To Nice

May 5, 2025

Splat! crap! Something hits my head while I'm leaned over the bike strapping down my load, and then I see an ugly yellowish mess on my bike glove and realize how disgusting my head must look too. Fortunately I've got a partner along and she's stocked with her usual wad of toilet paper for emergencies in her pocket, and agrees that this qualifies as an emergency. Five minutes later I've been decrappified as much as is possible under the circumstances and we start coasting toward the waterfront, reminding each other to wash our hands well when we get a chance.

I'm pretty sure it's a bad omen for the day to have it start out with getting bombed by a gull, so I shouldn't be surprised if there are some hiccups ahead. Before this though everything was going well and much better than expected. We've been watching the weather forecasts for the last few days and noted that rain and the possibility of thunderstorms was predicted for today, with torrential downpours possible. It's only 20 miles from here to Nice, but the climb to Èze along the middle corniche rises in between here and there. If there are likely to be thunderstorms and a downpour anywhere, high up there against the cliffs seems like a likely spot for them, so we decide that we'll play it safe just catch the regional train.

Things look different this morning though. There are some light showers when we waken up but it's really pretty bright out - and it looks like we've got four decent hours to work with starting around eleven. Rachael surprises me by saying she thinks we should go for it, so we do. I assure her that we'll find spots along the way to take shelter if we need to hide for a while - which, when we look out from our deck this morning is easy to imagine.

The view east toward Italy looks pretty menacing, but we aren't going that way.

The view to the east up the coast looks more promising, but some good luck may be required.

A few blocks later we're biking west along the waterfront, pleased to be staying dry for the moment at least. We're heading up the same climb that will eventually top out at Èze Pass it we stuck with it the whole way to the high corniche. We're not going that far though, but will take the turnoff to Èze when we come to La Tourbie. So a pretty simple ride - 9 up, nine down. As we bike I assure Rachael that the gradient never gets that bad, and eases off on the back half of the climb.

And fortunately for me, I remembered correctly and it isn't that bad. Rachael really doesn't seem to struggle with it at all, but it's more of a challenge for me. I can tell I've been doing some climbing lately, and I'll be ready for a day off soon. At least it gives me an excuse to stop in a few spots to admire the same views I stopped for two days ago.

This looks like a day that could go either way.

Not long past La Tourbie, we stop at a junction while Rachael swaps out her GoPro battery for her backup so that she'll be ready for the descent ahead. About a quarter mile further on, just as we're nearing the top of our climb and the turnoff to Èze, we stop again - this time to shelter inside of an open garage because suddenly it's raining out.

It doesn't last long though and soon we're climbing again. Only a hundred yards further on though I pull off the road because I've suddenly realized I'm not wearing my glasses. I carefully frisk myself, but I don't have them. I must have set them down for some reason when we were in the garage, although that doesn't really make sense to me - it's not something I would do any more. Ignoring for the moment Rachael's immediate reaction that I really do need to wear a chain so I've always got them securely on, we both coast back to the garage - but they're not there.

The only other possibility is that I set them down back at the spot where Rachael swapped in her backup battery. But that really doesn't make sense. Is it possible that I biked that far without them without realizing I? It seems so unlikely - I always wear them when biking now - but we check it out anyway of course. And they're not there either.

It's a pretty glum ride up to the spot where I first noticed they were missing. I fully expect to see a crushed frame on the side of the road, but that doesn't happen either. So, a real mystery. And as I ride, there's one other possibility that occurs to me and I so stop once again and refrisk myself. And they're there - I had them all along, but just couldn't feel them for some reason. Next time, Rachael gets to do the frisking.

At the turnoff to Eve. We're stopped here while Rachael swaps back in the original battery, because she's discovered the backup is dead. She'll just keep using the other one until it dies.

Finally the fun begins and we start the descent that will continue all the way to Nice. Rachael starts the GoPro as soon as the descent begins, hoping to shoot some premium video, which she does - for about 200 yards, when the battery dies. So that's really a shame, because this is a truly stunning descent, one that makes me think of the Nesque Gorge except there's more traffic and more development. It pains me to zip past one stunning view after another and not have a record of it, but I'm already thinking I'll bike up here in the next day or two and bring the GoPro with me.

Beginning the descent to Èze. It's essentially all downhill for the next nine miles.

The sky ahead grows darker and more ominous as we descend, and just as we come to Èze it starts raining. Rachael advocates for seeking shelter while we wait it out, and we see the obvious spot: a restaurant! Why not eat lunch here instead of Nice we ask ourselves, and can't think of a good reason. So we grab a table and a good meal, sit inside enjoying it whilst the umbrellas pop up outside, and by the time we're done eating the sky is drying out again.

Heck, it's hake! Neither of us could remember exactly what hake is but I told Rachael I thought she liked it. Fortunately I was right. It helped that it had sweet potatoes, also!

Souris d'agneau, with a side of mashed sweet potatoes.

And then we drop again, falling like rocks for the next five or six miles past one drop-dead view after another, until suddenly we're inside the city limits and then biking along the sea on the famous promenade. The first view is really stunning, with dark clouds on the horizon contrasting against the incredible pale turquoise of the sea. I really should have stopped there, as well as other spots as we dropped. I didn't though, resolved to come back up again in a day or two.

But I may not be going back up with the GoPro after all, as I decide after Rachael and I finally make it to our sixth floor Airbnb apartment in the old city, a place that sucked us in with its description: A/C & Last floor with LIFT in Vieux Nice #amazing! Just what a bike traveler likes to see - a perfectly placed apartment with an elevator, and with what looks like plenty of room to bring the bikes inside.

That's not the amazing part though. The amazing part is the elevator. We've been in some really tiny elevators before - many where you need to lift the bike up on its rear wheel, and even a few where we could only get the bikes in by folding them. But this one is off the scale small, definitely the most cramped elevator I've ever seen.

First though, we've got to get to the damned elevator, which is up nine unadvertised steep steps. Which is a problem, but it's also a problem that the entryway from the street is so narrow and cramped that we can't get everything inside at once. I huff and puff my way up with Rachael's bike and lean it on the landing by the elevator door while Rachael waits at the bottom with the panniers piled up inside and my bike propped against the open door, half inside and half out.

The Airbnb doesn't mention or show a photo of these stairs that lead you to the first elevator landing. Or the ones at the other end.

And then I go down and bring the bike the rest of the way in while Rachael lugs the panniers up those steep nine stairs, and then comes back down to guard my bike while I go up and try to take hers up to our sixth floor room. Try to take it, because her bike fits in, folded, but just barely. It's with a real sense of relief when I've finally got it and myself squeezed in far enough that the door will close and I can select the fifth floor, because the elevator doesn't actually go to the top. There's another half flight at the top to be managed once we get there.

But I'm not there yet because it's so cramped in the elevator and the keypad is behind my back so I pick the third floor in error. I wrestle the bike out and prop it on the landing while I walk the six stairs up to what I think is my floor and I test the key on both doors there. Neither works of course, but trying them is enough to alert an occupant who clarifies that I'm actually on the fourth floor.

I leave the bike there and go down to liberate Rachael, and wait there while she goes up to the fifth floor with all the baggage (which in itself is a tight fit) and then up to the sixth, where the key works and she calls to let me know she's in so I can bring my bike up too - which is a truly horrible experience. It's an extremely confined space, it's very hot so I'm sweating profusely, and after multiple attempts it's clear that my bike won't fit without slimming it down. Fortunately I've got my multitool in my pocket for some reason and I can remove the handlebars, which finally is just barely enough. For a minute I thought we'd be stuck with carrying the bike up the stairs the entire way because I'd need to remove the pedals - which we couldn't do because the pedal wrench is back in Bari with our suitcases. But it fits. Barely, with maybe a half inch to spare.

Or this situation. I think there's about a half inch clearance between the pedal and the door. By my rough measurement, it there's at most 18 inches of clearance to work with.

When I get off at the fifth floor and awkwardly wrestle the folded, partly disassembled bike out I call up to Rachael and she comes down to help me lug it up to the room. One we get there I lean it against the wall. I'm hot, frazzled and exhausted and really just want to take my shirt off and lie down; but we can't, because there's still Rachael's bike two floors down to be retrieved.

But finally everything's up, and while I'm collapsed stalwart Rachael with the stouter heart and the stronger knees heads right back out to the grocery store.

So I don't know, but I really don't think we'll be seeing that video of the descent from Èze. I don't think either of those bikes is moving again until it's time for us to leave here. At the moment it's more than I can stomach thinking of getting them down once, much less adding another discretionary round trip. So let's be glad for the video we do have and use our imaginations, OK?

Sound track: Windsong, by Ralph Towner

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Today's ride: 21 miles (34 km)
Total: 517 miles (832 km)

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Rich FrasierMaybe tomorrow the famous Scott optimism will kick in and you'll be out on the bike? Could happen...
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