thebicyclediaries | France / Switzerland

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Cameras: Canon 70D DSLR, iPhone 4 and GoPro Hero.

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: The big handover – thank you Kona!

: Oh god

: Tipsy & terrified

: Blending with the natives en route to Dieppe

: First hill spotted

: Camping spot #: nail it.

: Rest en route to paris #productplacement

: Camping spot #2: hunker down in weird suburban communal gardens for the night, overlooked by giant Virgin Mary statue.

: Wolf Creek-esque abandoned farm I wish I had never watched wolf creek, I really do

: I love my bike, but fear it doesn’t give me the respect I deserve. Am I in an abusive relationship? #warwounds

: My good friends Lauren and Michel, who feed, water and shelter me in Paris. The best hosts a bummler could wish for.

: Stand of satan: L&M do sterling job helping me attach stand to avoid further injury when loading / unloading bike – but sadly it’s an impossible task. Bike rejects it just a mile down the road as touching gear cables. Half a mm the other way and it’s touching the chain. Abuse looks set to continue.

: Camping spot #3: beady eyes spot this from down the river. Truly wonderful, until almighty electric storm hits during night and almost washes me away.

: Just one of dozens of closed shops, cafes and restaurants as I pass through the country. Where is everyone? #frenchapocalypse

: This motley crew – including a lovely Saudi couple who invite me to stay with them in Riyadh (right) – take me under their wing in Sens after a very long, hot day’s cycle. Very kind people.

: Sweet, soulful ‘nature morte’ Bruno Bonnet with his poor, dying dog Rocky. Gives me a bed and the best breakfast of the bummel so far.

: Bruno’s studio Emanating overpowering, nostril-stinging scent of oil paint and dog urine. Imagine sex panther for OAPs.

: Best loo roll sheath so far. Bruno’s house is wonderland of eclectic paraphernalia.

: A little Gaelic spirit: as luck would have it, Bruno transpires to be a great whisky enthusiast. After kicking off with a dram of Bowmore 12yo, he opens cabinet to reveal this little number. What a guy.

: Bruno’s boat painting

: Breakfast of champions, which sets me up up until dinner.

: The French put flowers everywhere, even in random hedges. It’s rather lovely.

: Just impossible to find any decent wine around here.

: I start to flounder ten miles from Chablis. Thermometer hits 37C at one point (though it only cost me about 40p so could be wildly off-base)

: Can I make it? Hit the wall at 41-mile mark. Il fait trop chaud!

: Doused and delirious: nearly drown in two inches of water when get overexcited by fountain inside abandoned farm. Is it portable? Let’s hope so.

: Celebratory Chablis: finally pull into Chablis and allow myself little indulgence. One glass for now, the rest squirrelled away in thermos for later.

: And the leftovers went into my panniers

: Camping spot #4 beside an official campsite in Chablis. Beautiful, serene, empty – and free.

: Camping spot #4 – again

: Trees and tractor

: Camping spot #5 beside another campsite in Avallon, across the road from the hemmed-in hoi polloi. Wonderful and peaceful.

: I call this: Camembert in grass

: Kona resting by Tumtum tree #productplacement

: Unreliable thermometer tells me it’s nearly 30C at 10pm. Camembert is consistency I’ve never seen before. No PJs for me tonight.

: Friday temperatures soar and I suffer. I really should have trained.

: Deer me: knock on door for water refill and old man answers, with this poor beast lurking behind. Make hasty retreat.

: Road to Autun: I make it 43 miles outside Avallon and crumble. The heat. The hills. My poor beleaguered limbs. Defy all rules learnt in school and flag down pick-up truck for final 15 miles. A glorious, bumpy, speedy ride into town. #carswereinventedforareason

: I make sure I only flag down trucks driven by semi-naked men.

: The Autun marching band celebrate my birthday with a medley of big band classics (they don’t realise it’s my birthday but it still counts)

: A mystery birthday gift from a secret admirer, going under the pseudonym ‘Monsieur Joyce’. Who could it be?

: Camping spot #6: my first time in an official campsite, in Chalon-sur-Saone. An extortionate 15 euros for a measly patch of grass in a canvas housing estate. I do feel safer, though.

: Big cheat #1: am behind schedule with almost completely useless right hand that I fear may require amputation, so decide to catch 6.20am bus for 50-mile journey between Chalon-sur-Saone and Bourg-en-Bresse. By time have unloaded and reloaded bike, I may as well have cycled.

: Camping spot #7: one of best so far, methinks: a secluded stream hidden from main road in misty Oyonnax. Finish Chablis in serene bliss – until horde of skunk-smoking teens tear up alongside. Scowl and waft underarms at them until they leave.

: Beautiful views on winding hillside passes towards Geneva. Mainly downhill after tough first stretch, thank god.

: More views

: My friend Kiran very kindly invites me to stay and I snap off arm in eager acceptance. Lake serene yet lively – exactly as I’d imagined.

: Lake Geneva: serene, yet lively (yet another of the city’s many paradoxes)

: The lovely Clement from Bike Passion who fixes up my bike to stop me permanently disabling myself. Gives me 20% discount for no reason at all. What a star.