The off

The day for departure came at last. The bike had been partially dismantled: the handlebars turned sideways; the pedals turned in; and the saddle lowered; and the front wheel strapped to the frame. It all fitted into a large plastic bag that Aer Lingus had supplied. I was up early but only just before Cecilia rang to wish me well; typical of her to remember to call early and to get the whole venture off to a good start. It set me up for the day.

In order to fit the bagged bike into the Volkswagen Golf hatchback I had folded down the back seat. Deirdre and Sinéad squeezed into the front passenger seat while Andrew was delighted to be in the back with the bike. The flight was at 11:45 so we left at 10:00 to allow plenty of time for the check-in. The bike was convenient to carry in its collapsed state and I loaded it onto a trolley at the airport, with Sinéad or Andrew taking turns to ride on the front. Sinéad managed to run me down with a trolley and grazed the back of my ankle.

One of the best decisions I had taken was not to cycle in to Paris from the airport. As a result I could travel in regular clothes and pack all my gear, including the pannier bags into a carry-on bag so that I only had the bike to check in. This presented no problem although I was anxious about having to leave it unattended at the desk while I went to the gate. Deirdre recognised my concern and volunteered to stay with the bike until it was collected.

Once through security … such as it was in 1995 relative to today… I hired a mobile phone for the three weeks. Yes, hired a mobile phone. It cost about £300 – yes, £, Irish punts - as far as I can remember. Getting a moblie phone awas a big deal. And the charger a thing of weight rather than beauty. People though I was crazy. Why would you want to cart a phone around with you all the time. Indeed.

I had been flying regularly with Aer Lingus to Brussels and to Paris during the year and so headed automatically to the lounge in Area B where it was politely pointed out to me that I should be in area A. I made my way to the departure gate in time to see the bike being loaded onto the plane - so far so good. We were quickly on board although the flight was very full. I was in the aisle seat 4C and at the last minute the occupant of the middle seat arrived. He was very much overweight and carried a marvellous range of bags all of which he endeavoured to pack into overhead bins. Having more or less successfully done so he squeezed into the seat beside me.

In Charles De Gaulle I waited at the carousel for the bike to appear. The attendant informed me it would be the last to arrive as it is brought up by hand. Indeed it was and despite one brake cable dangling loosely where it had escaped from the mechanism it appeared to be fine. It amazes me how a bike with all its awkward parts survives on a flight. I was so pleased I put it immediately on the trolley and headed out to the taxi rank. There was a Mercedes taxi next in line and the driver had no problem with the idea of putting the bike in the back and moved her bags off the front seat to make room for me. Then we were into the afternoon traffic and heading into central Paris.

We had gone only a short distance when I realised I had been too smart. I had arranged to stay at a friend's (Vivienne) apartment and as she was away in the United States I was to collect the keys from the Aer Lingus desk. I had been so quick to get out of the airport I had forgotten completely to do so. Now I wondered how I would get into the apartment. Would Vivienne's friend Katherine be worried when I did not collect the keys? Should I ask the taxi to turn back? Could I leave the bike somewhere nearby and then travel back to the airport? I decided to keep going.

I chanced ringing the bell at the apartment and was astonished when it was answered. Vivienne had a visitor who was just as surprised to see me as I was to meet her. She was even more amazed to see me carrying the bike up the stairs. She wondered just who that particular present was for. She had heard, vaguely, that I was coming but thought it was not for a few days yet. I phoned Katherine, to discover she too thought I was due later and had not left the keys at the airport.

Carefully covering Vivienne's polished wooden floor with plastic bags I reassembled the bike. All was in order.

I went back into Paris to get a few last pieces of gear at Decathlon, a major bike store in France. But the brand new VISA card I got for the trip because my older one was scratched did not work in their machine - great start! I also went to IGN the French mapping service to get some very detailed maps. Met Katherine for dinner that night, returned to Villa Flore at 00:00 ready for the next day.
The forecast says snow over 1500 m - hope this will not affect the alpine crossing.