Fargo and Away

When Thursday morning arrived, the weather report had not improved that much. It was cloudy and cool, and the forecast was for increasing rain during the day. We got our bikes ready, put on extra layers, and prepared to set off for Lourdes, where we had begun our ride and where it would end.

It was about this moment when things started to go a little sideways. We didn’t know it at the time, but while we were getting ready, someone had walked off with the keys to one of the vans. Stephane and Muriel were focused on getting us on the road, so didn’t notice the missing keys right away.

We pedaled off into the mist with the expectation that we would meet one van for a water refill and snack before the start of the Col de Bereyde, our final major climb of the week. We would then have lunch at the top of the col, about an hour later.

About halfway to our first rendezvous point we receive a text from Muriel asking if anyone had the van keys on them. No one did. With Muriel on speaker phone, the group peppered suggestions of where to look — under the bags, on the floor, in the bike locker room, on the ground where the van was parked, in the other van. Of course, Muriel had already looked in all those places. We decided that the group should keep riding and Stephane would meet us one way or another. So, we kept going.

Not long after that we received a second text from Muriel informing us that the keys had been found. Mystery solved. It was the housekeeper, with the key, in the bike locker room. She had taken it when she cleaned the area but neglected to inform the front desk that she had it.

With Muriel and Stephane now on the road, the only question was whether they’d meet us in time. A road closure on the route had forced us to double back. We meandered through cow country as we tried to rejoin the route past the closure. There were cows.

We finally found our way back to the route, and before we knew it, we had reached the bottom of the Col de Beyrede. There was no sign of either van. It was more than misting (not quite raining) by then. We didn’t want to stop and get cold, so we started up the climb.

At some point, a text informed us that a van was waiting halfway up the climb, so we pushed on. The rain started to get a bit more rainy.

Whelp, turns out that the van was still behind us, and so we had missed our window to refill water and grab a snack. We reached the top of the col, which was completely covered in cloud. We could make out some shadows in the distance and thought that maybe we had finally found the van. As we drew closer, we could only see cows. Cows in every direction: standing, laying down, and mostly staying completely still. At first, they didn’t notice us.

Ken and I hopped off the bikes and slowly walked through the herd. Now all they cow eyes were on us. Though they were not bulls, they still had some horns that looked like they could do some damage. I don’t know about Ken, but I was questioning whether walking through the herd was a good idea.

The cows held their ground. We took the requisite photos in front of the Col de Beyrede sign.

As I shot some video of our walk through the cows, the van finally showed up behind us.

During the few minutes that we had spent walking through the herd, we started to get quite cold, so we decided that we would forego lunch at the summit and instead meet up after the descent. We filled the water bottles and got back on the bikes.

I set off and at first everything seemed to be fine, with a nice sweeping hillside descent wrapping through a farm. Then, the tarmac disappeared, replaced with gravel. Bowl-sized potholes mined the road. Drainage channels crossed the path, threatening to trap tires as I rode over them. The road became even steeper and choppier. Surely, I had made a wrong turn. I stopped and tried to message the group back up the hill but had no cell service. I wasn’t about to ride back up that mess, so I did the next best thing and kept going down.

Thankfully, I reached paved road again and came out at a recognizable main road that I knew was not far from Lourdes.

By now, however, I was shivering cold from the rain, and still close to two hours from the hotel. No one else had reached the main road yet, so I didn’t want to continue on alone. Spotting a small restaurant up the road, I pulled in and ordered a double espresso, which I sipped as I warmed up and watched the road for the rest of the group. In ones and twos, they all spotted the bikes outside and pulled in for a coffee. Both vans pulled in.

We discussed what to do next. Should we all hop in the van and ride the rest of the way to Lourdes in warmth? Should we just keep riding and hope it dries out and we can warm up? Ultimately, everyone decided what was best for them and several folks packed their bike onto the van while the others put on multiple dry layers to continue the ride. I was completely surprised to find myself getting back on the bike. It was cold and wet, we hadn’t eaten lunch, and we had two more hours of riding. Cycling in those conditions by choice is not something I would ordinarily choose to do.

But it was the last cycling day in France and I wasn’t ready to be off the bike. And, most importantly, a bunch of my friends also didn’t want to be off the bike yet. So we rode.

And it was kinda fun. The extra layers kept me warm, even though I was pretty well soaked. We had some laughs, such as when we passed this character on the road:

With a soggy hour of riding remaining, we entered Gerde, France and happened by Le Géant du Tourmalet, a steel cycling statue that honors Octave Lapize, the first rider to win the Col du Tourmalet stage when it was introduced during the 1910 Tour de France. The road was unpaved and covered with snow that first year on the Col du Tourmalet! Lapize had to push his bike through the snow and mud. According to legend, Lapize yelled “Vous êtes des assassins!” at race organizers as he crested the col.

We stopped, took a group selfie, and went into the bike shop next to the statue, where we found more cycling gear to purchase, as well as some good coffee and a snack or two. Surprisingly, there were few quality bike shops in the Pyrenees, and we had all been on the lookout for them. The vans pulled in while we were in the shop and everyone found something to spend some money on. Shopping done, a bunch of us again passed on the offer to ride the last leg to the hotel in the comfort of the van. We bundled up and hopped on our bikes for the last hour of riding.

As we rode back into Lourdes, I recall seeing a Burger King billboard and thinking to myself, “That is the most delicious looking burger I’ve ever seen,” which is odd given that I had been at a BK in many years. I was a bit hungry. But, also happy. We didn’t stop at BK. We finally arrived at the hotel and made our way to the bike garage for a final group selfie. The smiles on our faces say it all.

The vans arrived shortly afterwards and we focused on getting some calories back into our tired bodies. Everything was on the table. Chips, cheese, ham, bread, fruit, Gummi Llamas, beer.

Exhausted, we collected our wet gear, removed whatever bike accessories we had attached to our rentals, checked into the hotel, cleaned up, and returned to the lobby for celebratory beers before dinner.

According to my Garmin, I had ridden 349 miles and 43,238 feet of climbing over seven rides. It was a good week with a great group of friends. Some of us are already thinking about where we will go next year.