Getting out of Lyon was fairly easy. The Maps.me app on my inexpensive waterproof phone worked flawlessly. It would always make things easier if I could actually follow it. It was early Saturday morning, and the traffic was very calm. This was the beginning of the holiday season for Europeans. Kids were out of school, and families would soon be packing up to take their annual two- or three-week holiday. The skies were a beautiful light blue as the sun rose higher in the sky, promising another extremely sweltering day.
Our ride today would not take long. We were heading to an area in a valley between two mountain ridges, just south of Chambéry. We decided to test ourselves and went up a pass to see what it felt like. Since my hip replacement and accident, my right leg has not been good. I just don’t think I have what I need for those sharp hairpin turns right now.
Making it up and over the mountain went well, but if I really needed my leg for support, I’m just not sure what would happen. I could feel Melanie tensing around the sharp uphill turns. She was doing a good job being my spotter. I just didn’t need to face an oncoming bus or tractor halfway through a turn.
Fuck. It is so disconcerting.
We have always loved riding the passes on these tiny roads in the Alps. But now there are these thoughts of another fall. It just isn’t fun right now.
Finally finding a campground, Campground Le Lac Saint-Clair, we checked in and found our campsite. It was so hot—almost 100°F (39°C). The chairs were the first things off the bike. Then we stripped off our gear and sat.
We were camping under a beautiful tree, completely covered in large green leaves. Our setup could wait.
The campground had an outdoor bar and food area serving drinks and, we heard, the best pizza you could find. We took a walk into the nearby village to the market to find some food and refreshments for the next couple of days. We would be staying two nights and doing a local loop on Sunday.
The hosts were the new owners of the campground. It was a family affair, with their two kids helping with chores around the campground and working in the food truck.
The beer was so cold and so refreshing. The meat pizza was delicious, just as advertised. The night cooled off enough to sleep with the tent flaps tied up. Just don’t look in.
The next morning, we were up early. The day was going to be hot again. We packed our swimsuits and towels and were going to head up to a big lake we had visited before.
I made a couple of cups of coffee, and we had a couple of chocolate croissants we had purchased at the market. Not quite French bakery style, but edible.
There were two routes to the lake: around and over. Over meant another mountain with many switchbacks. The going was slow, and the heat was building.
Stopping at an intersection for a discussion, we decided the smart route would be the around route. Done. A right-hand turn brought us back to the main road.
As we got close to the lake and the town of Annecy, we realized we had made a huge miscalculation. Everyone in the area had the same idea. Beat the heat with a day at the lake and beach.
Bumper-to-bumper traffic.
We headed all the way down the hill through the town and toward the north side of the lake. There was no airflow, and it was hot. There wasn’t even room to filter. Melanie did her best to keep my sanity intact.
After an hour, we had passed through the busiest sections. There wasn’t any parking. But we were ATGATT. We didn’t want to carry all our gear and helmets, so we pressed on.
Finally, we came upon a restaurant on the river. There was a swimming area and parking for the bike. The waitress took us to a table in the direct sun.
I looked at her and just shook my head.
“No. Nein. Hayır. Non!”
Luckily, “umbrella” was what came out of my mouth next as I pointed to a table in the shade.
Swimming was pretty much out of the question by this time. It would have been nearly impossible to find a spot on the parched ground. The water was full of people. Not my deal.
A couple of drinks later, we loaded back onto the bike for the slow, hot slog back to the campsite.
Not too much was said for about 15 minutes. The intercoms were eerily silent.
Then, almost in unison, we said, “What are we doing?”
We have explored this area many times in the past. Some of the roads even seemed familiar. If we’re not having fun, let’s save the money and head back to the US. This would even a bad idea, but that will be for a later post. We need to make some changes.
We have many trip ideas coming up for the next year.
When we got back to the campsite, there was a band setting up to play music that night.
Fantastic!
All the members spoke French, but we were told they were playing classic American rock. This should be interesting and comical at least—and fun at best.
We cooked up some supper in the shade of the common area and opened a bottle of French red wine.
At €2, how good could it be?
I was wrong.
It was great!
For a Sunday night, the crowds started gathering about an hour before they were scheduled to start. We hauled our chairs down to the bar and found a plot of ground. I went up to the bar and ordered a beer for me and a Limoncello for Melanie.
The band started soon after, and they were as good as could be expected.
Everyone seemed to get a kick out of the two Americans singing along. Remember, we’re in France, where there seems to be little love for their northern neighbors.
At the end of the night, the lead singer asked where we were from.
“Sweet Home Alabama” was the next thing everyone heard.
That’s enough for now.
Until next time…
Cheers,
2WANDRRs
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