| Back in the beginning of January it seemed like a good
idea! After all, I had ridden the Wessex SR series for the last 2 years and I
managed the Crackpot 1000 last year without too much trauma, so how hard could
1200km be from Paris to Brest and back be? After all, we all know that northern
France is fairly flat and the only hill of note in Brittany was Roc Trevezel,
which I have ridden over several times with ease. I rang Shawn Shaw - founder
member of the Sadistic Ride Organisers Club - and asked for any tips about
doing the famous PBP. His answer was a curt "let's see if you qualify
first". This leads me to believe that Shawn doesn't know me quite as well
as my wife does; once I've made my mind up to do something, I'll do it! So I
enter the Wessex SR series as well as my own 200 Dartmoor Detour at Easter.
Then things start to go wrong! My Mother died suddenly at the end of January
and 4 weeks later my Father had a major heart attack and passed away 2 days
later. This was obviously going to be a jackpot year! My parents had divorced
when I was 4 and they had both re-married and I have Stepsiblings on both sides
as well as a full set of Stepparents. My Stepmother - a lovely French lady -
wanted to go and see her Sister in Saujon, on the Gironde estuary near
Bordeaux, for Easter and asked me and my wife, Brenda, to go with her. We could
not turn down the chance of a cheap (free) holiday in South West France so I
had to ring Shawn to say I couldn't make it to the Hard Boiled and then a hasty
call to Ian Hennesey saw me enter the Blackdown and Levels instead. The year
had started badly, I did little or no training and I was entered to do the
Easter Arrows to York with Ian Kendall, Brian Callow and Richard Harding. Dave
Stevens was also down to ride but thrombosis in the leg had sidelined him. The
Arrows was completed with a following tailwind and then on the Sunday I
completed my own 200. 2 days later we were in France and instead of basking in
the heat and enjoying some serious mileage on our tandem we were wearing thick
woolly jumpers and sheltering from the rain. The jackpot year continued! We
only managed 100 miles between storm fronts! Back from France the Porkers 400
was completed without any to do other than I hold the record for the longest
time for a 400. I started aged 46 and finished it aged 47! On my return to
Shawn's house, Jean had made me a birthday cake which, due to there being 4
other finishers there, I had to share! Anybody who has seen me eat will realise
that I like my food and to keep my weight over that which is healthy, I need a
lot of fattening food. The following weekend was the Blackdown and Levels,
which seemed anything but level - read Pete Marshall's account in the Summer
Arrivee! Then it was the Brimstone 600. I had always done well with this one
but it was soon apparent that the jackpot would come up. Sure enough, on the
way from Sherebourne the lightning attacks started. I was riding with Brian
Callow at the time so we made a beeline for a tractor shed where we sat out the
thunder and accompanying deluge for over an hour. Still we finished the ride
well inside time and basked in the glory of having qualified for the PBP. Now
the serious planning began. Ian Kendall, my prospective accomplice for the trip
to the PBP, had had a car crash, which had left him with a cracked rib or two
so he hadn't qualified yet. The following weekend he qualified so I got in
touch with Noel Simpson to confirm our entries and to also confirm that we
would like a room for two at the "AUK Hotel". The ferry was arranged
so all we had to do was wait and possibly train. Three weeks before the PBP saw
us do the Tour of Kernow (bloody hard), 288 miles, and then the following
weekend I rode to Kenilworth and back, 397 miles. A week's rest and then
Saturday morning 21st August, at 04.45 saw Ian and I leave Ivybridge to travel
to Dover, cross by Seacat to Calais and drive to Paris. The journey went like
clockwork until we got near St Quentin-en-Yvelines. Then we had to rely on the
photocopy of a piece of coal, or was it a map? to find the hotel. I think we
wasted about an hour looking for it! We had decided to stay at the AUK Hotel
because it would be good to be around a group of people some of who have done
it before and would "know the ropes". This was a good idea but it
backfired on us. A nicotine addict last occupied the room we had been given,
and it smelled like an old ashtray. We left the window open for all the time we
were there but the smell was too ingrained. The down side of leaving the window
open was the traffic noise. The hotel - Pavilion Bleu - is situated on the main
dual carriageway between Rambouillet and Paris. The turn off for Dreux is
directly outside the Hotel with a set of very complicated traffic lights
(possibly designed by Ernst Rubik). All night we were assailed with the sound
of motorbikes trying to out drag the speed of sound! It was apparent that I
wasn't going to get a good night sleep whilst we stayed there. Sunday morning
arrives bringing fine clear skies and temperatures that are set to soar. Ian
and I cycle to the Gymnasium in Guyancourt where the whole ride is run from.
The bike check is a them and us affair; the French, 2000+, have one tent and
their own queue whilst the Etrangers, 1700, have the other tent and their own
queue. This means that everybody gets processed quite quickly using the
following system. 1. A man outside the tent checks your spare bulbs, passport
and reflective belt - which he marks so that you can't lend it to anybody else!
2. Then you move inside the tent where 2 guys check that your mudguards are
secure and that your lights work. There are several teams of checkers in the
tent. 3. Leaving the tent by the other end you pass the table where you get
your free bottle - which is of a good quality and worth having. 4. Passing
through a gate you descend the ramp to the sports field which is of the springy
tarmac design so you are not allowed to oil your bike there! Parking your bike
on one of the many stands, you proceed to the main gymnasium where you find the
tables with the Union Jack flags and you identify yourself with your passport,
sign against your name and withdraw your Brevet card and magnetic swipe card.
At this point it is most important that you check all the documents most
carefully, Ian Kendall had the middle page missing from his brevet card and
there was nowhere for the controls to stamp! This was rectified by them
inserting a new middle page. The brevet card has your photo stuck to the back
page so it was the only way of solving the problem. At this point you also get
the entry form for the following days prologue, more about that later! After
doing all the paperwork you are free to look around the hall where you can pick
up your official cycling top (if you ordered one) and there are various items
for sale. I bought the shorts, gloves and bandanna to match the top so I could
"look the part". After reclaiming the bike from the parking lot you
leave the area after showing the man at the exit gate that your brevet card
(with photo) matches the number that you have already fixed to your bike (this
was sent to my home 2 weeks before the event). In the afternoon, Ian, Richard
Harding and myself, took a ride into Paris where I showed them a few of the
sites. I have visited Paris several times and I believe that they got a good
look at a few of the interesting places. In the evening we three went for a
meal at the Buffalo Grill in Versailles. If you've been to France and you
haven't visited one of these eating establishments then you won't know what
you've missed. The fixed menu of a salad starter, steak (or a large piece of
chicken) and chips, followed by an open tart of apple or pear for £6! I
would thoroughly recommend upgrading the pudding, for 10ffrs, to the
profiteroles, but make sure somebody has a camera to record the look on your
face when they bring the pudding in! It is huge and absolutely delicious.
Monday morning and we turn up for the prologue. The first 2000 people will get
a free drink and a free 'T' shirt. We are told that the lead car - an electric
Peugeot 106 - will maintain a steady 20kph. Ha Ha Ha! We averaged 29kph for the
30 kms and I was knackered at the finish! Still by turning left just before the
finish line I was first in the queue for the freebies which also included a
Faberge Brut deodorant spray! Obviously they knew that for the next few days I
was going to stink! After killing time by kipping on the grass in the park
where the prologue start/finish was, we went to the Restaurant where our
pre-booked pre-event meal was. This had cost us £7 odd but it was well
worth it. You could take your pick of starters and main course as well as
cheese, fruit and pudding. Then it was off to the Gymnasium to watch the 20.00,
80 hour, starters. At this point it is important to know that there are 3
different time zones to enter. For the super fast as well as the optimistic
there is the 80 hour (you have to do the whole ride within 80 hours) start at
20.00 Monday night. This is followed by the Tandem, Trike, recumbent, funny
bikes start at 21.45, whilst the main group for the 90 hour ride starts at
22.00. This is the group I was entered in and because it is the largest group
they send it off in sub-groups of roughly 700 at 15-minute intervals. As you
leave the holding pen you get a mark put under your brevet card photo which
signifies you exact start time, 22.15 in my case. This mark will only come in
handy should you take longer than the allotted time, then they will reduce your
time by the appropriate amount signified by the colour of the mark. The last
group to go is the 84 hour one at 05.00 Tuesday morning. This, I think would be
the hardest group to go in as I wouldn't sleep very well knowing that I had to
be there for 4am and that everybody was at least 7 hours in front of me!
Unfortunately, Richard Harding had entered this one by mistake! At 22.15 I set
off in the company of Duncan Archard and Ian Kendall as well as another 690+
nutters. The run through the suburbs is supposed to be controlled by marshals
but even though I was at the front I didn't see any of them! Ian soon pulled
away from us as if he was in a Time Trial, whilst Duncan and I discussed doing
the ride together. This was deemed impossible by me as whilst I can hold my own
with anybody on the flat and on the descents I am useless at the ascents. I am
convinced that my body attracts gravity more than other cyclists do. Duncan's
front light suddenly expired so we stopped to fit a new bulb. This promptly
blew! Duncan was running a 2.4watt front halogen bulb without a rear lamp as
this was provided by a battery powered LED. As we went along we discussed what
we needed to do as he only had 2.4w bulbs and he needed a 3 watt one. His
battery back up light was next to useless so we needed to get a 3-watt bulb
urgently. At this point we came across Drew Buck - he of the famous Brimstone,
night-time, Controle - riding his original Pederson. He was wearing a straw hat
and looked as if he should have been selling ice creams. After discussing the
various merits of Pederson designing the LED rear light back in 1909 to fit his
bike we carried on past Drew. Then salvation came in the shape of Dave "Dr
Box" Pilbeam. Riding fixed (absolute nutter or what) he had a spare 3-watt
bulb, which he gave to Duncan. We stopped to fit it and all three set off again
to catch up with Drew yet again, when I asked him if he would get a Babbage
original computer for his bike to keep it in period! Leaving Drew to his ice
cream round, we carried on with Dr Box until we realised that he was a man on a
mission, riding fixed he was determined to finish 5 minutes before he started!
Well that's what it felt like to me trying to keep up with him. The first
Contole was a food only one at Mortagne-au-Perche, 141km into the ride. You can
only imagine the confusion of night-time and 1000's of cyclists all seeking
food and water. I filled my bottles and carried on. I have to admit that the
route is well marked with arrows with orange shafts on the outward leg and
white ones on the return journey. The heads of the arrows are of a silver
reflective material, which show up nicely in your headlight although they are
sometimes placed in peculiar positions. I had maps as well as the route sheet
but I never needed either during the ride other than to check the mileage to
the next Controle. The first main Controle is at Villain-la-Juhel where I got
my brevet card stamped and decided to press on as the queue for food was quite
a long one. I saw one poor, unfortunate, chap being carted away by stretcher.
His race was over at 219km! Let me just say at this point that everybody rides
their own ride and decides, rightly or wrongly, when to eat and sleep. I am not
the best judge of when to eat as the next Controle was at Fougeres, 319km into
the ride. Would I have attempted to do the Hard Boiled 300 without food? I
think not. Luckily my salvation came at the small village of
Ambrieres-les-Vallees where I stopped at a small supermarket and bought, bread,
pate de fois, Knacki sausages (frankfurters) and a bottle of coke with caffeine
and sugar! Sitting on the shop wall I ate my fill throwing away the remainder,
as it wouldn't last long in the heat of the day. A quick 20-minute kip in a bus
shelter saw me refreshed and ready to pick up the pace. At Fougeres I got
stamped up and on my way again, I didn't need to eat again yet. All of the
Controles, which are based at schools, have a self-service restaurant, the Red
Cross will provide medical aid as well as a leg massage if needed, and water is
freely available. The route to the next Controle at Tinteniac was only 54 kms
but it seemed more, the heat of the sun was only tempered by the slight
headwind and the road seemed to stretch forever. At last a trip around the town
ended at the Controle where some food was purchased at very agreeable prices.
Pressing on I started the climb through and beyond Becherel. This is a long
hill and it pays to take your time but I spotted Duncan and Alan
"Pedals" Pedliham just ahead of me and this spurred me on to try and
catch up with them. After about 30 km I found them sitting at the side of the
road eating, I stopped with them only to have Brain Callow, my partner on the
Brimstone 600, go sailing past. We set off and soon overhauled him. The pace he
was going at was more agreeable to me than the one that Duncan and Pedals were
going at so we let them go and relaxed into a sedate pace. Brian was having
problems with his dynamo light so we played with the wiring until we got one of
his two systems to work. At Loudeac, (444km, 23.18 Tues) we stopped for a main
meal of pasta (pates) and mashed potato (puree) as well as rice pudding (riz au
lait). Brian's eyes were bigger than his tummy so he carried his rice pudding
around for a few miles in his handlebar bag! There were a lot of people at
Loudeac because they were expecting the leading group to be back from Brest at
any moment so the TV cameras were in attendance. On into the night and suddenly
a secret Controle at Corlay. Leaving the Controle we spotted a shelter in the
square. We moved in complete with the bikes and fell asleep on the quite
comfortable wooden bench. 30 mins later and we were on our way again, I don't
think Brian got quite so much sleep as I did, as he said I snored. I was asleep
with my head resting on the battery pack of my head torch so I couldn't turn
over without loosing my "pillow". We hit Carhaix-Plouguer at 05.00,
520km, and we opted for a quick sub-2 hour sleep in the dormitory. We had met
Ian Kendall and Chris Avery who had already slept and they recommended the
Dormitory, which was in a sports hall away from the Controle area. Leaving
Carhaix was hard as I could have slept for another day or two, but the ride had
to carry on to Brest. The climb over Roc Trevezel was a doddle although we
collected a bit of rain on the ascent. The drop to Sizun was done with the
accompaniment of a group of French riders and then onto Brest stopping briefly
at a small Patisserie where my hunger forced me to devour a custard tart, a
Pain aux Raisin, and a Pain. au Chocolate. As we crossed the bridge into Brest,
personal disaster struck, my right knee twinged, a pain I had had in my left
knee twice before! I knew that the pain would not go away without rest, a
luxury I couldn't afford! At the Controle I was at my lowest, knowing that I
was about to start a 600km ride with a duff knee that could only get worse. I
always carry painkillers with me as I broke one of my vertebra in a MTB
accident in 1993 and when my back starts to hurt it makes a ride miserable, now
was the time to take some. A quick ham roll and we were on the roll again.
Stopping for a quick snooze in the park at Landerneau made my knee seem almost
OK, and gave me the spirit to zoom up Roc Trevezel stopping at the top to take
photos of Tony Bailey and Brian as they crested the top with a view across
Brittany behind them. I caught up with Tony so I could get his surname and
accompanied him back to Carhaix where I stuffed my face whilst waiting for
Brian. The pork chop in sauce with pasta shells was lovely. Brian meanwhile had
gone through the Controle after stopping at the Breakfast Bar outside. Getting
back to my bike I found a small spoon on my bar bag, which I knew, had come
from Brian so I pressed on towards Loudeac. After about an hour there was Brian
standing at the side of the road. He had stopped for a snooze and it was just
starting to rain. I suggested we went on to Corlay to our personal shelter
where we had had a good stop earlier on. The rain got heavy enough for us to
stop and put our waterproof coats on and we waited under a tree for the worst
to pass by. On arriving at Corlay we went into the village shop and stocked up
with tinned rice pudding (all their tins have ring pull tops) custard, milk and
some tinned fruit cocktail. Sitting in the shelter we absorbed the food and I
settled down for a sleep. Less than 30 mins later I awoke to find Brian about
to leave. He had been unable to sleep and had decided to press on. I was up in
time to go with him and we carried on to Loudeac where we attacked some more
pasta and mash with rice pudding afters. Checking the room we saw Duncan
drinking some beer. He had decided to have a shower, which was an outdoors in
the buff experience, and he was summoning the (Dutch) courage to strip off!
Leaving him to it we set off although Brian said he was tired. I wanted to ring
my wife, Brenda, so when Brian stopped to get a cup of coffee - all along the
route there are kind people offering you water, coffee, food and even sleeping
accommodation - I carried on to find a phone box. The next 3 phone boxes were
coin operated and I had a phone card and little or no change. Then I found a
card operated phone in the middle of a town where I rang Brenda and told her
that all was well and that I was on the way back. After hanging up I waited for
a few minutes for Brian but there was no sign of him so I carried on. My right
knee had been behaving itself with only the occasional twinge until about 5
miles from Fougeres when it decided to let me know it wasn't happy with me
cycling! I limped into the Controle and ate some food whilst I contemplated how
I was going to carry on. I decided to have a sleep in the dormitory and let it
have a 2-hour rest. I wasn't a happy bunny when I was woken up as the knee
seemed very stiff and I needed just another few days sleep. I got back to my
bike and found a sign saying "Paris this way", Brian had obviously
left me a note but I didn't know were he was as he hadn't given me a clue as to
whether he had left or was sleeping! I pressed on and stopped at the shop in
Ambrieres where I had stopped the day before and ate the same type of food. At
Villaines-la-Juhel I got stamped and swiped and they gave me a postcard
complete with a stamp and a pen to send home to my family. A nice touch
slightly negated by the fact that, 1) I couldn't write it very well without my
glasses, which were in my rack pack on the bike about 200yds away; and I wasn't
going to walk back to it until I was ready to go. 2) My brain had turned to
mush and I couldn't think of anything to say! So ever onwards I head off for
the next Controle at Mortagne-au-Perche, this was the food stop on the way out.
At about half distance to Mortagne, I got bored so I stopped at the side of the
road to eat the tin of fruit cocktail that I had bought at Ambrieres. I also
remembered that I had a packet of wet-wipes on board so I strip washed with
them without removing my clothes. That may have been all right for Duncan but
not for me! Putting the used ones in my hat for safe keeping as I continued my
ablutions I was trying to think how I was going to transport them to a rubbish
container when I realised that I could just wear the hat with them underneath.
I stowed the empty fruit tin under the bungee that was holding my coat onto my
trunk bag. As I was getting ready to go I looked up just in time to see a group
of cyclists pass by me with what looked like Davie Lewis in the middle of the
bunch. I set off to try and catch them as Davie is very good company on a ride,
I had spent about 30 hours with him on the '98 Crackpot 1000. Not an easy task
but the knee was holding out and by pulling up on the right pedal, instead of
pushing down, gave me a peculiar cadence that soon picked up the speed. I
overtook the group as it fragmented on the next climb ever aware that Davie is
a better climber than I am (everybody is), and it wouldn't be an easy task.
Still, I could see another rider in the distance so I carried on at a higher
pace than I would have normally. On approaching Fresnay-sur-Sarthe I thought I
was catching him up so I shot through the town at high speed hitting a pothole
and hearing my empty can go bouncing off down the street! I'm afraid that this
put me off and I missed the arrow telling me to turn left! Hurtling down hill
to the river I realised my mistake and had to climb back to the Town Square to
rejoin the route! Isn't it funny how mistakes always include an extra up hill?
I didn't see Davie so I presumed he had stopped in the town or that I was
mistaken and it wasn't him! The climb around the ring road of Mamers is
horrible as the road is quite wide and it seems to exaggerate the slowness of
your travel uphill. Finally reaching Mortagnes I went straight for the food
counter and order the biggest plate of pasta and green beans. I don't think the
person serving me believed I would eat it all! They don't know me as it
vanished down my gullet in record time. Then out into the night for the
penultimate stage. Here I meet up with Pierce and Karen again, 2 Americans who
are doing a supported ride and Pierce is acting as a windbreak for Karen. I had
met them in the afternoon and Karen complained that every time Pierce started
talking to someone he would pick up the pace and she would drop off the back. I
suggested they got a "wire type" intercom and then not only could she
shout to him to slow down but also she could rip his ears off if he didn't. We
soon caught up with a group including Pat Kenny on his trike so we all ambled
in towards Nogent-le-Roi together until Pierce and Karen stopped for a drink.
The food at Nogent was as good as it had been all the way round so it was
Lasagne, haricot verts, rice pudding and some grapes that were wolfed down
there. Pat and I left together at a modest pace until a French group caught us
up and we stepped up the pace to stay with them. The last leg to Paris is
probably the worst, as it seems to be one steep hill after another. The French
group soon slackened off the pace but I was feeling good so I went to the front
to do my share of the work. However it became apparent that the group didn't
want to go at my pace so I gently pulled away from them. As I climbed through
the woods around Jouars I had no trouble in following the signs but my sense of
direction told me that we were being sent in a roundabout direction as opposed
to a straight line to the finish. This really gave me a problem when I hit the
outskirts of St Quentin as I could feel that I was going round in a big circle
never getting any closer to the finish. I would say that you do at least 6
miles extra as you "tour the town". At last the roundabout came in to
site where the entrance to the Gymnasium is and even though it was 03.40,
Friday morning, there were still people there to cheer me in. Not many I'll
grant you but I did hear at least 3 people clap. After parking the bike I went
into the hall to hand in my magnetic card and my brevet card. Then I just stood
there, the hall was quiet with bodies lying all over the place gently snoring,
I'd handed my stuff in and what had I got for doing the PBP - nothing! It was
the singular most disappointing part of the ride. I was ready to kill the route
master for dragging me around the town and here I stood with just a knackered
body to show for my efforts. When I used to do a lot of running (half
marathons, marathon, cross country) it didn't matter that I never won a race, I
always received a cheap medal for taking part. This allowed you to change out
of your running gear and still wear the gong to proclaim that you had taken
part. So with a sense of numbness I look around to see who's about that I know.
Ian Kendall had finished as had Brian Callow so we chatted for a while and then
drifted apart to watch other early morning finishers. At about 5am Ian and I
went back to the car, parked behind the Pavilion Bleu Hotel, to change and get
the bikes loaded. Then we headed back to the finish so that Ian could shower
and we could settle down to watch the new arrivals. I suggested sleeping on the
floor but I was still all fired up about finishing so I stayed and talked to
some of the people that were coming in. They all expressed regret that there
was nothing for them at the end - especially food. The food was very poor
compared with all the other Controles. Why would the organisers presume that
just because we had finished we wouldn't need food? One of the big South
Africans finished and he told me that one of his friends had spent the night in
Carhaix hospital after loosing his front wheel on one of the railway crossings!
As the day wore on we spent most of the time outside in the sun watching and
cheering the finishers. Suddenly Mick Brockwell turned up and declared he had
packed at Brest. We all responded with "yes, we packed there and rode
home". The old jokes are the best ones, only to find that the poor chap
had actually packed and come in by train! We made his predicament worse by him
having to make us believe that he had packed! By early afternoon I was all
"teamed out"! This is the feeling of "I've seen this all
before" brought on by the number of teams coming in together in identical
kit. I think the Danes were the most recognisable as their top was the Danish
flag skewed at about 30 degrees off of vertical. Then there were the Americans,
you could hear them finishing as they were all overcome by the enormity of the
task they had just completed. They also boasted the highest number of
"neck braces"! I can only presume that the distance was greater than
they were used to riding and their neck muscles had given up! I only saw about
5 people come in with bandages on so I expect the Red Cross had an easy time of
it at the Controles. As desperation hour approached we heard from the
organisers that extra time was being allowed as the route was over length; 1
hour was mooted but as I had made it 789 miles instead of the 754 advertised it
should have been 4 extra hours! Chris Avery turned up to rapturous applause and
I suddenly realised he had finished the day before and he'd been back to his
accommodation for a sleep and he was milking the crowd. On reflection this was
the right way of doing it. The Willesden bunch turned up riding in parallel
formation with Jack Eason and Carl Hrouda at the head and Pedals in the body.
They had waited for all the other Willesden riders outside of the town before
finishing in formation. A rousing cheer for the oldest finisher was soon
eclipsed by a loud cheer for Vicki Brown who was the youngest finisher having
celebrated her 18th birthday only a week or so before. Needless to say she is
also infinitely prettier than Jack is! Sorry Jack, but although for an
"old un" you're good, you're not that good! So all we AUKS were
waiting for was the Johnston's on their tandem and Noel Simpson on the flying
(or should that be lying) bedstead. Linda and David Johnston arrived in plenty
of time and I decided I needed to get some sleep as I had last slept Thursday
morning so Ian and I left the party to find a quieter hotel. We had earmarked
the Formule 1 Hotel at Plaisir, further away from the start but much, much
quieter. We were in luck and we got a room that didn't smell like an ashtray
for half the cost of the Pavilion Bleu. I'm glad I went to the Pavilion Bleu as
it was a comfort to be around other Auks, but after the ride I needed peace and
quiet. A meal at the buffalo grill followed by me dropping Ian back at the
Hotel while I went back to the campsite to say goodbye to all the Auks I could
find there. I finally hit the sack at 10.45pm on Friday night having heard that
Noel came in with a Police escort and that he was inside time. The following
morning on our way home we called into the Pavilion Bleu to say our goodbyes
but Noel had gone to the ACP (Audax Club Parisien) meeting so we bade our
farewells and left for Blighty. This was after watching Peter Marshall, Ian
Hennesey etc set off by bike for Le Harve. Our drive back to Boulogne was
uneventful and I slept on the short 1 hour Sea Cat crossing. A quick bite in
the MacD's in Folkstone and we set off for the 5 hour drive back to Devon. Ian
found it impossible to stay awake which was OK by me but he sat in the
passengers seat upright and letting his head fall before jerking it upright.
After 5 hours of him doing this I decided that he's earned himself the nickname
"Noddy"! We got home at 03.00 on Sunday morning and all in all it was
a spectacular adventure. If you'd asked me before or during the ride
"would I do it again" the answer would have been NO! I'm not a
natural cyclist I only do it to combat the coming of old age and to keep fit, I
would rather let somebody else do the hard things in life. However, this is one
47 year old that will be lining up in Guyancourt in 2003 to repeat the
"Ride of a Lifetime", but watch out, I want to do it on a recumbent
trike! |