frank9755
Cyclist
- Location
- West London
A. PROLOGUE
1. Riding out
Leaving London on Wednesday afternoon (17th August) with a full load of camping gear, my audax bike felt very different as I wobbled down my road. I did a lap round the block, debating whether to dump half of my things but decided that I would get used to it and pressed on.
Recalling that PBP begins with a 220km ride before the first control, I decided to ride the 70-ish miles to Newhaven without stopping, only putting a foot down at traffic lights or junctions.
The group coalesced between the car park at Sainsbury’s in Newhaven and the queue to get on the ferry. I met Tom, who I knew from having ridden a couple of his events in East Anglia, Jonathan and Emma on a smart tandem, George, visiting from Australia (and with a handlebar moustache and gap in his teeth which made me think of Terry Thomas), Brian, Andy, Julian, Alison and finally Steve / Teethgrinder – who has probably ridden as many miles as anyone in the UK over the last decade.
We had a comfortable night on the ferry and a jolly ride down, spread over two days of fine weather. I enjoyed this, getting to know the others better, getting into the spirit of cycling in France and acclimatising.
Tom, Steve, George and Brian had all done PBP one or more times before and I used the opportunity to get lots of tips and advice from them. I soaked up tips which were to prove useful to me, such as:
- Danish cyclists in particular tend to ride in their own groups (‘Dane Trains’) and are generally skilful cyclists
- There can be long queues for food at early controls until the ride spreads out
- The route through Brest goes on for a long way
Near to our tents we spotted a yellow velomobile. Chatting to the German owner, he told us that he was aiming to get round in 45 hours and that he regularly topped 100km/h using his top gear of over 160 inches (72x11 with 26” wheels)
2. Music and fireworks, thunder and lightening
On the Saturday night there was a concert at the roundabout where PBP starts and finishes, followed by a wonderful firework display. As we rode back to the campsite, a big thunderstorm kicked off.Although we escaped a soaking, the high humidity and flashes and bangs long into the night disturbed our sleep. I knew I would be starting the ride short of sleep and regretted not having kept the hotel room.
3. My approach
As this was my first PBP and first ride of more than 600km, there was too much uncertainty for me to think it was worthwhile having a detailed plan covering things like where and for how long I would stop and sleep. However I did have a few principles I would use to shape my ride.
- Do the fastest time I was able to. I didn’t have a target and, while I would be happy to get round in the 90 hours, I would be even happier if I could do it in under 80.
- Keep up my momentum. On a long ride this is most important to me. I decided I would make only the shortest stops and only when I absolutely needed to. This meant I rarely put a foot down between controls and carried food with me from the start so I could avoid the long queues which I expected to find at the first controls and get through quickly. I wore more layers but used zips, hat and riding speed to regulate my temperature and, if necessary, put up with being a bit too hot or cold until the next control rather than stop. I would only ride, eat and sleep – nothing else.Conversation with other riders was most welcome but only when it can be combined with riding or eating.
- Eat lots to keep my energy levels high: big meals and always carrying some snacks on the bike.
- Ride when I feel good and sleep when I am tired.
- Co-operate with others, not compete. Mainly this involved drafting whenever I could find a suitable wheel to follow and re-paying by taking my turn at the front – but not over-doing it.
- Being only a modest climber but a passable time triallist, I would adopt my usual approach of allowing myself to drop down the group on the climbs but work the descents to keep in touch.
1. The start
On Sunday afternoon I headed out to the start with Andy. We were queuing from around 4:30pm until our start at 7:40, mostly in hot sun and it was good to have a partner to talk to and hold bikes while we went to find essentials such as water and toilets. We chatted with other riders in the queue and the time passed quickly.
Queuing up before the start
2. Catching the Dane Train
As we moved up to our start I noticed that there were several Danish riders in our group. I said to Andy “I’m going to stick behind them.” We set off, the Danish peloton formed at the front of the group and, along with a lone Dutch rider, a couple of Germans and a few Americans, Japanese and various others, I rode along behind them for almost a hundred miles.
I noticed that several riders were a bit erratic, pedalling furiously then freewheeling, then standing up for no particular reason. I sought out the steadier wheels to follow – which were mostly Danish, German or Dutch.
The start was fast – adrenaline powering us along smooth, flat, closed roads. In every village there were people out applauding us, cheering us on and, importantly given the heat, re-filling our water bottles. I drunk six bottles that evening as we powered on, overtaking dozens of slower riders from earlier starting groups.
At the top of a sharp climb in the heat on the first evening
After one re-fill stop I lost my group and tried to sprint to get back on. An American rider then passed me at high speed and we two-upped, then picked up two more riders. Riding through-and-off, we easily moved back up through our group and out to the front. But as I was about to pull over after a hard turn at the front, my American partner bolted forward. The other two tried to chase him but couldn’t and our group collapsed. I then had the first of perhaps half a dozen such conversations I as to have over the course of the ride on the poor riding skills of most of the field: the erratic wheels, inability to work together to go faster and pointless attacks.
As the first night wore on I decided that it was safer to stay out of large groups of tiring cyclists and rode more on my own. I was now getting passed by others and, as dawn broke, realised I was getting very tired. Had it not been raining, I would have stopped for a nap. But all the bus shelters were taken so I pressed on. From my night riding experience, I knew that the wave of tiredness would pass. It did and I continued but at a moderate pace
3. Power napping
Eventually the sun came out, the grass dried and I started to see lots of cyclists sleeping along the route. Feeling I would benefit from half an hour, I pulled into the grassy entrance to a field. I lay down with my head on my saddlebag and the thought entered my head that a tractor could turn into the field and run me over. Right on cue, I heard one coming, and scrambled up just in time for it to pull in and start dusting the field down with what looked like lime. I found a better place to sleep on the edge of a wood a mile or so down the road and, when I got going again, felt much stronger from the rest – once more overtaking more people than were passing me.
Passing through a village in Brittany just after lunch
4. Brest or sleep…?
The weather stayed pleasant into the evening. For a bit of fun, I was tracking to see how many miles I would cover in the first 24 hours. I got to 308, which was a record for me. This split between 184 in the first 12 hours and just 124 in the second – when there were far more stops.
I started to think I could make it all the way to Brest that night and that, if I could, I might be able to do a fast time. I reached Carhaix, the penultimate control, at 9pm and it was still daylight so it was possible to do it, and most of the group I was riding with seemed to be pressing on. But the ride toBrest would be a hard stage involving the biggest climb of the whole route – the 330m Roc Trevezel. It was also a long stage – almost 100km. I was feeling sore – saddle sores but also feet and shoulders.As I deliberated, I looked up at the sky and it looked full of rain. So I opted for a hot shower and booked myself a camp bed in the hall. Given I’d had a hard day, covering 328 miles (500km) and with a poor sleep the night before, I decided I would allow myself six hours, rather than the 2-4 that most riders were limiting themselves to.
On the second evening, heading for my half-way stop at Carhaix
While showering, I started to think how my ride might shape out. I started to think of aiming for 400km the following day (Tuesday) leaving me 300km for the Wednesday and a finish some time in the early hours of Thursday. If things went well, I felt I still had a chance of beating 80 hours.
DAY 2 - THE LONGEST DAY
1. Over the Roc to Brest
Back on the road at 4:45 the next morning, fully rested and fresh, I realised what a good decision it had been to stop. It was a mild but wet and misty morning and the roads were very wet. As I climbed, I saw lots of riders lying under space blankets but on wet grass – those who had tried to reach Brest and failed enduring a miserable night.
Someone shouted my name and I saw Tom. He’d also stopped at Carhaix and we rode together. His company was a big lift for a couple of hours up the big climb. We chatted about things, like the woeful standard of lots of the riding, the extravagant outfits of, especially, the Italian riders (with one in an all white outfit, including overshoes, riding nearby) until he stopped for a mid-stage break and I pushed on.
When I got to Brest after 4 hours I realised that those who had pressed on last night had ridden through a bad thunderstorm. Two phrases mentioned more than once were ‘biblical proportions’ and ‘the heaviest rain I have ever ridden in…couldn’t see the road’. Those who made it through that had taken six hours.
2. ‘I think I can do that’
Leaving Brest just after 9am, I met a young French rider. Only 23, he was on his second PBP and told me he was aiming for a time of 65 hours. Having started on Monday morning he had reached Brest on only a couple of hours sleep. We rode together for a couple of hours. He was low on energy and welcomed the chance to ride with someone who was fresher and I enjoyed riding with someone with a steady wheel and consistent speed.
He explained his strategy to me which was to get back with only a couple of naps to arrive by 10pm on Wednesday night and hit his target. I thought about it. I was much fresher than him having had a full night’s sleep. I asked myself, could I do that, too? I thought about it. It would mean riding the remaining 443 miles (700km) from Carhaix to Brest and back to Paris in a long, 36-hour day: nine stages – the equivalent of nine club runs – one after the other. But I was already into stage 2 with over 100km done and feeling fresher all the time. ‘I think I can do that’ I said to myself, and decided I was going to try.
I worked out that if I could finish by 5:40pm on Wednesday afternoon I would be below 70 hours. This would be almost a day ahead of the limit and something I could feel really good about. It was now my target. I knew that all I had to do was ride at my benchmark audax pace of 20 km/h or 12.5 mph (including stops) for the 36 hours, and eat as much food as possible to keep my energy up.
Back at Carhaix, I shook hands with my young friend, and we wished each other good luck as I went off to eat a big plate of food in the control and he sought out his support crew.
3. Spinning through Brittany
I started the next stage, which was a fairly hilly one through Brittany, gently, digesting my meal and playing myself in for another long innings. I was being passed by other riders on the climbs, but would generally overtake them on the descents. It struck me that very few others seemed to bother pushing downhill with many freewheeling down, perhaps to rest before the next climb.
Watching a German cyclist pass me at a high cadence, I realised that I had got a bit lazy about changing into my small ring to climb. I decided I’d make a point of changing down and upping my cadence. I found myself climbing much more quickly and was now overtaking lots of others, both on the uphills as well as downhill sections. I overtook a triplet ridden by three German brothers. The previous day this had swept past me and I had not been able to stay in touch.
I really gained speed and reached the next control at Loudeac in just three and a quarter hours – well above my expected riding speed. The only bike that had overtaken me was a tandem ridden by two UK riders – Aiden from VC167 and his partner Hugh. I hadn't been able to get on their wheel as it was on a sharp hill and they climb very well.
Loudeac was my favourite control with the evident enthusiasm of the locals running it giving me a real lift. I went into the restaurant to eat another big three-course meal and was very pleased to see Jonathan and Emma. I chatted to them until they left, exchanging stories of weather and other experiences.
4. Why don’t Italians pedal downhill?
On my next stage I once again started slowly. After half an hour a group of four Italian riders passed me and I decided to tuck in behind. It went well for a while but I was finding it hard work on the climbs and was having to brake to stay behind them on the descents as they freewheeled down, chattering away, before grinding up the next hill in something like 39/23. I decided this was hard work and, on the next climb, I let them go. I spun to the top a few hundred yards behind them, then pedalled hard on the descent and caught them on the next climb, my momentum carrying me past them at twice their speed. Pleased to have re-discovered my own style, I left them in the distance.
5. Drafting with tandems
I was now on the flattest section of the ride. Happily there was a tailwind and I was able to float along riding on my drops at over 20mph for mile after mile. I had done almost 200 miles that day but felt really good and each stage was going better than the previous one. I was wondering what could possibly be better?
Just then, Aiden and Hugh passed me again, with a couple of solos in tow. This time I was able to get onto the back, and my speed upped to 25mph plus as they led us on a furious chase. After a few miles, we passed Jonathan and Emma on their tandem and they joined in, helping to up the speed a couple of notches! Drafting behind two top UK audax tandem crews was one of the highlights for me as we flew past other groups of riders (some of whom I recognised as having passed me earlier) and got big cheers from the spectators. All of my aches and pains disappeared as I focused only on staying on.
At the next control it was getting dark. I thanked Jonathan and Emma for the tow and they said they were going to stop for the night. It was a logical place, with about 340km done for the day and 360km to go. I said I was still feeling strong and so was going to press on to the next control. Jonathan looked at me and said ‘You’re going all the way to Paris aren’t you?’ I said I would keep going while I felt good.
6. Drafting with recumbents
It was a shame to leave the control into the dark night. There were far fewer riders on the road with many having opted for sleep. I passed a few, then saw torches ahead. It was a couple of locals who had decided to spend their night guiding riders across a main road junction. I crossed, thanked them and continued.
Towards the end of the stage a fast recumbent passed me. I noticed it had quite large wheels and the rider was high enough off the ground for me to draft behind him, if I got low on the drops. I did, and upped my speed a fair bit. I then did my turn on the front but it was clear that the German rider was not used to drafting and he rode diagonally behind me, so I let him go in front again.
Riding into the next control (Fougeres) at about half past midnight, I recognised Julian’s bright yellow gloves. He said he was stopping for the night. Again, this was a logical place with nearly 400km done for the day and 309km to do the next day. Resting here would have been my earlier plan but, still feeling good, I sought out another three-course meal, ate it and pressed on into the night. A few sums confirmed that, as I left at 1:15am, I was still on track: 309 km in 15.5 hours would have me finishing just before 5pm.
7. A long, dark night
This was to prove a long, dark stage through the dense forests of Normandy on a cloudy, moonless night. I took it slowly out of town and several riders passed me. Just before the top of an incline, I jumped onto the back wheel of one. For some reason, this irritated him and he accelerated and tried to shake me off. But we were now at the start of a long, gentle descent and ‘bang, bang, bang; click, click, click’ and I was now past him and speeding along in a high gear and didn’t see him again.
I kept my speed, and my spirits, up on the flat sections. But later, there were some big climbs to be done and the descents had to be taken more carefully. The stage seemed to be taking forever. My average speed dropped and I took nearly 5 long hours to do the 88km to the next control. Doing some sums while I ate I worked out that, leaving at 6:40am, I now had exactly 11 hours to do the 221 km to hit my sub-70 hour target. It was still possible if I could get back to 20km/h average but I’d lost all of my time buffer on that tough night stage.
The other notable thing that happened on this stage was that, for the only time in the entire ride, I was overtaken on a descent – by a French rider
8. Making up time with the 80-hour riders
I had a big lift on starting the next stage from seeing the sky starting to get light. A second big lift came from realising that I was descending from a plateau so could expect several high-speed miles. I got into a group following a German and a Belgian cyclist. The German was big and strong and my speed rose following him. I noticed that these were steadier wheels to follow and realised from their numbers that they were 80-hour starters.
On a downhill section I did my turn, with the German rider drafting me closely. He then left me on the next climb. However, I caught him again on a later descent. We then picked up a French rider then a Spanish rider and worked well together as a four across the rolling countryside. I would make sure I started my turn on a descent. I had to freewheel a bit to check the others were on, but I could then use my momentum to carry us half way up the next hill, before handing over to someone else.
After a while I realised that we had dropped the strong German rider. Then the Frenchman disappeared too. I took care to keep the Spanish rider with me, easing off on a long, slow climb, to make sure he could continue to help me. Eventually, though, there was a long, steep climb and I shouted thanks and waved him on.
A few miles further on, I managed to get another two-up partner for a flat section of several miles which we did at 20-25mph. This had been a great stage for me – one of my fastest of the whole ride and I reached the next control 45 minutes ahead of schedule.
9. Who put all those hills there?
I knew that the route would get hillier as I approached Paris and that this would slow me down.Immediately after the next control, at Mortagne, I was into a series of about half a dozen significant hills.They seemed much bigger than they had done on the way out, and my speed feel significantly. After two hours I had only done 20 miles, so my new buffer was slipping away.
I had a near-disaster in one town. Trying to get past a group of Italians who were good climbers but slow between hills, one of them lurched suddenly to the left to avoid a manhole cover just as I overtook him.As his front wheel came within inches of mine, and I had visions of a tumble and a broken collar bone, I cried out a warning. ‘Mi scusi’ he replied, sheepishly.
10. The AUK train
Eventually the hills stopped and we were into beautiful meadowland with a gentle downward slope. I raced on, on my own, for mile after mile, keeping my speed above 20mph. Eventually I found a partner, but he was reluctant to work with me. Without a common language we couldn’t communicate but he hung back from my wheel then attacked hard when in front to leave me. I was now feeling tired and decided to let him go.
A group of three past me and I made no attempt to get on their wheel. I felt that I’d made up the time I’d lost on the big hills and so I was now happy to just keep my speed ticking over above 12 mph. Then another group passed me. I saw an Audax England shirt at the front, and a couple of UK club shirts following. I was going to let it go, but the riders kept coming – there must have been about 20. Even though I was tired, this was too good to miss and I had time to get my speed up and just scrambled onto the back. With the continuing tailwind and steady downhill, this peloton was moving at 25-30mph. I wanted to stay on as I knew it would halve the time it would take me to the next control. But the last couple of riders in front of me were a bit erratic, alternating between sprinting and freewheeling and often coming out of the line, making it much harder work to stay on than, say, following the tandems the previous day.
After a couple of miles I had to drop off. I realised that I was now seriously tired. As I limped into the last control I felt both my feet go numb and my legs were heavy.
11. Digging deep for the last stage
In the last control I knew I badly needed to refuel. I found myself a big plate of lasagne, a banana, a pains aux raisin and a can of coke.
I got back on the bike, then got off it after a hundred yards to try to massage my feet back to life. I freewheeled down a bumpy road, turned a corner and had to do a sharp climb. My legs would not get going: in bottom gear I could just turn the pedals round. My thumbs were also numb and saddle sores were biting, as about a dozen riders passed me within a hundred yards.
With four hours in had to knock off the final 65km, I realised that, if I could get going, I only needed to do 10mph to make my 5:40pm target. But if it was a hilly stage, I was going to struggle and might need to rest up. There were a couple more gentle hills to be endured, then a descent and a long, flat section.This allowed me to do the first 10 miles in about an hour and I was on track. I gradually got stronger and picked up speed from there and although there were more hills, fewer people were overtaking me.
On one of the final, steep climbs, my young French friend from Brest passed me and said ‘Hello again’. I could only manage a grunt in reply but was very happy for him as he looked on track for a sub-60 hour time – 5 hours better than his target.
12. The finish
The roads flattened out towards the finish. I found myself in a line with four others, who seemed to be looking for a sprint. Feeling better, I thought that might be fun so I hung on to them as best I could for a few miles. However, there were several red lights. At one set, while the others waited 10 cars back, I deployed my London commuting skills, weaved my way to the front, did a track-stand, got away sharply and didn’t see them again.
I expected there would be a good crowd at the finish so decided I would make sure they had something to cheer. I zipped up my jersey, got onto the drops and picked up speed so that I hit the final roundabout at 20mph, and enjoyed the applause as I guided the bike into the tunnel.
My time was 69 hours and 2 minutes – far better than I had ever expected beforehand. I was helped by good conditions but needed to be willing to try to ride as hard as I could for 443 miles in 36 hours without stopping apart from at the controls. It was not only my longest, but also my best ever, day of cycling. It had everything, from cheering crowds to challenging climbs and high-speed descents, drafting fast tandems and trains of solos, riding with friends and with strangers. I didn’t get tired so I kept going. My only error was to let my food intake drop towards the end and, while this probably cost me an hour, I was already close enough by then that it didn’t matter.
D. EPILOGUE
The bad thing about finishing so much earlier than I expected was that there was no-one I knew in the hall to welcome me in as virtually all my friends (apart from Rimas who had finished in the early hours and was probably sleeping) were all still riding. So, feeling zonked, I left, showered, ate and was asleep by 7pm.
The good thing was that I was well-rested to go back and watch others finish the next day. Tom, who had finished overnight, and I headed back in to cheer people home and enjoy a few drinks. I cheered in Els and was then chatting to her in the hall when I turned round and was delighted to see two members of my club (Westerley): Eddie and Dave, who’d ridden down from Dieppe, not to support me but to see Els finish! We all headed off to a local bar for a few drinks.
Back at the presentations I met Rimas and joined him in doing full justice to the closing buffet, before heading off for a few more drinks at another bar in town. Kindly, but unnecessarily, a Breton we got into conversation with paid our bar bill.
Andy and I had a final adventure as train problems meant we had to get off at La Defense and ride into town with me in danger of missing my Eurostar. Our first challenge was to find a road in that concrete jungle. The second was to avoid being swept onto the A14 motorway and the third to head the right way to get into Paris. With persistence, we managed, and sped up the Avenue de la Grande Armee, round the Arc de Triomphe and down the Champs Elysee and on. I just made my train and got home for a wonderful sleep.
Pass me another beer someone... 
