughly exhausted but satisfied. If not for my stubbornness I would be picking up my nose in the middle of nowhere.
Though I’d hoped to explore Lyon a bit, the heat was unbearable. I went straight to my hostel in the Fourvière neighborhood, perched high above the city. The view from my window could rival that of a five-star hotel.
After I cleaned myself up, I decided Grengo would have to wait for a proper wash back home even though after 50 km of dirt roads, he looked like he’d been through a sandstorm.
Before heading out, I booked my train tickets — barely managing to snag the last seat from Paris to Brive. I don’t know what happened, but the rest of the Sunday trains were completely sold out. It would’ve been ironic to end up stuck in Lyon or Paris after working so hard to get here early.
The reward for all that effort didn’t take long to arrive — in the form of excellent ice cream… followed by another one. Just what the doctor ordered during a heatwave.
I wrapped up the day at a bouchon lyonnais, restaurant that serves traditional Lyonnaise fare. I guess that made up for yesterday.
Later, I wandered through the slightly cooler streets of Lyon. I’ve been here before, but only have vague memories. It’s definitely a place I want to return to — preferably with Julie.
And that’s all, folks. Another trip in the books. Time to recover.
Today in numbers:
120 km – distance cycled
19 — Michelin-starred restaurants in Lyon proper
87 — flavors of ice cream at Terre Adélice, I tried two – both excellent