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OK, walking the streets of New York in 4-inch heels is a sport — and like anyone who is at the top of their game — it’s an art as well. Not to take away from all you active types in New York City running and biking in Central Park and along the Hudson… New York women, I salute you. You look fabulous.
Lately the Dude Girls have been working their asanas off (yes, we’re trying to stay grounded with a regular yoga practice) in order to prepare us for the upcoming shows such as Outdoor Retailer. That’s why spring time was filled with the playfulness: Katerina Nash, a pro mountain biker for LunaChix has been rockin’ it on her Mountain Bike this season; Heather River found time for a little road trip and wound up at a rodeo (imagine that!); Paula raced for Dude Girl at Sea Otter Bike Races… and won! Kim found time to ride in the Napa Valley at an annual getaway with friends called the Funhogs. As we race to put all the finishing details on our clothing before the shows, we’re dreaming of the next getaway.
My boyfriend, Walter, and I rode around Lake Tahoe… at South Lake, about mile 40 or so, Walter’s vest spilled out of his back pocket, wrapped around his rear cog, and ripped the derailleur right off the stay, bent the rear drop out so that the frame is toast (we’ll check with manufacturer to make sure). After visiting a nearby bike shop and having them give the final death sentence to his bike, we walked to a nearby hotel to ask them to call a cab for us to take us back to the North Shore (about $100 cab ride!)… A 
woman was standing outside waiting for her car to come around and she spotted me and said, “I have those same shorts! I just bought them from Terry Bicycles!” I introduced myself and told her that I was the owner of the company and asked her where she is from: Connecticut! I felt so excited that little ol’ Dude Girl has made it from its tiny perch in Truckee to the roads of Connecticut. The couple loaded our bikes in their car and hauled us to the North Shore, where we bought them lunch – far better than that cab fare! Really sweet people and a fun, unexpected connection over our very own BIKE SHORTS and our wonderful partner Terry Bicycles! What a fun day after all. ‘cept now Walter needs a new bike. Nosotros hablamos Orbea.
Three weeks on the road with Andrew Chen and suddenly he’s gone. Pas de Andrew. (No Andrew).
We’ve spent day after day developing our inside jokes, and now I’m repeating them to myself and laughing – even chuckled out loud at dinner tonight. Hope the guests this summer will join in the fun. One of our daily favorites goes like this: “Kimmie, Pas de fromage!” and as the day progresses, “Pas de chocolat, Pas de vin, Pas des saucissons, Pas de, Pas de” everthing in France. We ban chocolate, cheese, croissants, butter, cream, and wine from our diets every day. And then religiously break at least one of our commitments by 9 AM in the morning, and the rest by day’s end. It’s impossible here! Photos below: Basque Cake (made of cream) and Basque Wine (delicious)
But Pas de Andy is a BIG deal – it means pas de the guy who compiles, saves and backs up gps, voice and photo data each day. It means pas de the driver who sags my rides when testing a route. Pas de non-paid consultant — this guy’s free advice is smarter and more well thought-out than all the Big Consulting Company team’s put together, and I get it daily! Pas de Dude Girl fan, who makes me feel like a superstar every day — sometimes those few pats on the back are all you need. Pas de Andy. He waved good-bye at 6 AM this morning. Photo below: Andy searching for a Wi Fi signal at 2 AM so that we can get online. (On this particular night we drove for nearly an hour searching for a strong enough signal!)
Tonight, Pas de dinner date. Took myself to dinner tonight to evaluate a restaurant for our group this summer, but also to occupy myself in the absence of my Compadre of the last three weeks. You know what I love about France? I love being seated for dinner knowing that there is only one seating for the evening. I can watch the light change over the Basque Bay in St. Jean de Luz as the sun sets for four hours if I want. There is no change of service. Nobody hawking you at your dinner table, rushing you along so they can make the next seating. I love Coffee as a course. Always served after dessert. Always accompanied by petit fours — bite-size candies or pastries offered as final crescendo to a long meal. Just when you thought it would never end, another sweet surprise! An oh-so-decadent luxury.
I loved the sunset out the dining room window tonight: one big fishing boat gently drifting away, and a small row boat bobbing. Just two floating vessels against a tired sun, still coaxing a twinkle from the sea. Andy often jokes that the French Government sets up the scenery for the tourists before they arrive, and then takes it all down again when they leave. I thought of that tonight as I watched the romance out my window, and smiled. Bon soiree Andrew! The Dude Girl guests will love what you have done here. Thank you. (And you are right, the Government is out taking down the charming set as I write!) Hope you don’t mind me sharing a bit of your email to me today during your layover in Paris: “Bonjour Kimmie! I got so hungry that I had a jambon fromage sandwich at the airport.” Andrew: tomorrow? Pas de fromage! Pas de chocolat! Pas de vin! I promise.
Ah the unexpected things (joys and disappointments alike) about travel… Andy and I are down in the Pyrenees now. His bike has been giving him trouble. Making a strange sound. In our hurry to get over 3 passes yesterday, we found a really well-known bike shop here in Luchon (first thing in the morning) and the owner and chief mechanic, Gerard, put it on the stand… and then went back in his shop like he had all the time in the world. He returned with a pair of garden clippers and snipped a beautiful pink rose for “the lady” — that’s me! — before setting to work. Ah, the priorities of the French…
… 8:30 PM that night and we were still standing there – now with a group of French and Italian and English cyclist onlookers who were all gathered round for the fix-a-bike affair. Gerard chatted and joked, and drank a cup of coffee while he worked — get this picture in your head: not a cup of Starbucks or my personal favorite and best coffee in the world, Peet’s, but one of those eensy-weensy demi-tasse ceramic cups of coffee and a saucer of course from a cafe down the street. (Perhaps we have witnessed the beginning of coffee-to-go in france?) We learned quickly that fixing a bike doesn’t happen in a hurry here. It’s a bonafide social occasion for the mechanic and all who care to pass by.
Also learned that this particular French mechanic and shop owner (and perhaps ALL French mechanics and shop owners?) have a great deal of pride. Our comments and suggestions, like our basic description of the problem to start with and then a more urgent, “Why don’t you get on it and ride it around and you will DEFINITELY hear and feel what we are talking about,” went unheard. Gerard completely rebuilt the bike, including drilling a few holes in the frame!!! I’m not kidding — the entire bike dismantled, then a new chain, new derailleur, tightened bolts, AND new tubes in the tires (not quite sure how that relates to the crunchy crank problem but he seemed convinced that sometimes weird sounds can come from tube placement in a tire). Oh, and the tape lining the wheel well too. That got replaced with a heavier plastic material. Andy’s gonna love all the extra weight on these climbs over here! Anyway, not even the wheel well tape liner worked, and Andy returned after test ride #9 shaking his head that the problem was still there. Andy and I went to dinner and told Gerard we’d return tomorrow morning. Lendemain (the next day) Gerard worked enthusiastically to identify and solve the problem — still without ever sitting on the bike, although we continued to gently insist that sitting on the flippin’ bike seat was exactly what he needed to do to understand what was going on. He would make the next “certain repair” until there was nothing left to do, but get on the damn thing! So, it’s 5 PM the eve of the second day, after hours and hours of work and repairs and practically a new bike, and Gerard finally saddles up. In just a few pedal strokes, there was surprise and understanding in his immediate reaction to the continued crunch of the rotating crank. He let out an acknowledging grunt and hoisted the bike back on the stand. Bad/damaged crank set. The last thing to be replaced. Not sure what Andy’s price tag ended up coming to, as I went on a solo ride into Spain and back to work off some of the cheese that is settling onto MY frame like a thick coat of mud. It’s nearly 6 PM now, my legs are tired (from something I can barely call a ride), Andy’s wallet is empty and we still have 3 big passes to get over… Dontchya love the way this country or maybe this whole continent, works? You know, it could have taken Gerard 5 days to fix the bike and I still would have been thinking about that rose…
We’ve been on the road for over a week now, retracing routes to make sure all is perfect for our guests, and finding new ones. Our favorite part of the day is when we find a back road or alley that makes our riding particularly unique. We discovered a new favorite road yesterday — practically an alleyway — on the edge of a steep mountainside, meandering its way through hanging villages overlooking a beautiful emerald river, starting to gush a gorgeous glacial silt green from the spring melt. Andy coined it “Kimmie’s Secret Stash.” It is. We’ll save this one for our last day, so you can say good-bye to the Alps properly.
We’re also in search of unique dining experiences. If you’ve never had Raclette you must try it. Did I really eat half a wheel of cheese? Well, met my cheese quotient for the year! Andy says that it’s a good source of calcium. Hmmm…
I can think of so many moments on our test-ride over Col d’Aravis yesterday where I just wanted to scream with excitement. I get so tickled inside at the thought of being able to share this with you all. Of learning a new back road that we just have to add into the itinerary, or a new little climb that affords you an entire hour of the soft clanging song of cowbells, and the views at every turn of a small village far below and dramatic white peaks far above. Make sure you are riding at home! Because we want to throw in a few of our favorite “extras”, meaning added loops here and there. Yeah, that means a few extra kilometers, but you’ll devour each and every one. We know you will…
Van Rats — We live and work out of our van.
We live off of sandwiches of cheese and ham.
We ride. And we find an office to work in whenever we can.
Ah, so good to be home… I called Pierre, our friend who helped us last year before our inaugural Dude Girl Adventure in the Alps (read more about Pierre and his family in my blog post from May 15th 2004) from Lyon to tell him we were on our way and his usual calm even at my last-minute notices, he said he would meet with me at MacDoe (McDonalds). And as usual, the entire family showed — Pierre, Colette, Johan, Marina. It’s like getting 4-for-1!
Pierre and Colette invited us for dinner and to stay the night. We accepted, and the smell of good things in the oven made us curious. We stood in the kitchen and watched Colette shave chocolate pieces into a cake batter and then load it in the oven as she pulled a local specialty breakfast pastry out of the oven. Dinner tasted so good with familiar and missed faces around me. Not that Andy isn’t a familiar and missed face! The food was great too: Home-made zucchini soup followed by a traditional sausage and potato dish.
It was the best night’s sleep so far this trip, and the next day Pierre took us on one of his local loops to get our legs warmed up for Alps riding ahead. A little lunch launched us for our next stop, a small village high in the Alps called Hauteluce. We bid farewell, but I assured Pierre we would call him for his assistance should we run into problems / challenges. He is our Master Problem Solver. At least he was last year. Hope the Ludi’s don’t get tired of us; we love them!
A practically bursting-at-the-seams Peugot 206 speeds us into the back alleys of the old section of Lyon. Cobbled streets separate two major rivers, the Rhone and the Saone, from the grandiose palace of white overlooking the city and monitoring our fun. We tuck into La Cour des Loges, once an old abbey built in the 13th century. Transported to another time.
Then awakened by our own hunger, we amble our cobbled path to Notre Maison (our house) and seat ourselves to a simply country dinner, typically Lyonnais, of Pig’s Feet, Salad with Chicken Liver, Sausage stewed in red wine with Lentils, a carafe of wine of the region, decadent desserts of chocolate and pralines, and finally a bottle of Rum plunked down on the table not because we asked for it, but simply because the waiter noticed we were having a good time and encouraged us to stay and extend our evening enjoyment. Despite our instincts on some of the menu items, it was all delicious.
Laurent and Bruno, the proprietor, joined us at the table to confide and share as if we were old friends dropping by. We felt happy in this place. Happy enough to avoid returning to our hotel. It was midnight in Lyon. The nearby river beckoned us to stroll and to wander a few more narrow passageways, where we stumbled upon a lone musician singing to the rock walls and his dog, Venus. Another man, closing his restaurant, invited us in for a drink. Suddenly it’s 2 AM in Lyon. Tonight was one of those perfect French evenings that I often have here - simple and yet so pleasant. Favorite Moments:
