It occurs to me you might be interested in the view from the driving seat, as it were. Future tours might look back here and see how we did it.
The route planning is crucial. To start with, Gordon and I spent hours – probably getting on for 40 hours each – looking at the maps, playing with Google maps and routing. In the beginning I used Google maps (set to walking) to join up the start and end points in a straight line. Then the route was dragged to the chain hotels in the bigger towns. Immediately there was a problem: should the first day end at Flers – a big town with lots of hotels – or Domfront, which was much smaller. If we had 50 riders as in Normandy last year Domfront might not have the accommodation we needed: a problem.
@dellzeqq said to use the flat cycle route at the end of the day to get to Domfront in spite of my worries that riders would have been awake all night on the boat and tired. The cycle route turned up quite late in the calculations, after I set the map to Bicycle. So the first night town was set: only on the recce did we realise that, in the rain and hail we had, the surface was sticky, muddy and might be a problem for narrow tyres. On the recce the decision was made that if it rained I’d just have to busk it on the Real Thing and if the surface was untenable I’d have to come up with an alternative route through the small lanes. No pressure, then. In the event, the cycle path was fine. Domfront hotel was fine: welcoming, a room for the bikes, parking for the van etc.
We made a point of riding the recce on the same days of the week as the Real Thing would be, so after Domfront it was a Sunday – no lorries, empty roads until about 11am. But we had to find food as on Sunday most shops are shut. Food had to be bought on the Saturday – thanks, Mark. The recce had found a supermarket open on the Sunday morning – great! On the Real Thing it was shut because the owners had gone on holiday. Visions of vegetarians going hungry as the rest of the group barbequed my body in Mayenne floated before my eyes. On Sunday morning I cleaned out the patisserie buying 10 baguettes in one go. Oo-la-la the lady said.
The recce found the road into Laval was busy and narrow: on the Real Thing Mark went forward in the van and did a quick look at the riverside cycle path and decided it was good: hence our arrival in Laval was better than on the Real Thing.
There’s no doubt the van made a huge difference: unsupported tours will lose time either doing the shopping for picnics or sitting in bistros, plus they carry luggage. The days for the recce party were longer by a few hours each day as we pondered routes, looked at maps and toiled up hills.
I shan’t bore you with all the details of every route choice, and when I was in the van
@redfalo did a splendid job of following the track laid down by the Recce: remember he often had no paper map, to boot. He certainly deserved that medal.
There were times when we were a bit short of time – for instance, at the transporter bridge after
@User had his tyre trouble and we lost time in
Decathlon looking at their woefully inadequate tyre selection, we made the last crossing before lunch. I briefed Olaf about getting into the wildlife sanctuary by not following the GPS track – the recce used a terrible cycle track that was merely disorganised rubble – and I went ahead and parked the van at the two crucial turning points. It wasn’t just coincidence that I was at those points.
The last day was “interesting”. The Fridays members are the sort of people who have a lie in, decent breakfast and look forward to a 10k ride and train journey followed by a civilised afternoon sightseeing in Bordeaux. The early group intended to ride all the way to Bordeaux and crossed the Gironde with me and set off in high spirits. I rode to the first railway station, which had grass growing over the rails. Not been used for some time, then. Then I rode to the next station. Couldn’t find it. Back to the first one, no one around. Back and ask a chap in his garden – get to the second one, found some working chaps in serious trousers, asked them, “no trains” was the reply. Back to the ferry. Send text to Mark. News passed to the group. They came off the ferry, took it all in their stride.
@User got changed behind a bush, and they set off on a 110k ride in a day promising 38 degrees of heat. A trip to the station in Soulac sur Mer confirmed the news. A trip to Lidl for food, and I set off to find them on the D2. One notable point I found is that fit, determined and unladen cyclists – especially on flat ground – move almost as fast as a car so my incompetence in following the satnav (absolutely invaluable for finding hotels in unknown cities) instructions across a ploughed field put me some distance behind them.
Once we met and they were fed, I met them once more Pauillac and said I was off to Bordeaux. The small cloud that had been on my horizon all week was now a big one: could we actually get the bikes in the van?
@dellzeqq had assured me if I took off the front wheels and kept the crossbars to 20 centimetres apart, it could be done. Plan B was for those that could not fit in the van to be dismantled, covered in bubblewrap and taken on the train. Would they be allowed on the train? This was seat-of-pants and thinking-on-your-feet stuff. Which is a posh way of saying I was bricking myself.
Anyway, I rocked up, Gladys at reception in the Ibis was as efficient and as welcoming as could be, and the early team arrived almost minutes after I did. Not only that, but they were full of beans and anxious to help. Wheels were off, bubblewrap produced, it all worked splendidly. And the arrival soon after of the later party was at least an hour earlier than expected. The tandem was also at its hotel and would be wanting its bags and tandem box so I rushed off to drop that off, only to discover that the satnav did not know several streets were now one-way, medieval and full of bollards and parked cars. Fortunately
@rvw brought some sense to the proceedings by standing in the road and talking me in like an air traffic controller. Then it was back to the Ibis to get the late group’s bikes in the van. Two bikes were locked together. Phone call. All in, all done. Shower. Phone in room rings. Folder not in van. I lean out of third floor window, push button on key. Van unlocks. Folder in van. Dress. Restaurant. Eat. 4am alarm. Still no 5.28am train. Luis on reception looks up website. Suddenly 6.30 train appears. This is a 3pm Caen arrival. Obvs the bikes must be ready, all rebuilt and working - and waiting, at the ferry, and taxis will be used to get to the ferry on time. Drive to Caen. Fall asleep while Mark drives. Rebuild bikes in the sun at the ferry. Talk to Brittany Ferries desk: there is talk of a delay of 15 minutes in embarkation closing for us until 4pm. Names are taken, booking references looked up and written down. Was this all to be trusted? Nope. Drive back to Caen. Fill up with fuel as you have to hand the van back with a full tank. Get stuck behind a wedding party – the procession stops, old ladies g_e_t o_u_t o_f t_h_e c_a_r_s v_e_r_y s_l_o_w_l_y. At this point tears of frustration are welling up. It’s 3pm. The van arrives at the station but there’s no parking. I hurtle round the corner and leave it on waste ground and run to the station. Hundreds of people are getting off that train. Foreigners are moving towards taxis -
our taxis. I run over and stand in the “wrong” place, telling the driver these seven people
have to get the ferry. My French language skills are being tested to destruction. Four in one taxi, three in the next. The
@Andrew Br party is told to stand there and looks bemused: they don’t know their bikes are in the van round the corner.
@Mice and new bike wants a taxi, not now staying that night in the Ouistreham hotel. There’s an estate car taxi down the road, it can’t get to us as the traffic is crossing in front of it. Run to it and stand, in a Dellzeqq manner, and stop the traffic, gesture the taxi through. It’s now 3.10pm and there’s a whole town to cross and nine miles of motorway to do in the next 20 minutes to ensure boarding. Failure means finding hotels for the night, rebooking ferries. Back of the car is up, I take his headrests out and fold the back seat down and the bike is in. “Doucement, doucement” the poor chap says. Mice is in, I shut the back door. The car goes. Suddenly, it’s all over.
Europcar office is full of people, a staff chap is walking to the van, I show him it is not damaged in any way at all and he doesn’t notice the scratch at handlebar height, he checks the fuel tank is full and looks it over. My fear of a huge bill for damage to the van dissipates. Phew. I’ve worried about it all week. This all very amicable. The keys are handed back. My phone beeps. It’s a text from Mark. Everyone is on the boat. It’s 3.44pm. We made it by one minute.
Andrew kindly gave me a wheel against the headwind on the ride back to the hotel in Ouistreham. I couldn’t keep up with him.
It’s now Wednesday and I’m not as tired as I was on Sunday.
What a fantastic week. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
