Our sentimental journey through France and Italy: A new edition with Appendix

In Short

This narrative follows a husband-and-wife duo as they attempt to pedal a tandem tricycle from the northern coast of France toward Italy. Inspired by Laurence Sterne’s eighteenth-century classic, the authors seek the "sentimental" joys of the open road—chance encounters, local color, and personal reflection. Through mechanical breakdowns, grueling head-winds, and the bemused stares of French villagers, the pair finds that the true reward of travel is not the destination, but the endurance and absurdity of the journey itself. It remains a charming, honest testament to the spirit of early cycle-touring.

The Story

The journey begins at the coast of France, where the authors set out with the grand, perhaps naive, ambition of reaching Rome. They carry with them a copy of Sterne’s A Sentimental Journey, viewing their own travel through the lens of literary tradition. Yet, the reality of late 1880s road travel immediately asserts itself. Their tricycle—an ungainly "Bayliss & Thomas" contraption—is less a romantic chariot and more a temperamental burden. The pair struggles against the infamous French pavé (cobblestones), which vibrate through their bones and wreak havoc on their equipment, and face the constant, exhausting challenge of persistent head-winds.

The arc of their trip is defined by these physical trials and the emotional oscillations that follow. They pass through Nampont and Abbeville, searching for the ghosts of literary history only to find modern indifference or the simple, hard work of rural life. When the winds grow too fierce or the roads too punishing, they surrender their pride to board a train, though they always return to the pedals when the path clears. As they progress toward the Cevennes, the landscape shifts from the flat, golden plains of the north to the dramatic, daunting mountain ranges that represent the true test of their resolve.

Throughout the trek, the couple’s dynamic is tested. They bicker over pace, lie to boastful local cycling agents about their daily mileage, and occasionally lose their tempers with the elements. However, they also share moments of genuine magic: a sunrise over a valley, the unexpected kindness of a stranger, or the thrill of a long, effortless coast down a mountain road with the wind at their backs. By the time they near their later stages, the original, lofty goal of reaching Rome is secondary to the simple, rhythmic reality of the ride itself. They finish their account not with a triumph of distance, but with a collection of practical appendices—a wink to the reader that while sentiment is fine for a book, a cyclist ultimately needs a reliable map and a good sense of humor.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins. The authors set out from the coast with high hopes and a literary mission, hoping to prove that the bicycle offers a more intimate connection to the landscape than the locomotive. They are quickly humbled by the physical reality of the road, particularly the jarring, unforgiving nature of the cobblestones.

The struggle for sentiment. As they traverse the French countryside, they attempt to map their experiences onto the sentimental tradition of their predecessors. They are met with a mix of curiosity, occasional hostility, and the mundane indifference of villagers who care little for their romantic quest.

The battle with the elements. The middle portion of the narrative focuses on the relentless, exhausting fight against the wind and the mechanical failures of their machine. They are forced to reconcile their desire for the "pure" journey with the practical necessity of using the train to bypass the most treacherous stretches.

The mountains and the relief. Entering the mountainous regions, the strain of the climb is eventually rewarded by breathtaking vistas and the rare, euphoric joy of a downhill run. The physical exhaustion begins to give way to a deeper, more resilient appreciation for the terrain they have conquered.

The final reflection. As they conclude their ride, the authors abandon any pretense of grand achievement. They offer the reader a pragmatic guide, acknowledging that the beauty of the journey lies in the small, unscripted moments found between the start and the finish.

The People

The narrator, Elizabeth, balances a genuine love for the landscape with an honest, often weary admission of her own physical limits. She serves as the grounding force of the story, frequently questioning the wisdom of the journey while documenting its beauty with a sharp, observant eye. Her husband, Joseph, is the enthusiast, driven by his desire to sketch the world and prove the viability of their tricycle. He is the more stubborn of the two, often pushing forward through mechanical disasters and bad weather, though his competitive streak occasionally leads him into absurd, performative boasting with local strangers. Together, they are an imperfect, relatable unit; their relationship is defined by shared labor, mutual support, and the inevitable, human friction that arises when two people are pushed to their physical extremes in a foreign land.

In Its Own Voice

"Had he known what was in our hearts, I think he too would have introduced himself with a little story of the wants of his convent and the poverty of his order."

The authors reflect on an encounter with a monk, illustrating their desire to see the French countryside through the romanticized lens of their literary hero.

"In my heart I was of the same opinion. But I declared the ride to be a mere nothing, and almost apologised for not making it longer."

Elizabeth recounts her struggle to maintain a brave face during a grueling day of riding, highlighting the tension between the image of the stoic traveler and her own exhaustion.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book explores the gap between the idea of an experience and the experience itself. It asks whether one can truly live out a "sentimental" journey in a modern world governed by mechanical limitations and physical fatigue. The authors argue that the value of travel is not found in grand, historical reenactments, but in the gritty, unglamorous persistence required to navigate the world on one's own terms. It is a meditation on the friction between human ambition and the indifferent, often hostile, natural world.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy travel memoirs that favor raw, sensory detail over polished itineraries will find this book deeply rewarding. It captures the essence of the "slow travel" movement long before it had a name. You will appreciate the warmth of the writing and the authors' willingness to be seen as both foolish and heroic, often in the same paragraph.

Be aware, however, that the narrative is a product of its time; the authors' Victorian sensibilities and their focus on cycling-specific technicalities—such as the state of the pavé or the specific model of their tricycle—can feel antiquated. Modern readers may also find the occasional reliance on period-specific language and class-based observations a challenge. Yet, for those interested in the history of cycling, the book is an essential piece of cultural record. What stays with you is not just the account of a ride, but the vivid, visceral sense of the French landscape as it existed over a century ago: a world of grey stone gates, poplared roads, and the quiet, recurring beauty of a country that remains both mysterious and welcoming to those who take the time to pedal through it.