The Rhone, where it empties Lac Leman, travelling South past the Quai de L’ile, is an aquatic bicycle cementary.

Bike Aquatic

Why do people throw good working bikes into the Rhone river? As far as I can tell, this is akin to my fifth grade escapade involving breaking into my elementary school and plastering my home room in waterloged toiletpaper; I was 9 or 10.

I don’t think I ever contemplated tossing a bicycle into the river; the joy must be short lived, watching two wheels sail through the air and then the inevitable plunking sound they must make. I don’t get it.  But apparently, this has replaced cow tipping for Genevoise entertainment, because on a typical Saturday there are no less than ten bikes submerged in the Rhone.

On a recent weekend morning, I took matters into my own hands. Armed with a length of nylon cord and a makeshift grappling hook, I began dredging for bicycles from the bridge by the Bel Air bus stop. After a few inquiries from curious bystanders, two municipal policewomen stopped to check on the progress of my operation: “Qu’est-ce que on trouve la ba?”, Ah, oui, bon, vous nettoyez la rive? Mais c’est super, il y a beaucoup des velos pour pecher! Bon chance!”

Another bystander, a man and his young son who was enthralled by the notion of fishing for bikes, stopped to help me hoist one of my catches, weighted down by lake weeds and detritus.

Mermaid Bicycle

Ironically, it is once the bikes breathe again fresh air, that any exposed metal rapidly oxidizes and moving parts freeze up. Still with a good triage and an ample amount of grease, the bikes roll back life and shed their watery past (they do maintain a distinct parfum de Lac Leman however).

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