Outside the station we found it difficult to find the right road. A passing young Frenchman did not know the Rue San Quentin either. It’s a pity Johnny Cash was not around. As we turned back to search the helpful guide came rushing back, having realised which road it was. Such helpfulness was typical, the locals responded very favourably to two “middle aged” cyclists obviously far from home. Once on the route all we had to do was follow it, and keep our wits about us to avoid the hurly burly of traffic, cyclists, and pedestrians, all of whom stood out as quite different to us. They knew what they were doing. We traversed one way streets where moped drivers wove in and out of the cars while we kept a careful distance. We cycled down main boulevards on parallel cycle ways, and sometimes had to brave traffic, moving out what seemed miles into a vulnerable area to avoid parked delivery vehicles.
Still, we made it safely and saw some beautiful views on the way. As we crossed Pont d’Austerlitz we had a clear sight upriver of the Notre Dame, and the Seine was majestic. Then we crossed over to the left and there was the Gare d’Austerlitz. Sanctuary.
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