A Summer Spent Bikepacking in Europe
By: Jess Meniere
The day before boarding my European-sans-return-ticket-adventure, I found out I needed double hip surgery. Two labral tears, and to be told the most feared reality of needing “to pick another sport,” and facing “the possibility of never running again,” because of my dysplastic hips. But, this wasn’t going to have me miss a summer-season of race-crew duties, photography and work opportunities, endless baguette dinners, and a series of insane bike packing trips…
I’ve sat with this diagnosis the last couple of days on my bike… And, while I don’t know what this means, and what next, right now, I’m riding pain-free, in my absolute element and the happiest I’ve been this year.
My perspective has changed from racing and needing to push hard, to soaking up the pit-stops, the Haribo-sugar-reloads, the shade under the trees, sipping “syrip de cassis” and not stopping my watch... Instead of racing after time, the trip became about savouring every single second of it.
Wrapped up in each day’s adventure, Josh, on one of our longest days, shared a concept called - resonance frequency - with me. The theory, in short, means one travels at a speed in which one can observe, relate and connect with their surroundings. This term was coined by Joe Cruz who celebrates the speed of bike riding, as “the pace which has a resonance with our souls… a way to take in the landscapes that keep us in a state of engagement.” A goldilocks kind of pace, which is just fast enough to keep us stimulated, but not too fast to be uncomfortable or to become all a blur, neither too slow to bore.
And, so ticking away day after day, the weight of this concept became more profound. The leisurely morning starts with hot pots of coffee and search for soft breakfast baguettes, catching our breaths every 1 km up the 10km long col-climbs, stopping for cold oranginas at tabacs and bidon refills from small village water points. Captivated by the weaving of single tracks in forested paths, guided by the safety of main road cycling paths, zig-zagging up the hairpin turns with the odd detour for a lake swim or “glace” to cool off… It’s a pace that savours the simple, unhurried joys of the journey, where every pedal stroke reminds us that life’s true richness lies not in the speed at which we reach our destinations, but in the depth of the experiences we live along the way.
To add to the beauty of stretching time, there’s something so unique about travelling with no need to arrive at a set destination. Travelling with no strict need to arrive anywhere by a particular time fosters a deep sense of freedom, turning the entire experience into one of playful discovery. Inviting a sense of intentionality in both arrival and departure, not dictated by schedules or expectations, but by the rhythms of the road and the desires of the heart. It encourages a connection to the landscapes we traverse, the small villages and towns we pass through, and the people we meet along the way. Pitching our tent in campsites — despite rolling in long after their closing and begging for a small piece of shade under a tree — or sleeping on a friend's couch, we found ourselves embracing the unpredictability of each night’s rest, knowing that each stop was not just a place to sleep, but a chapter in the unfolding story of our bike-packing journey.
Even when you strip life down to its simplest form, like slowing to the pace of riding your bike with the sole focus of getting from point A to B each day for eight days straight, life still has a way of throwing curveballs — daily and unrelenting. It's not a bad life, or even a hard life, it’s just life in its purest form, with all its unpredictability and imperfections. On our bike-packing trip, this reality was ever-present: a lost free-hub spring forced an expensive bus ride up the mountain on a Sunday afternoon to the only open bike shop, a leaking valve had us wary of our ascent up La Forclaz, and a night of wild camping turned into an unexpected scramble back on our bikes at 9:30pm in search of a campsite. We set off late each day, around noon, despite efforts to leave earlier, only to find ourselves battling through a relentless summer heatwave. A lost Birkenstock left us lopsided in our travels, and the cold chocolate milk that seemed like a treat before a massive climb up Col de la Faucille resulted in a vomiting bout which nearly derailed the effort. But, through it all, we pressed on, because this is the essence of bike packing—embracing the beauty and the chaos, understanding that simplicity doesn’t shield us from life’s hiccups, but reminds us that life remains wonderfully complex and beautifully imperfect.
While the pace slows, the time spent on the bike inevitably gets longer, and for that reason, even when you think you’ve got nothing left in you, when you’re convinced you’ve reached your absolute limit, there’s always a little bit more to give. As the saying goes, “Il faut des vitesses pour faire du vélo ici…” which translates to, “you need gears to ride here.” And it’s true—we climbed a minimum of 1,000 metres a day, each ascent testing our resolve and Haribo-fuelled-limits. There were countless moments when I had to stop, convinced that my brake pads were touching or bent out of alignment, blaming it for the struggle I faced. But in reality, it wasn’t the brake disc, it was the sheer challenge of the climb, the relentless demand of the terrain. Yet, somehow, even in those moments of doubt, when it felt like I had nothing left, I found that little bit more to push on and to keep pedalling until the next pitstop.
All of this brought us to the amusing yet profound realisation that bike-packing is really just an endurance eating sport. The daily battles with steep ascents and the relentless heat were made bearable by the simple joys of endless baguettes and fromage. While those staples seemed inexhaustible in their ability to fuel our rides, we did discover that there’s a fine line with chocolate milk—a lesson learned the hard way on a tough climb. In the end, it’s these small, seemingly insignificant moments that make the journey unforgettable, reminding us that bike-packing is not just about reaching the destination, but about savouring every kilometre in between and every bite along the way.
