And Outside The Rain Fell...

Well. It gets hard. I really cannot think of a single word to describe today that I haven't (ab)used enough already. Marvellous? Brilliant? Excellent? Superb? Wonderful? Fantastic? Fabulous? Terrific? Awesome?

Well. Today was everything above. And add some magic to this, and you have Annecy.

It didn't start this way. No. The beginning was bad. Reaching at 6.15, we played train-train and came back on time to Annecy at a comfortable 8.30. The "we" here was just Patwa and me. Another first. To our disappointment, Annecy was wet. And as much as I love rain, cause I absolutely love it, bicycles and rain just don't go along well with each other.

A little town on the South Eastern part of France, surrounded by the Alps, Annecy was beautiful, uncrowded, plain and simple. The hallmark of the town, if I can call it that, was an absolutely serene lake, with the town on one side, the Alps on the other. And except the mountains immediately flanking the lake, every other peak was snow covered.

Our sole intention of coming to town was to cycle, and it was terribly disappointing to have everything so dreary and wet. Except the lake. Water so clear, we could see the 5 foot deep bottom as if there was nothing in between. A few yachts by the lake, mountains on one side, this lake was long, and narrow. Very long, very narrow. And that made it an absolutely divine place to cycle on.

Well, the weather gods (are you listening Q?) had other plans. And there we were, sheltered under a shed by the lake, watching everything just stand there, calm, serene, untouched, pristine, in heavy rain.

Finally bored, we came back to the station by bus, and this time decided to play bus-bus by picking up the next bus to an unknown destination. After convincing the non-English speaking driver that we indeed could travel on the bus for free (which just for the record went to this forsaken place called Grenoble), there we were, all set to leave by 11.10.

I saw the first glimmer of hope, and sunlight, at 11.09. A speck of sunlight peeking through the clouds. As though it was almost mocking at us. Hell, no. Nobody mocks at us and gets away with it. And so we ran. Out of the bus. The expression of the bus driver, well, it was absolutely hilarious. A look of shock, disbelief, a look that said, "you-bl***y-geezers! What-were-you-thinking-when -you made-me-run-all-around-the station-asking¬-my-buddies-if-you-travel-free-on-MY-bus, and-now-you-buggers-suddenly-run-out-like-that. With-those-silly-grins-of-yours!"

Sunlight. And no rain. All of a sudden. The rain god(dess) did smile upon us at last.

We needed bicycles. And food.

The first pitstop was at Subway. Yes, I loved Amy, for speaking wonderful english and so gladly, in France. And being curious about the world.

Walking on, the cycle rental. 10 Euros for half a day, per person. We could get a half a cycle in India for that amount! The deal closed completely, he had my passport, and I, his cycles.

Jet Black. A blue biker's helmet. A bottle of orange juice. And smell of fresh earth. And the cold, cold weather. Suited up, we were set.

And then it began. Amongst the most memorable cycle rides ever. The cycle track was perfect. Deserted, strewn with autumn leaves, many offshoots every now and then, and even a few stunt platforms! And Scenic. It passed by the lake for the most part, and whenever we didn't, we just went off road.

Passing through carpets of red leaves, passing by pony farms, passing by acres of bright green meadows, crystal clear wave, a few smiling pedestrians (see France, you can do better!), dirt tracks, numerous wooden and metal bridges passing over rivulets. Europe was alive. The countryside. And here I was, on a cycle. Just one deep breath said it all, air so pure, so full of scents, of leaves once, of flowers the next, of baked bread, of the rain the next, of mud the next, and the ever lingering smell of fresh grass.

Needless to say, we stopped often. And so did our cameras. Podiums going far into the water, there we were, listening to Dil Chahta Hai and Yeh Haseen Wadiyaan, going absolutely crazy. We were enjoying it all like never before. And were cycling.

The countryside changed drastically, and often, in spans of minutes. We often cut into the littlest French villages, riding through them. The smell of fresh bread still lingers as I write this.

And at the background all through was this pristine lake. Azure blue water guiding us. And snow capped peaks in the far back drop. We drove on, and on. And on.

Through a cycle only tunnel. Through tracks that were little more than a feet wide. Through dense trees. Through the most romantic of fall enveloped through ways. Through meadows. Through an apple grove even. Through villages. So engrossed were we in the ride, little did we realize it was raining again.

Having had begun at 12,
We’d set 3.30 as the point we would start pedalling backwards.

En route, before I forget, there were several remarkable incidents. A WC (European for a loo) that completely washed itself everytime someone used it, including the room! Patwa ji falling off the cycle while trying a stunt podium. My cycle stand breaking off (poor baby), which I then wrapped splendidly in tissue paper. Some pro cyclists going "zooooop" past us. A meadow where we had doves flying all over our heads as we cycled through it. A pair of ferocious dogs snarling at us. Several intentional wheel skids. Two races, one of which Patwa won. A lady who gifted us two apples. A crazy brilliant tunnel solely for cyclists.

By the time we finally did decide to turn around, we had menacing clouds all around us, and the rain grew steadily heavier. And we cycled back. With just one pit stop. Legs, mind, and the jacket doing an okay-ish job of protecting me from rain, all working towards getting me back.

The rain had got heavy by then, but this was undoubtedly the part I loved most. Riding alone now (for Patwa ji chose to race ahead, while I preferred to go slowly, minimal gear changes and a steady ride), it gave me enough time to ponder over several things. And in the midst of the most scenic routes I've witnessed. Just one pit stop later, we were back.

My jacket drenched completely on the outside. Numb, cold hands. Wet gloves. And hurting calves. Yet, given more time, I would have gone ahead. Far ahead.

It was funny when I presented the broken stand to the shop owner, almost as a gift, neatly wrapped in tissue paper. He laughed himself, and said, well, 1000 Euros. A few stupid explanations later, he decided not to charge us for it. Phew.

And the result.

35 kms of cycling for the day. Through fairly uneven terrain. One stop on the way back. Rain. And the most beautiful part of France yet.

It tested the limits of our endurance on our way back, but wow, never had I enjoyed so much. Even with just one other person. Brilliant. Especially with the pace we set. Many thousands of laughs. Many "wows". Tour de France next, who knows?

And finally. Subway again, a full meal, some brilliant coffee. A change of clothes. Our cold feet warm again. It all happened there.

Walking the streets of Annecy, the constant rain and the cold convinced us to do a little train-train. Well, finally, we screwed up. Going to this place called Remilly, 15 minutes away, we searched for a non-existent supermarket for kicks, and realized our immediate return train was cancelled. An hours wait, brilliant music giving me company (I bow to you, O Ozzy Osbourne and Rahman), we were back to Annecy.