Body by Google Maps
Reflections from cycling tourists attempting to use Google Maps to pedal across Europe
This is a blog post I copied from my European bike tour with my wonderful sister (Lynz) in the summer of 2015. We had just finished creating the first samples of the Redfrog Athletics Cycling Wear: for Women by Women San Francisco line, and we decided to dedicate five weeks of extreme user-testing to cycle around Europe and test out the goods.
At this point, we had been on the road for a week or two with a couple hundred miles under our belts, and we were about to embark on a Swiss Alps adventure.
*Important side note: our bikes were lost on the way over to Europe, so we were on 10 speed Giant commuters that we purchased from the only bike shop that was open in Paris in August.
Geneva, Switzerland (August 15, 2015)
Lynz had been warning me about this next ride weeks before we even departed for our Euro Bike Tour. It was the first day of real climbing in the Swiss Alps, and all of our research had led us to the same conclusion — this route would be hard AF. Important side note: this research was coming from road cyclist bloggers on 15lb carbon fiber bicycles with 20+ gears. Our situation was slightly different… 100lb fully loaded bicycles with limited gears and questionable brakes. YOLO
We were up at 6am, ate breakfast, reloaded our houses on wheels, and were on our way out of the campsite by 8am. The first few climbs were absolutely gorgeous, and I was feeling quite confident and optimistic about the day. Lynz, on the other hand, was dealing with some intense quad cramping, so we did a slight weight distribution reorg, and I put as much gear and food as possible on my bicycle. This seemed to help equalize our paces for the remainder of the morning, but it was about to have some major negative repercussions for my happiness and well-being in the very near future.
We made it to Saint Claude (our second breakfast location) in a few hours and were feeling exhausted and exhilarated. We had a few magical descents on the way into the city that involved yelling back and forth about the awesomeness that is life and adventure; there was also quite a bit of questionably dangerous bike dancing. That’s the amazing thing about climbing… usually there is some sort of downhill to match it, which means you feel like a boss on wheels, entitled to bike dance, stretch your hammies, and go as fast as you want (all things I love). The fact that our downhills involved absolutely stunning views added a few bonus points on the stoke level.
Lynz and I found a bar in Saint Claude with some outdoor seating and wifi. Then we drank some espresso and ate lots of oatmeal, peanut butter, and granola (the basics). It took us an hour or two of re-charging our devices and our bodies, but we eventually felt ready to make our attempt on the ride to Geneva. Lynz, who is always thinking ahead, found a grocery store down the street from the cafe and bought some baguette sandwiches along with a tomato and an avocado (for our American sandwich needs). I tucked the goods away in my food pannier with glorious thoughts of eating delicious sandies on top of a mountain dancing in my head.
We rode out of the beautiful mountainous city taking videos and pictures, as it got more and more breathtaking with every turn. I was in such a good mood that I wasn’t even fazed when we took a wrong turn and climbed one mile up a 10% grade before realizing it was on the wrong road. “No worries,” I told Lynz breathlessly, “it could have been way worse.” This pattern would become the theme of the day, and it turns out, I was very correct… it can be way worse.
After correcting the first wrong turn, we went up a 17% grade hill for two miles. We had to dismount and push our bikes for the last quarter mile because after stopping for a breather, it seemed like a death sentence to try and restart on a grade like that. It was miserable, but we were kinda laughing about the ridiculousness of it all. I stopped laughing when I got to the portion of the road that faded and was replaced by loose gravel. We didn’t want to descend the two miles we had already climbed, and Google Maps made it look like this path was our only option, so we started pushing. Pushing a loaded bike up an incline of 17% is hard on the mind and body. The baggage causes an extremely awkward angle, and no muscle survives without cramping at some point. Pushing a loaded bike up a 17% muddy / gravelly road is a bit like what I imagine Sisyphus’s life looked like after death. Instead of an immense boulder, Lynz and I had Giant bikes (see what I did there — if not: Giant is the brand of our bikes) and instead of being the deceitful, we were the deceived (Google Maps was the deceitful). I had lots of think time to come up with this greek mythological comparison. You’re welcome.
Anyways, back to the situation at hand. Lyndsay and I are struggling to push our bikes up this horrible terrain at about .5mph. We each had different strategies for counting steps or breaths to see if we could make it a bit further each time before we squeezed our brakes to prevent back roll as we tried to regain normal breathing patterns. Another fun addition to the mix was the fact that we were covered in bugs. Without a free hand to do any damage, we were forced to let the bugs buzz in our ears and bite our exposed bodies. Luckily, we were both sweating so much that I think we drowned a few. It’s all about the small wins.
This climbing continued for three hours. I think we probably covered a mile and a half in that amount of time. One of the highlights occurred near the top of the mountain when I was attempting to switch pushing sides by lifting my legs over my bike one at a time while squeezing my brakes. The sequence went like this: left leg over, weight shifts to left leg, right leg lifts, left foot slips, the bone (you all know which one) comes crashing down onto the bike frame as my lower back slams into the front pointed part of my saddle, I see stars, I make a noise I didn’t know I could make, and then I am ok (relatively speaking).
By the time we got to a paved road, I almost dropped to my knees to kiss it. The road was too hot, so I decided “nah.” Instead, I grabbed a stick to scrape off the caked mud and pebbles stuck in the bottom of my shoes. Lynz and I spent the next few minutes acknowledging that this was the hardest physical challenge either of us had ever done. We high-fived and then got back on our bikes to start climbing on real roads. The climbs were hard, and the bugs were nasty, but it was so so so nice not to be in gravel that I didn’t even care. Unfortunately, we were still dependent on google for some direction, so we kept turning around and backtracking at every turn that led us to a dirt road. Eventually we used driving directions instead of bike and found a road that looked legit, so we decided to stay on it no matter what. This road led us up the mountain at a reasonable grade and we even saw other cyclists on it. Great success.
We made it to the top, descended into a cute little mountain town and found a cafe with shaded seats. Done. We parked our bikes, ordered coffee, and then downed the sandwiches within minutes of sitting. We couldn’t communicate very efficiently because we were both beyond the point of exhaustion. We just kind of looked at each other and nodded occasionally as we pointed to the maps and tried to figure out if there was a backup bus option. After an hour or so at the cafe, we decided that if we were going to do this thing (bike to Geneva), we had to leave now.
We got back on our bikes and started another climb. Within minutes, it started pouring rain. This made me laugh really hard and yell some inspirational quotes to Lynz, who was hanging over her handlebars in a state of exhaustion and hilarity. We laughed and cried and continued pedaling, as our bikes cleaned themselves and occasionally shot clumps of mud up into our faces on the downhills.
I’m going to blame our next mistake on the fact that we were probably functioning on 10% of our brain capacity. A few hours later, when Google Maps told us to make a right on what looked like a paved, real road, we followed it. The road was bumpy but remained paved for two miles. It was also a super steep downhill that curved through a field of cows with bells around their necks. It was all very magical; I flew down the giant descent singing “the hills are alive with the sound of muuuusssiccc.” At the end of the downhill… gravel. Not only was there gravel, there was no road where Google was telling us to make a left. We had a moment where we considered pushing the panic button and calling for help, but we decided to start the pushing of our houses on wheels back up the massive hill instead. Once we got up the first hill, Lynz spotted what looked like car tire marks in the grass in the area near the “road” Google wanted us to turn on. We were desperate to do anything but climb up the hill at hand, so we went back down and biked through the grass.
The grass lasted about 50 meters before it turned into the exact same terrain we spent three hours on earlier in the day. Back to pushing the bikes up mud and gravel with rocks and branches and bugs and all things to make life as difficult as possible. Just when I thought my body could not go any further, I was forced to push past the physical limits I had previously held as law in my mind. While those limits were being surpassed, thunder and lightning began to play a game of tag, and the clouds above released some empathetic tears down on us. Lyndsay and I shared a glance that sent us into a fit of laughter. By the time we got to the top I was nauseous and seeing stars, but also feeling like a super badass. A badass that is horrible with directions (and makes questionable life choices), but a badass nonetheless.
We stayed on that main road and used car directions the rest of the route. There was one last five mile climb that was supposed to be the “worst,” according to the bike blogs, and it was a piece of cake. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard, but we crushed it. It’s amazing what happens when your perspective shifts (and you go from dirt / gravel to paved road). We finished the last bit singing that song that goes, “we started from the bottom now we here” as we pointed to the insane view we now had of the town where we started the climb. Unfortunately, those are the only words of the song we knew, so we just sang them over and over.
We took victory pics at the top and then went down the most epic descent of the trip thus far. It was gorgeous and the perfect reward to the most insane cycling day I have ever had. The rest of the 12 miles to Geneva were flat and beautiful and we flew. We got to our airbnb around 9pm. We showered, changed, and treated ourselves to Italian. Most physically challenging day of our lives complete. Boom.
