Part I: Down the Rhine, Out of the Rain

Day one of any ride south is not really riding. It is transit: the part you pay in advance so the rest can be pleasant. Six hundred kilometres of A3, A31 and A6, the bike on cruise, the visor cracked open, the same four thoughts on rotation.

The rain gave up near Langres. Not dramatically — no shafts of light, no cinematic parting of cloud. It simply stopped being worth mentioning, which is how weather usually ends.

Beaune at four in the afternoon is a town built entirely for people who arrived tired. I had a room, a plate of something regional, and the deep conviction that I had already done the hard part.

I had not done the hard part.