Day 35: Noyon to Paris | 130km
3 July 2026
We hadn’t initially planned on cycling all the way to Paris, but the thought of having a day off and spending more time together away from the bikes was simply too appealing to pass up.
Unlike yesterday, this ride got off to the perfect start. Fueled by a giant tuna sandwich and a buttery croissant from a bakery just a stone’s throw from our hotel, we rolled out into the crisp morning air. The roads were silky smooth, the temperature was pleasantly cool, and the excitement of sharing dinner together in Paris kept our legs turning. We settled into a strong rhythm, averaging nearly 20 km/h. That might not sound particularly fast on a lightweight road bike, but on fully loaded touring bikes carrying all our gear, it felt like flying.
After about 80 kilometres, we stopped at the first pizza place that looked promising. We each ordered an ice-cold Coke and, naturally, a pizza. At home, I probably drink a can of Coca-Cola every other week, but on this trip I’ve found myself craving one almost every time I’ve spent hours riding beneath the scorching sun. There’s something incredibly refreshing about that first cold sip. I probably should be reaching for a sports drink instead, but these Cokes have become a small reward after long, demanding days in the saddle.
With around 30 kilometres remaining, the landscape began to change dramatically. Quiet countryside roads and charming villages gradually gave way to industrial areas and rows of weathered low-rise apartment buildings. We followed a bike path alongside a canal, and with every kilometre the city grew more alive. It was a warm summer afternoon, so the waterfront was filled with people sunbathing, jogging, cycling, chatting, and simply enjoying the weather. A few brave souls were even out on paddleboards. They were brave because the water looked like the last place you’d want to take an unexpected swim.
Eventually, we crossed into Paris proper, and that moment felt incredibly special for both of us. Since Irene joined me in Gothenburg, the most technically demanding part of the entire route turned out to be navigating Friday afternoon traffic through the heart of Paris on our way to the Eiffel Tower. Cars, cyclists, buses, scooters, and pedestrians moved in every direction, somehow creating a chaotic rhythm that only seemed to make sense to the people living there.
Yet nearly 4,000 kilometres into my journey from the North Cape, I still felt completely in control of my heavily loaded bike. By now, it feels like an extension of my own body. I can sense every movement, anticipate every shift in balance, and guide it through tight gaps and busy intersections with surprising confidence. In that moment, I felt completely connected to this collection of steel, rubber, and bolts that has carried me across so much of Europe.
When we finally rolled onto the lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower, the emotions caught up with us.
Before setting off, Irene wasn’t even sure she could cycle 1,500 kilometres. Considering she had bought her bike less than three months earlier and had very little time to prepare, that uncertainty was more than understandable. What she accomplished was extraordinary, and something many riders with far more experience would struggle to achieve. Together, we had ridden through what became the most severe heatwave in European history, battled relentless headwinds, endured crashes, and pushed through countless difficult moments. Now we stood together in front of one of the world’s most iconic landmarks.
For me, it was also a moment to reflect on where this journey began. Standing at the North Cape, Paris and the Eiffel Tower had seemed unimaginably far away. Yet kilometre by kilometre, across winding roads, towering mountains, quiet rivers, forest trails, bustling cities, and every high and low in between, I had made it here.
My journey will, of course, continue. But so far, no destination has captured the distance I’ve travelled quite like this one. Paris wasn’t the finish line, but it was the clearest reminder yet of just how far I’ve come.