London to Paris Day 4

So this is the last part I think. It's strange, or rather endemic of my winter lethargy that it's just over three months since I got back. Three months. That's the time I trained for the ride. Could I do it again three months on? Maybe.
For reasons of departure we had to be in Paris for midday. This meant an early start. 6am to be precise.
It was dark at that time. Dark and cold. My optimistic clothing of short sleeved jersey and shorts were proven to be after about five minutes outside and I soon pulled a woolly long sleeve on over the top.

With six o'clock occurring we were on the road. The route took us out through woods and the cold really froze my head. I was having problems working out which junctions we were approaching. Them being dark meant that signs weren't visible until we were on them. A couple of stops were needed but the gaps between when we were cutting a silent swathe through the cold misty tree-lined landscape was wonderful.

The warm pool of light emanating from an open boulangerie as we came through a village was so welcoming. Pull up, lean the bikes up and get into the warmth. Three black coffees and two with milk please. Oh and a pile of pain au raisin. Merci. So welcome and wanted.

Au revoir and we're away into the night. It's half past seven and there's still no sun light. The road is opening up and the cooling mist is left back in the woods. Sunrise is supposed to be at 8am and sure enough the day breaks across the fields around us.

It doesn't get any warmer though. The countryside is still just that and there's no hint of our ever Southward journey finishing in Paris. Cars pass by with commuters heading to work on another Monday morning. We're just five guys riding. Just part of the tarmac scenery.
I feel satisfied. We're not there yet but the riding today is feeling good. We're gelling nicely and rolling along at a good pace. The early start means that although we think the day is still early hours the distance done is mounting up.
Satisfied, yes.

The villages come and go, the architecture old and worthy of the place. We rattle through. Multicoloured blurs of mechanism.

Another stop for cake and a chance to smile at pretty ladies serving. I love cake.
The next part is the crap part of the day. It was always going to be. We're onto a bit of dual carriageway and past Le Bourget airport. Pretty sure we were ok to cycle there. Pretty sure. Soon enough that part is gone and we're into the outskirts of Paris. With still fifteen miles to go the traffic is queueing. Is it going to be like this all the way? There's roadworks and for a brief moment I worry that we are going to be diverted and all the route planning will go out the window.
The feared diversion doesn't happen and we push on. Traffic lights mean finding something to lean on to save unclipping from the pedals. Whether this is each other, railings, cars or buses doesn't matter.

See that dome looming in the distance. That's not the Notre Dame. Although I thought it was.

Still a good looking building.
More pedalling.
Stop and have a look at the map. Hmm we're getting close. How about cutting through this road, that should bring us onto the Champs.
All of a sudden. Pow.

Well bugger me, we're only pedalling up the Champs Elysée. After a lap of the Arc we shoot back down and off George V avenue towards our destination of the Eiffel tower.
We can see it. It's useful having a finish point that's 300m tall.
We congregate beneath. It's just approaching midday. Somewhere near us should be the ladies.

Sure enough they appear moments after taking that photo.
Much hugs, kisses, smiles and eating is had. Then it's time to have some posed shots for the albums.
The much appreciated support ladies-

and the riders-

 And then that was it. Gordon got a puncture. The first and only of the trip. We fixed it and headed back to the van to get changed and load bikes up. Goodbyes were said and then it was over. We had done it and it was done.
Thanks.

London to Paris, day 3

Well. Day three. This time we were riding from our hotel just outside of Arras down to Thourotte near Compiegne. It was the North side of Compiegne meaning we had further to go on day four but let's not worry about that yet. The day wasn't off to a great start with our support driver Colleen having succumbed to a bug of some sort and being very ill. No one else was affected but it meant that the mood was pretty low for a start. Still, we had a day to do. I think that attitude really helped me all the way through; any problem would be overcome because we were going to cycle to Paris. That was the plan and that was what was going to happen. Mick took the lead from the off

and we were away.
The peloton was definitely more hushed today. As the day warmed up we cut through the countryside but talk was minimal. The route today passed through the Somme and soon we were seeing signs for the military cemeteries. Sure enough we came to a British memorial cemetery and stopped for some thoughts .

Immaculately kept amongst the rolling golds and dry greens of the surrounding fields, it certainly brought home the emotions.
I think this sums it up:

Time and thoughts passed and we had an update from Michelle on Colleen, still not well. Their plan now was to stay as long as possible in the Arras hotel and then press straight on to the Thourotte hotel. Kim was with us in her car but all our supplies including lunch, drinks etc. were in the van. We consulted maps and roadbooks to get a measure for how the day would pan out

and then time to pedal again.

The roads were still smooth and a pleasure to pedal on as our cranks turned. It was getting warmer and warmer though. Sunglasses were definitely a good move and I was glad of having shorts and not bibs on. The application of suncream first thing had also been a great idea! My poor ginger skin would have suffered otherwise. He he.

Our bellies were grumbling soon enough despite munching on whatever was stored in the jersey pockets, our route took us through Ham and sure enough we were seeing signs for Ham, and if that wasn't enough of a taunt there was also the town of Brie to contend with! Argh! Knowing that we didn't have our lunch to rely on due to the absence of the van we were happy to see Kim in a layby as twelve o'clock came and went. Thinking of how tough it was going to be to find a grocers or market open at lunchtime on a Sunday in France we asked if she could grab some bread, meat, cheese and milk for us and we would meet her in Ham. Kim took off like a scalded cat and we resumed pedalling. 

Passing a small town with a thermometer on the Pharmacy, we could see it was 30'C. That's quite warm. Plenty warm enough to be pedalling in on low supplies and an emptying belly. We had a call from Kim to say that there were no shops open, but that there was a market running in Ham, and there were food vendors. Result. So hungry right now.
After circling Ham and passing through the busy streets of traders and buyers we found Kim and shortly after found the first available food stall and began eating.

I can't describe how ready I was for mystery meat in a wrap. Once the first course was consumed we wandered through a little more and found another bar selling possibly the best chip butties ever; baguette with sausages and then chips on top.

Blooming lovely and so needed.
Off again, but not for too long as all the water and pop consumed at lunchtime had to make an exit again in short time.

As we were moving further South the countryside was changing. Although there were still plenty of fields, the built up areas were turning up quicker each time with less space between them.

Noyon was the last big town on our list before we got to our destination for the day, and once through it the countryside was a little greener, hinting at what we would experience the next day. It was getting harder though, no doubt about that. A day of riding in sun, with limited supplies really took its toll on me and as we approached the hotel I was pretty much spent for the day.

Tired.
Once at the hotel and sorted out we had a quick meeting in the foyer to talk through how Colleen was doing (getting better) and how we were going to approach tomorrow, the final day. With plans made and bellies rumbling we headed into town to get some grub.
Sunday night wasn't the ideal night to find somewhere to eat, especially in a small town. The pizzeria we had expected to find was missing, presumed closed. Luckily there was a small bar with a takeaway pizzeria attached. We got beers in and consulted the menu, wrote down our orders and presented it to the lady running the pizza ovens. The poor lady had a look of shock at the order for seven pizzas and three salads, as well as dealing with the normal clientele orders. Beers were drunk, and plenty of water in my case, and soon enough our table was awash with pizzas with silence descending as we dived in.

So good to eat! Jay, Aidan and myself had the largest pizzas and despite best efforts we still had a slice each remaining after our stints. Back to the hotel with pizza baby bellies. Kit was laid out for the next morning, food and drinks were prepared and alarms were set as it was going to be an early start...
Mileage for the day was 65
Route here

London to Paris, day 2

Now with extra edited goodness
The second day dawned too early and definitely too shakily for me. After scoffing breakfasts of crepes, cake, croissants, coffee, cereal and cyoghurt we headed to the outskirts of Calais to begin pedalling.

I don't know what was up with me; I suspect that I was just hungry and tired but I felt bloody awful for the morning. Thankfully I just had a tasty cup of MTFU and started pedalling. I'm not going to let my stupid body and mind get in the way of having a good time. After gobbling a date slice and some of Gordon's flapjack I started to feel better. The roads were good mainly, and navigation was easier as we kept to the same roads for most of the day. There were some great vistas opening up and it really felt like we were getting somewhere. That feeling of riding some place new and exciting. It was better even than finding a new trail or road close to home.

There were some really lovely climbs through almost switchback bends, which then turned into cracking descents along similar bends. I'm going to admit it. I love climbing. It's hard, it makes the heart race, it hurts, it strains and you get to the top and it's just bleeding fantastic.

Then you get the rush down the other side. And what rushes they were. The roads were our tarmac roller coaster as we scythed through smooth bends chevroned with warnings that were gently heeded, as our caliper brakes weren't going to heed them any more than that even if we wished.

There's something great about doing 45/50mph with tyres less than an inch wide underneath you, every movement is amplified. The corners were taken by picking the entry point, setting the speed and then, for me anyway, turning in and just sitting my elbow onto my protruding knee on the inner side to keep the bars composed as the bike tipped in.It felt so lovely and fluid. Whether it appeared graceful I know not but it certainly felt it.

The roads started to become tree lined, and passing alongside the trees as they cut through the fields was very timeless.

The feeling in the group was good, and the mood was that of being content with the weather and the route. We met up with support group again for lunch, and all sat around in the car park of a small supermarket to eat our baguettes, cheese, meat and ice creams.

Post-lunch and feeling satiated things were even better, and smiles were never far away.

We even had a few sprints to brighten up the afternoon. Jay and I had swapped bikes at this point and I just pipped him.

Soon the signs began to reveal that we were getting quite close to our chosen stop for the night. The climbs were more frequent also as the road rose and fell across the plains.

The road, although it was straight, really did seem to peak and trough through the countryside and there were a couple of real doozies of climbs that seemed to go on for a very long time.

How we Fenland boys managed without getting vertigo, I don't know.
Whilst the scenery was mainly arable fields, there was the occasional interesting landmark crop up that caught the eye. I wonder who decided to paint the water tower here?

We met up with the support crew just outside of Arras and with a little direction got into our hotel. That evening we headed into town for a slap up meal and for me a culinary first in trying chicken gizzards in a salad. Very tasty.
Distance for the day was around 70 miles
Route here

London to Paris, day one

Just home from a good ride with some good fellows.
Ages ago Jay had the idea of riding from London to Paris. Plans were talked about, emails flew back and forth and training was planned and undertaken. In what seemed like no time at all the date was upon us and we were assembling at the Cutty Sark in London to set off.

Then, we were away.
Roadbooks had been put together for each day, and a map was stuffed in my back pocket with the route marked on, but it was still only about half an hour before we missed the (truthfully unmarked) exit from the A2 onto the A207, so with a bit of jiggery we found another route and were soon off and out of London, over the M25 and clear of the debris that seemed to flick into eyes as we pedalled along.
The route paralleled the A2 mostly, and joined it along some of the quieter single carriageway sections. Our support crew were in a van and car and we were ahead of them for most of the way out of London, the joys of two wheels over four. Arrangements were made to meet in Sittingbourne for lunch and after negotiating the market taking up most of the parking spaces for the support vehicles we were soon sat outside a cafe eating some grub. Post lunch we pressed on, fuelled by chips and other tasty carbs not used on le Tour.
Close to Faversham and the Shepherd Neame brewery we rolled along single track back roads and took in the smell of the hop gardens being harvested on one side and the orchards bulging with apples on the other. Through Faversham and resisting stopping at a pub to sample the local brew we pressed on.
Canterbury was negotiated after a bit of local advice and we were back out into the open again. The roads now were climbing and falling and it was easy to tell that we were expending energy.

I was starting to feel in need of something to eat and drink. I probably should have had a bigger all day breakfast at lunch time...

It went a little wrong after this, when we came sailing down a freshly gravelled road through some S bends that had us all feeling a little sketchy with negotiating them at the speeds we were travelling! Safely through we met up with the support crew for an update.
On from there and we missed a turning, though this wasn't apparent until several miles down the ride.
Bugger.
After some map reviewing a re-route was worked and we were back on it. This meant a lot of climbing, which after almost 70 miles was a bit of a shit. There was much cursing, some of it under breaths, most of it not.
Time dragged as we wended along back roads cross country, dodging strimmed hawthorn cuttings which littered the road threatening punctures, and tractors sat on our tails as we kept single file down the narrow routes. Finally we were in Lydden and back on track.
Down towards Dover and mood and momentum were lifted. The skies became bluer, and the going was smoother.
Then, the sign we had been waiting for.

We were in Dover.
Support crew were located and after refuelling the vehicles and ourselves on a BP forecourt we loaded up and headed to port.
The crossing was millpond smooth and we savoured the moment with nutritional beverages.

Then, disembarking and a trip to our lodgings for the night; the youth hostel to find the rooms then dash into Calais town centre to find something to eat.
Time was now 10pm local, and hunger was very present. A rather tasty Moroccan/Mediterranean restaurant served us but it was too late for Mick, who pulled a spectacular whitey after eating and had a few minutes face down on the table recovering. He wouldn't be the last to suffer on the trip.
Still within 5 minutes he was back to his normal self and after settling up we walked back to the beds. The next day we were riding in France.
Mileage for the day was around 85.
Route here