A little known fact about me is that I’m not really a bike rider. It’s not that I can’t; I mean I learned when I was a kid. I just don’t like to. Well, the act of bike riding is fine, but it’s the cars and the other bike riders and the pedestrians and the thought of falling off and hurting myself that really just freaks me out.
But when the sun came out today for the first time in a week, I suggested to Michael that we go for a bike ride. I don’t know what came over me, but the next thing I knew we were down stairs unlocking Dave’s and Eve’s bikes. Someone had recommended a little nature reserve called Petite Camargue Alsacienne in St. Louis, France just about 7.5km away. Our plan was to bike there, enjoy a little picnic in the shade and spend the afternoon reading and writing in our journals. Sounds nice enough, but now here I was, holding the handles of the bike, pulling it off the rack when I regained rational thought; “What the heck am I doing? I can’t ride a bike on the street with cars and trucks and traffic lights all the way to France!� I looked up at Michael at that moment, “Maybe we can just walk?� I asked him. He laughed and told me to get on the bike. Shoot.
So we rode to France and I was OK. Michael was in the lead and I just followed; I was even getting the hang of the whole stopping and going thing, which is the scariest thing to do at a traffic light. When we got past the border (which is only like 1.5km away) we stopped to look at our directions. You see, we didn’t actually have a map, we just Google mapped directions and were following those. Turns out that that maybe wasn’t the brightest of ideas. The directions were clear enough and we were going along just fine for now, down a small rode, through some corn fields. I was starting to feel pretty good. The sun was warm and the breeze was just cool enough to be refreshing. I was drinking in the fresh air and postcard scenery when it all abruptly changed. Our small little country rode had suddenly merged onto a main artery with cars and trucks zooming by at crazy dangerous speeds. We were now riding on the narrow, rocky shoulder and I was screaming after Michael “We have to get off this! We have to get off this! We’re gonna die!� But there was nowhere to go. We just had to pedal harder and hope for the best. Heart pounding, hands sweating, we followed the road as it spilled into the confusing mess of a traffic circle. We circled around, dodging cars that were entering and merging, and finally found (relative) safety again when we exited onto a road that had a wide bike lane. Oh thank goodness!
It was an easy ride now with no traffic lights and few cars. I was actually able to look up a bit here and there to take in some of the scenery. We were riding through a small French town with little French houses and large gardens. Off in the distance to the east were the rounded tops of the Black Forest mountains. As we were enjoying the views, we were also looking for Rue du Canal where we were supposed to turn right to ride into the park. So we rode along, and rode and rode and rode. Michael finally stopped and turned to me, “How far is 2.6km anyway?� I had no idea! We eventually turned around and discovered that 2.6km really isn’t that far and we had ridden an unnecessarily long distance before we turned back. We finally found Rue du Canal (can’t believe we’d missed it) which led us right into the park. The park was a canal with paths running parallel on either side through a small forest. We rode west for a bit along one of the paths until we came to a little hidden passageway which led off to a trail on our left. We wandered in and discovered a lone swan floating in a pond. We continued down the path a bit further where we found a small, two-storey wooden observatory. We brushed past cobwebs and climbed the rotting staircase to the top where we looked out upon a marshy meadow surrounded by tall trees. In the distance we spied another swan and her little swanlings. It was a good place to have a picnic and relax for a little while. By now at was already 3pm and, unfortunately, it was time for us to head for home (we were attending a performance at 6). This time we decided to just follow the canal to the Rhine and then follow the Rhine back to Basel. We were done with those stupid Google directions. As we rode east towards the Rhine we past other people riding their bikes, pushing strollers, fishing, walking dogs, and everyone we past smiled and said “Bonjour!�, like a Disney movie! No rude Frenchies here.
We made it home safely, no broken bones, scrapes or cuts; just small blisters on my hands from gripping the handles so tightly. I had ridden for 5 hours today, down highways and through dangerous traffic circles and lights, and I had survived. I have to say that I’m really quite proud of myself. Phew. Well, I was rewarded quite nicely this evenly with a terrific circus performance by Julie’s kindergarten class. Have you ever been to one of those things? 5 and 6 year olds singing and dancing, walking across balance beams, doing somersaults, juggling with one ball, jumping through hoola-hoops and over broom sticks. It was one of the best things I’ve ever seen! Maybe it was even better because Michael and I had no real idea of what they were saying or doing. And Julie was hands-down the best.