I spent the summer of 2017 working on a campsite/caravan park in southern France. Because of the 6-day shift pattern I hadn't really been able to leave the bubble of the park so by the second month I was going a bit crazy. I persuaded my boss to give me two consecutive days off, spontaneously borrowed a road bike and a helmet after asking around, packed a bag (a 40L backpack - that's all I had with me!) and set my sights on cycling to the Spanish side of the Pyrenees, 100 miles away. I hadn't ever ridden that far, but – in hindsight maybe recklessly 👀 – I thought it would be fine. All I took with me was some food, water, another set of cycling kit, some clothes for the evening and my chunky SLR camera. I didn't have cycling shoes or cleats - those were back home in the UK. I looked at Google Maps and booked myself a night in a hostel on booking.com that was just on the French side of the France/Spain border. I didn't have any route plotting apps or even a Garmin back then, so I wrote myself some instructions in the form of road numbers and "TL at pub" or "3rd exit at RB". I would have like a proper paper map, but I couldn't get hold of one!
The first 70 miles were quite flat and easy-going along the coast, and I remember feeling totally free and loving life! I'd not ridden that kind of distance alone but I must have been wildly confident. I think I just didn't worry about anything because either (a) I wasn't thinking clearly in the excitement of leaving or (b) because I had an attitude of no point worrying until you've got a problem to deal with. Anyway, I got to the beautiful mountains with only a few mishaps; lack of water being the main problem. I remember having to knock on a farmer's door and ask for a top up because the village water fountains were great but few and far between, and it was hot in the middle of August!
I got to the hostel and no-one could quite believe I'd cycled 100 miles there solo. I had a very nice evening - I love the people you get to meet in these kinds of places!
The next morning, I got up super early and rode the last couple of miles up the mountain pass until I got to a sign that said "Welcome to Spain". Mission accomplished! I rolled back down to the hostel for breakfast before riding the hundred miles back. That was a lot harder than I'd anticipated, despite it being mostly downhill. I had some dramas including a very dumb injury that left me with a scar I still have: I set up a self-timer on the camera and in running into the shot I managed to go full pelt into a barbed wire fence!! In a sort of Bear Grylls style solution I ate my sandwich, covered the bleeding wound with the tin foil and tied it with my hair bands. I hadn't thought about taking a first aid kit! I got caught in a thunderstorm towards the end, and at that point realised me with 15km to go that I'd set out with no pump or puncture kit or anything to sort any mechanicals. Whoops. Anyway, I got back in just about one piece having had the best time on my first big solo trip, and definitely found me the taste for adventure! Safe to say every trip I've done after that has been a bit more thought out!
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