The adventure that almost didn’t happen.

I’ve had this idea in the back of my mind for several years, especially around the Christmas holidays: riding my bike from Lyon to the Paris region to join my family.

This year, all the planets seemed to align. That was without counting on a work trip to India the same week, which I came back from severely sleep-deprived and sick with a bad sore throat… I landed at 1 p.m., supposedly to set off by bike the next morning for 550 km.

On Saturday, I prepared my gear without much conviction—I was completely exhausted. On Saturday evening, clearly not in a state that would realistically allow me to get on my bike, I decided to go to bed early and not set an alarm.

Sunday morning: no energy, a sore throat, zero motivation.

Around noon, it hit me that if I didn’t do it, I would regret it. So I looked for an alternative: a short train ride that could take me to kilometer 130 of my planned route. GO. I packed everything quickly and rushed to the station.

On the way, I ate and dozed off. I arrived at my destination at 3:45 p.m. and started pedaling at 4:00 p.m.

The sky was overcast, but the light was fading fast. I then realized that today was the longest night of the year—it would be dark by 5 p.m… Genius move.

The first hour went well, but as soon as night fell, light rain at first, then heavy rain, started pouring down on me. Despite my gear, I quickly ended up completely soaked.

On top of the night and the rain came the mud. My route took me onto paths that had turned into a quagmire. Totally unrideable. I turned back, mud everywhere. I then chose small country roads that more or less followed my original route. Between the night, the continuous rain, and navigating off the planned track, progress became unpleasant. Around kilometer 90, I rode through a section where cars were driving far too fast—I didn’t feel safe. I eventually managed to rejoin my original paths for a more peaceful ride, still in the rain, with my throat hurting badly.

After 120 km, I reached Nevers. Given my condition, riding through the entire night wasn’t realistic, so I decided to stop at a hotel. A hot shower and a warm duvet did me a lot of good. The night was short, alternating between feeling cold and hot—maybe a bit of fever.

Wake-up at 6 a.m. It was still raining, and it was time to get back on the bike.

My route followed the Loire: beautiful, but my legs weren’t great. Within an hour, all my clothes were soaked again.

After 100 km, I changed direction toward the Briare Canal, which would take me straight north toward Paris. I took the opportunity to change clothes and try to keep the cold at bay. Montargis, Nemours—I was making good progress.

At kilometer 200, night fell again. Given the previous night’s experience, I wasn’t motivated to follow my original route, which crossed Fontainebleau on roads where traffic didn’t feel safe. I decided to leave my planned track, continue along the canal, and reach the Seine. Longer, but on paper it seemed simpler.

Bad idea.

In Saint-Mammès, I made two navigation mistakes. Add that to the cold and my burning throat, and it really hit my morale. I eventually found my way again and even managed to cut through the forest to save a few kilometers.

I finally arrived in Melun, two hours behind schedule due to navigation errors and bushwhacking.

With more than 240 km in my legs, freezing cold, and no dry clothes left, I chose to stop the adventure there and finish by RER.

Still, I’m glad I gave it a try—but the illness, the fatigue from the week, and the cold definitely didn’t help. The route is a bit monotonous, but I imagine it must be really nice in summer, as it runs along the water almost the entire way.