Okay, so cycling across France—why did I think I could pull that off? I’m just a guy from the States, sitting in my messy apartment with empty coffee mugs and a dying plant I keep forgetting to water, thinking back on that insane summer I decided to bike through a whole country. Like, I’m the dude who gets winded biking to the gas station, but France? Sure, let’s do it. It was sweaty, chaotic, and I totally embarrassed myself, but pedaling through those French fields was unreal. Here’s my messy, honest-to-god beginner’s guide to cycling across France, straight from my dumb American brain.

Why I Thought I Could Bike Across France

So I’m stuck in traffic last year, my car’s AC is shot, and I’m scrolling Insta, drooling over these French countryside pics. Vineyards, chateaus, the whole deal. I’m like, “Yo, I could bike that.” Spoiler: I was so wrong. Picture me, day one, wobbling down a dirt path in Provence, my backpack stuffed with a baguette I thought I needed.

It started with me just wanting to ditch my boring life. France sounded fancy, like I’d be sipping wine and looking cool. I found this awesome site, France Velo Tourisme, with beginner bike routes, and I was sold. But, uh, nobody told me France is basically all hills. My bad.

Those Damn Hills I Wasn’t Ready For

I thought cycling in France meant chill, flat paths through lavender fields. Nope. First day in the Loire Valley, I hit this hill that felt like it was laughing at me. My legs were like, “We’re done, dude!” I had to walk my bike up, sweating through a jersey that was definitely not made for this. Pro tip: check your route’s elevation. Komoot saved my butt for planning bike tours in France and avoiding surprise mountains.

• Tip 1: Start with short rides, like 20 miles a day, so you don’t pass out.
• Tip 2: Pack light. My bag was a disaster—baguette crumbs everywhere.
• Tip 3: Learn to fix a flat tire. I didn’t, and it screwed me over.

That Time I Got Lost and Became a Meme

This is so embarrassing, but whatever. Day three of my French bike adventure, I’m feeling cocky, cruising through some tiny village. Then I take a wrong turn and end up in a muddy field, bike stuck, with these French farmers staring at me like I’m a total idiot. I’m muttering “Bonjour!” while yanking my bike out, but I’m pretty sure they snapped a pic for their group chat.

Getting lost taught me to use offline maps. Maps.me is a lifesaver when you got no signal. Also, ask locals for help—they’re usually nice, even if they laugh at your awful French accent. Cycling across France is all about rolling with the chaos.

Packing for a Bike Tour: My Dumb Mistakes

I packed like I was moving to France for good. Stupid. My backpack was so heavy, and I brought jeans? Like, who bikes in jeans? Here’s what I figured out:

• Must-haves: Cycling shorts, a good helmet, repair kit (actually learn to use it).
• Nice stuff: Portable charger, collapsible water bottle.
• Don’t bother: Heavy snacks. France has bakeries on every corner—grab a croissant.

Cycling Weekly has great gear tips for bike touring France without killing your spine.

The Straight-Up Magic of Cycling France

Okay, enough about me screwing up. Cycling through France is like living in a postcard. One night, I’m riding through sunflower fields at sunset, my bike creaking, and I see this janky signpost pointing to Paris. Felt like the universe was like, “You got this, bro.”

The vibes are insane—air smells like lavender, tires crunch on gravel, and you hear wine glasses clinking at some café. I stopped at this tiny vineyard in Bordeaux, and the owner let me try wine straight from the barrel. I was not sober enough to bike after, so I napped under a tree. Best nap of my life, no cap.

Tips to Soak Up the French Bike Vibes

• Chill out: Stop at villages for coffee or a quick wine (don’t be like me and overdo it).
• Plan for rain: France gets wet. Pack a light rain jacket.
• Enjoy it: Don’t rush. Cycling in France is about the views, not speed.

Wrapping Up My Messy French Bike Trip

Look, cycling across France was hard, humbling, and a little ridiculous. I fell off my bike twice, got laughed at by farmers, and once ordered a raw steak instead of directions (don’t ask). But every sore muscle and dumb moment was worth it for those times—like zooming downhill, wind in my face, feeling like a rockstar. If you’re thinking about bike touring France, just go for it. You’ll mess up, you’ll laugh, and you’ll have stories nobody believes.