The sun is about to rise on my seventh day without a shower (a personal best). Here is my morning face:
Notice how my hair is turning into a moss-like layer, becoming more and more habitable for small creatures and plant-life (and my beard is following suit). Thankfully, I'm not bothered anymore: As long as I don't touch it or see my own reflection, then out of sight is out of mind.
But given my state, I have started feeling slightly embarrassed walking into the smaller, less anonymous supermarkets. I'm just glad that my bike and attire identifies me as a (weird) cyclist, instead of a vagrant, and that my helmet hides the mushrooms growing in my hair.
Au revoir to France!
Today, I shall valiantly enter Spain, to the sound of crowds celebrating my achievement of cycling the length of France. The streets will be filled with supporters calling my name, probably throwing gifts and roses, and young women offering to take me as their husband. Or not.
I've been travelling quite slowly over the last week and have settled into cycling a bit more. My saddle is no longer painful, my knees have stopped hurting when I pedal hard and, if the ground is flat, I can now sustain a respectable pace given the weight of my bike. I slid the saddle as far back as it would go, angling it slightly upwards, and raised my handlebars about an inch, which together seem to have compensated for my bike being slightly too small.
Worryingly though, the tip of my ring-finger (on one hand) has been numb for about a week, probably due to compressed nerves in my wrist (ulnar tunnel syndrome), but given that my riding position is now more relaxed, I'm hoping it will clear up soon. I never use that finger anyway.
My body is adjusting in other ways too: I can now sit cross-legged for more than four minutes without my knees slowly dislocating, and I can comfortably crouch down on my feet, which I couldn't do in the world of chairs. I'm also getting bored of gorging on cake and pastries whenever the opportunity arises, and instead opt for fruit more often, which is good for my long-term health!
Facing fears
One of my biggest pain points on this trip (aside from the cold) has been the stress and fear that I go through as darkness approaches and I haven't found a place to camp. So, three days ago I decided to tackle this fear head on...
The first night
It was Sunday, it was raining and getting dark, and I wasn't feeling tired, so I thought: Let's see what happens if I keep cycling.
I followed a cycle path through 10km of forest in the darkness, which was a little scary. My front bike light was out of batteries, so using only my camping headlamp, I couldn't see far ahead and couldn't see the ground right in front of me (to avoid sticks and bumps). I was also scared of wild boars after this night, but all I saw were rabbits!
Here is a picture my friend drew:
Another issue was that when I did get tired, it was nearly impossible to find a good place to camp, as I couldn't see past the tree line, or whether a patch of ground was flat, flooded, or covered in thorns. But, since no one was around, I could be more daring with my camping, so I pitched my tent on the grass right beside the cycle path.
In the morning, I packed up and left before sunrise, and the whole ordeal was not too bad...
The second night
That day, I cycled through the city of Bayonne, heading for a hostel on the other side. I arrived at sundown, exhausted from city cycling, to find it closed for winter, which I hadn't even considered. All other hostels were on the other side of the city, so I headed into the countryside, running on fumes.
The mixture of rain on my glasses and full-beam headlights of oncoming cars, meant I could barely see the road, and queues of rush-hour traffic were forming behind me, itching to push past at the first opportunity.
I eventually stopped at a junction with a street lamp, and looked up through the rain to see the inviting glow of a €50-per-night guest house nestled amongst the trees. I almost gave in to temptation, but instead, told myself to see it through and at least learn a lesson.
Out of desperation, I soon settled for what I think was a long-abandoned building site, overgrown and in full view of the road beside it. I set up my tent on concrete (without pegs), which later flooded from heavy rain as I lay inside.
In my whole life, I have never felt such appreciation for simply having a room to sleep in, a shower, and a job to pay for these things. It made me imagine being homeless: At least I had the luxuries of a credit card to buy food, a good tent and a warm sleeping bag.
So, the lesson I learned was to find a place to sleep before it gets dark!
The next day, as if in apology, I found a lovely place to camp with a view of the Pyrenees. And the sun began shining right on cue:
Here is the sunrise over my camp the next morning:
And here is my current location:
Bring on Spain!
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