Struck by lightning, almost.

The last day of bikepacking in France.

After another lovely encounter named Cecile and a good night sleep I get up with the birds and roll up my camp as the sun rises between the clouds.

My mood is somewhere between excited about this adventure, looking forward to a rest in my own bed and scared of what awaits me at a somewhat temporary destination.

Because effort usually pays off, I decide to cycle up into that cute french town surrounded by vineyards on my way. I overcome the steep hill with the motivation for a coffee break at the top. A little disappointed at first because I don’t find that lovely bakery with handmade croissants I had pictured in the middle of these cobblestone streets.

But then I come across a wide open fancy gate, a lovely park unfolds behind it. Busy people are setting up some vine tasting stalls all around. I ask someone nearby if it’s a private or a public park. Their answer is: “Usually private, but I don’t think today they mind.” Which is good enough for me to get in, rightfully so. Because after carrying my heavy bike up some endless steps I am not getting disappointed a second time.

A little pavillion next to a chateau, an endless view, some chairs.

I only have to add a coffee with some food and I am the happiest person in town.

Two hours later a surprised and a little scared seeming lady appears and asks me how I got in here. What I was doing? I reassure her I was just about to leave and pack up the remaining of my extended breakfast in that "apparently-not-so-public-park".

Back on the square I watch the French drinking vine at 10 in the morning. While I eat a goat-cheese pastry, that would indeed perfectly match a glass of french rosé as one of the stall-guys remarks. I resist, also I don’t have a wine glass. “Maybe tonight.”

With music in my ears I cycle through the green hills and forests that I love so much. All sort of memories come up and as the oak trees open their arms over my head and pass me a gentle hug, my eyes are filling up with tears. There is so much joy, love and sadness in myself in that moment overflowing and flying into the dark green roof of these endless mystical forests.

Every corner invites me to have a break, all the grass is soft and green, the cows look at me the air is fresh and clean. In love with these trees I decide to take a scenic short cut through the woods, a good 10km of forest path. Just after I had admired a few trees and the yellow flowers on each side of the path a sudden, clearly unexpected storm breaks through, right over my head.

Inner seconds I am drenched wet, barely I had the time to put the phone in my pocket. Thunder and lightning. “Hopefully they wont pass right where I am, how was it again you calculate how far the lightning is from where you stand?” Needless to remember as the lightning goes down right in front of me and a loud thunder growls exactly over my head. No shelter, just on wards I pedal through the flood, wet, tired, scared, my only mission is to survive that storm, get out of the forest without getting hit by lightning. Enough drama? Hill stones start pouring between the rain, I forget who I am, what is up and what down, my body is steeming, drenched wet and alive. I just keep going.

Under the roof of the next church I pour the water out of my shoes, stuff a handful of dates in my mouth and attack the least 10km I have to get through before I can have a rest.

I look at my legs covered in red, blueish spots reminding me of the hill stones bashing down on me. “One more storm in this life that I survived.” I couldn’t have seen this coming, nevertheless I went through and I survived.

It wasn't necessary and I couldn't have prepared for it, nevertheless I got through alive in one piece, a little bit stronger than I was before. Thats reassuring figuratively and metaphorically speaking.

Thank you for passing by and enjoy your week!

All photos and words are owned by ©kesityu taken and written by myself.