Choosing the Long Way: A Cycling Adventure in the French Alps

Lessons Learned from cycling 52 miles / 84 kilometers in the French Alps

A fierce wind blew against my face as I bolted down the side of the mountain. The quick clicking sound of the back chain sounded as my freewheel spun without any need to pedal. To my left, I snuck glances at a huge turquoise lake peaking at me through the trees as I cycled down. No wind strength could have wiped the smile off my face as I biked through the French Alps.

The climb up had been a different story. My red rental bike and I were hesitant to get into the mountains surrounding Annecy, France. It was my first time renting a road bike, I didn't have my usual comforts like clip-in pedals, plush bibs, jersey, Wahoo computer, insulated water bottles, and fancy sunglasses. It was hot, I only had one water bottle, I wasn’t familiar with the route, and I was alone. Determined to ride anyway, I started pedaling along the lake. A friend had sent me a route that wrapped around half the lake before it detoured into the mountains. But I checked the elevation on that route and nearly jumped out of my skin. I had never done a climb as big as that, with a 7% gradient. Maybe I'd stick to the flatter lake loop.

I kept cycling, hoping that by the time I came to the fork in the road where I had to choose the hard or the easy route, I'd have made up my mind.

The fork came quicker than I wished. The red light up ahead marked my turning point. As soon as it turned green I had to choose. Left would take me back to town, the flat way. Right would take me back to town, the long and challenging way— through the mountains.

There are often points in life where we come to forks in the road like this one. Most times the easiest decision is to take the most straight-forward shorter path. Less risk, less challenging. But we know by now the most rewarding path is the one that is full of detours and obstacles.  It’s usually always better to take the longer way.

Excuses fluttered into my head— “You’re alone, don’t venture too far by yourself.” Or “Take the easier ride and enjoy yourself. Not everything has to be a big feat.”

About 20 meters before I reached the red light, it turned green. I felt a bit of dread and anxiety knowing I had to make the decision in a few seconds. But I knew that if I went left, I'd spend the rest of my days wondering what the mountain route would have been like and regretting the views I didn't get to see.

10 meters. 2 meters. 1 meter. At the last second, I swerved right.

“Here we go,” I said to myself, or more so to my legs, which were about to start working harder and harder to get up the mountain.

First came the series of switchbacks. I had a strange sensation like I had been there before. I realized the scenery looked just like Zwift. Zwift is like a video game that combines indoor cycling on a trainer, with virtual routes around the world. In 2020 during Covid, I spent my days cycling on Zwift and doing routes in virtual France. The trainer automatically adjusts the resistance so that it feels like you are climbing mountains in real life, while the screen shows you the world where you are cycling through.

That’s why I thought it seemed familiar... because years ago I had biked through a virtual version of the French Alps. Except on Zwift if it got too hard I could switch routes. But in real life, I couldn't do that. If I committed to the mountain, I had to commit fully. There was no going back.

It was like the Shaolin master said last year-- once we say yes to something, we must fully commit to it. Our mind can take us farther than our body can imagine. It can push us through the limits we self-impose on ourselves. We are stronger than we may think.

All in all, the joys of the spectacular scenery were way better in person than on a virtual screen. I passed pastures of cows on the hillside, saw other cyclists, stopped at cafes for espresso, and biked through little towns that smelled of fresh bread. Nothing compared to the reality of cycling through the mountains. The climbs were strenuous but spectacular.

It was an adventure. I was out there on two wheels exploring the world, feeling every curvature in the road, every bump on the asphalt, and every millimeter of wind on my face.

That’s the beauty of the bicycle. It’s a freedom machine powered by our own human energy and takes us places faster than walking but slower than a car or train. We put our muscles to use, stop when we want, interact with people along the way, and allow our spirit to roam.

Some might say that it’s quite bold to go off on your own in a place you’ve never been before and bike for 84km/52 miles. Some might wonder why I’d do such a thing by myself. Others might prefer to stay in the town at a good restaurant or museum.

To me, it was the perfect activity. I’d spent a month and a half in Paris and was ready for some time in nature and a new challenge. Coming to Annecy by train by myself had been the perfect dose of decompression while also trying out a new adventure— cycling the French Alps.

Over time I’ve learned to enjoy time by myself. I know I’m never alone… there are people everywhere we go, just waiting to be befriended by us. But the more I travel, the more I enjoy the freedom that solo travel can bring. The autonomy of my choices. This time my choice wasn’t to stay in town and go sight seeing. I’d also done enough hikes in my life that I was ready to try something different. That’s why I opted to rent a bike and go explore on two wheels.

I know I only got a taste of riding in the French mountains. I didn’t do the hardest or longest climbs, it was a hot 95ºF, I didn’t have the best bike, and I only had a regular disposable plastic water bottle (I had to stop and open the cap every time I wanted to drink…. Now I’m very grateful for the water bottles you can squeeze!) But it was a great validation of the immense growth and fun we can have when we choose the long way.

Had I taken the shortcut of the flat lake, I wouldn’t have met Pierre, an elderly cyclist who spoke Spanish and beat me to the top of Col de la Forclaz. I wouldn’t have gotten a snack at the local dairy farm’s vending machine for chocolate pudding. I wouldn’t have met the camper van family who gave me an ice-cold Capri-Sun to drink. I wouldn’t have seen the spectacular view of Lake Annecy from the top of the mountain. I wouldn’t have had strangers pass me with their car with the windows down shouting “Allez! Allez! Allez!” as my brick legs pushed through the climb.

I wouldn’t have discovered the strength I did have in myself, despite my self-doubts, to climb those mountains on two wheels. I wouldn’t have felt that magnificent wind pounding my face on that glorious descent after the big climb.

It was a reminder that we can choose to make our own adventures. Most of all, when we reach the red light with the fork in the road, we must remember the choice is ours. Remember that magic comes when we choose the long way home instead of the shortcut.

The pièce de résistance was arriving back at the lake after 7 long hours of pedaling the mountains, and jumping fully clothed into the cold blue lake. The grand finale to my two-wheel day of adventure.

PS: I wrote this today while sitting in the Luxembourg Gardens on lunch break. In honesty, I haven’t been inspired to write much lately because I’ve been so busy living! But today a conversation with a friend combined with the inspiring air that fills the famous gardens, gave way to this piece. Today was one of those ideal Paris days that I love: An early morning bike ride to meet a friend to have a philosophical chat over coffee, getting work done at a cafe, and writing from the park. I hope you enjoy it. Leave a comment below, or share this with a friend!