another trip round

The debate is whether to spend another day here in L'etang la ville or head south and spend a night south of Clermont-Ferrand and split our trip to Villelongue into two shorter moves. In the end, we decide the need to do laundry, pack and get another ride in outweigh the downside of driving 8 hrs on the autoroute.

The wind is stronger out of the west than our ride Wednesday. I'm by myself and need to get some of the rust out of the legs, so the pace is up quite a bit. The sky is more gray than white, but slivers of sun cast shadows every once in a while. I notice more this time around: the ivy is dark emerald, several bushes are blooming purple and white and a slight scent of flowers is on the breeze. All of this is terribly unusual for winter in Paris. They say this is the warmest winter in 500 years, which is incredible in two ways. One that there is yet another incredibly obvious sign of global warming and it's having a direct, observable impact on life all around us. Too often, lately, humans, especially those in the Bush administration, appear to be a bunch of blind men wandering around a huge bull elephant, only this time they don't even bother to feel.

The second amazing thing to this American is the Europeans have been keeping records for this long.

I move quickly through my familiar villes and climb into Chavenay and Feuchrolles, feeling strong. This is one of those rides when everything is clicking and I feel some assurance that I haven't lost all of my fitness.

I ride down the hill north of the ville in front of a truck, 30, 40 and peaking just short of 50. It strikes me that this is like hang gliding, descending on a bike through the forest at speed, the countersteer and lean in the turns and the easy confidence that comes from doing something hundreds of times.

Now I know the route through Aigremont and the high road through Chambourcy. The sense memories of my ride with Janet bubble up. Funny how smell, muscular effort, visuals can be tied to particular places and times and then come back so readily and clearly.

Past the school and down to the horticultural center

The climb up on the Princess Road and I see two mountain bikers, a quick 'bonjour!' and 'agauche!' and I'm by, continuing the long, grade to the crossroads in the woods. A new sign sticks in my head, La Route Forestiere Royale. Beautiful. My sister-in-laws lesson about the disappearing circumflex pops into my head. Foret (imagine the circumflex that's not on my keyboard) becomes Forestiere, with an s instead of a circumflex. A tiny insight into the great mystery that is French for an American.

Cloudy, 48 degrees, Wind WNW 12mph
19.6m, 1:16, HR146/174, 1180ft