FNRttC The Fridays Tour 2023: London-Paris-London, June 16-24
- Thread starter StuAff
- Start date
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OP
OP
StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Day Seven: Arras to Calais
Andrew was designated ride leader for today, and doing things in his own, slightly different way, sent out a briefing message. The start time was moved forward to 7.45, and he ever so slightly altered the start point as well. The B&B breakfast was excellent, and I set off on the mostly-easy peasy route to the Grand Place (well, the Place des Héros right next door)…at 7.38. Oops. And did I get all green lights? Nope. You can guess how well that worked out. Sorry Andrew. More like 7.55 when I rolled up, and we went pretty much immediately. I was trying to get the faffing out of the way first, OK?
There wasn’t much climbing on this route, but what there was was nearly all in the first 10 miles, as we went to the high point of the ride, and a very evocative first stop, Vimy Ridge. The name will be familiar to anyone with a smattering of World War One knowledge. The ridge is just over 4 miles long, and reaches 476 ft in height. With an unobstructed view for miles around, it was a vitally important strategic position, and German forces had held it almost continuously since the early stages of the war. Moroccan troops had briefly captured the ridge in 1915, but were unable to hold it without reinforcements that never came, an all too easy target for the enemy, and forced to withdraw (they have their own memorial on the site).
In April 1917, the wider Battle of Arras was raging. All four of the Canadian divisions created to fight in Europe were tasked with capturing the ridge, serving together for the first time. British artillery was there in a supporting role, with more troops as reserve, who were brought in as the battle continued, but principally, this was fought, won, and suffered, by Canadians. There were around 10,000 Canadian casualties, including 3,598 dead, in four days. German losses are unknown but estimates range from 20,000 casualties to over 80,000. It was seen as a nation-defining moment in Canada, and the site became the largest Canadian overseas war memorial. 100 hectares of the former battlefield site (still largely closed off for safety, as there are numerous trenches & tunnels, let alone unexploded munitions), with the centrepiece monument an astonishing piece of sculpture. I’ve been to a few such places before- the Menin Gate in Ypres, cemeteries in Normandy, a wreath-laying at the Arc, Terezin (aka Theresienstadt)…they never fail to raise a tear. And they always should.
After that sombre moment, on we pressed. I had my first and only mechanical of the tour. As I’ve often done in the past, I’d strapped wet items to the rack to (hopefully) dry out- can’t remember if it was the shoes or laundry. I was using the long and robust strap that came with the Tern rack I’ve fitted to my folder (if Ortlieb did bungee cords…). All of a sudden there was assorted alarming clunks and bangs and somewhat impeded forward progress. I pulled in sharpish and had a look. One of the hooks had made a bid for freedom and caught on one of the spokes. The cord had managed to catch on the non-drive side of the hub, next to the disc rotor, and wrap itself three or four times around the hub. It couldn’t be freed without taking the wheel out, which I did with Jim’s help. Cord out, wheel back in, washing & cord in pannier. Phew! Tim had a bigger problem. Despite having thoroughly serviced the bike pre-tour, he was having drivetrain issues, which led him to go for the nearest Decathlon, and he’d end up taking the train to Calais. Mind you, then there was the massive bolt that somehow punctured Bob’s rear tyre…
Below: Yup, that'll be the puncture right there. Pic from Ross
Much of today’s route, starting at about 25 miles, was on canal paths, and the quality (again) varied dramatically from excellent to sketchy (and stronger language….). At the 37 mile market, there was the usual supermarket stop. There were more Di2 issues- a couple more recalibrations on a couple of bikes since that one on the first day, but this was worse- rear derailleur was only shifting between five or six gears. Not good, and a fix was beyond collective knowledge. 20 minutes or so later, we pressed on. And on. And on…This was a big day, with a lot of miles to cover, and an arranged celebratory dinner in Calais to make, but our lunch stop couldn’t come soon enough. There were vocal and stomach grumblings- as a fictional TV policeman might have put it, ‘We’re the Fridays, son, and we haven’t had our pain chasseur’. More than a few of us looked longingly at the eating opportunities we were passing. But eventually, we got to Saint-Omer, and a boulangerie (sizeable, with seating in and out) which was next door to a Carrefour. I just sat on a wall and ate what I’d bought earlier on, borrowing a fork from Martin as there wasn’t one in the salad box. 45 minutes later, we were on our way again.
A few miles later, Andrew provided one of those near-mandatory ride leader navigation errors (I’ve been there, done that, will do it again), quickly rectified. After twenty miles of roads- some busy, others more quiet than a mouse in a silent monastic order- we were back on canals for the last ten miles of the run into Calais. Our end/meeting point was the suitably hard-to-miss lighthouse, the Phare de Calais. From there, on with Iain and Peter to our hotel, the Ibis Calais Car Ferry. Sadly, about the only Ibis in the chain that doesn’t seem to do an an early breakfast from 4.30, so that meant I’d be doing the boulangerie run or eating on the ferry. First floor room as well (sigh). And the power cube with USB charging didn’t work- but then I had my own charger. 85 miles done since this morning.
But I had a dinner date to make. 7.15 for 7.30 at restaurant La Buissoniere. More faffing meant I cut it a bit fine and I was the last there, at about 7.45, to ironic cheers (I’m not making a habit out of this…). We’d paid (subsidised by club funds) and selected the food already. Following the welcome drink, a fruit punch for me, my starter was a strawberry and goats cheese tart- sounds like it shouldn’t work, did in practice. Main was a ham and poultry roulade- excellent. For dessert, a mousse with chocolate, caramel & peanuts- sort of like a melted-down Snickers bar, but posher- I’m sure they didn’t just buy bars! And very nice it all was too. There wasn’t just food and drink of course, we’d all chipped in with a small gift for our ride leaders (ass saver mudguards), and there was much banter about the adventures we’d had. Martin’s birthday was also celebrated. Then, Calvados was mentioned. Tim was gently persuaded to pay for that out of club funds. Santé!
Cheers! Pic from Helen
That done, some went for a quick(ish) drink, I went back to the hotel, and an early(ish) night, we were meeting at the Phare at 6.15…
Andrew was designated ride leader for today, and doing things in his own, slightly different way, sent out a briefing message. The start time was moved forward to 7.45, and he ever so slightly altered the start point as well. The B&B breakfast was excellent, and I set off on the mostly-easy peasy route to the Grand Place (well, the Place des Héros right next door)…at 7.38. Oops. And did I get all green lights? Nope. You can guess how well that worked out. Sorry Andrew. More like 7.55 when I rolled up, and we went pretty much immediately. I was trying to get the faffing out of the way first, OK?
There wasn’t much climbing on this route, but what there was was nearly all in the first 10 miles, as we went to the high point of the ride, and a very evocative first stop, Vimy Ridge. The name will be familiar to anyone with a smattering of World War One knowledge. The ridge is just over 4 miles long, and reaches 476 ft in height. With an unobstructed view for miles around, it was a vitally important strategic position, and German forces had held it almost continuously since the early stages of the war. Moroccan troops had briefly captured the ridge in 1915, but were unable to hold it without reinforcements that never came, an all too easy target for the enemy, and forced to withdraw (they have their own memorial on the site).
In April 1917, the wider Battle of Arras was raging. All four of the Canadian divisions created to fight in Europe were tasked with capturing the ridge, serving together for the first time. British artillery was there in a supporting role, with more troops as reserve, who were brought in as the battle continued, but principally, this was fought, won, and suffered, by Canadians. There were around 10,000 Canadian casualties, including 3,598 dead, in four days. German losses are unknown but estimates range from 20,000 casualties to over 80,000. It was seen as a nation-defining moment in Canada, and the site became the largest Canadian overseas war memorial. 100 hectares of the former battlefield site (still largely closed off for safety, as there are numerous trenches & tunnels, let alone unexploded munitions), with the centrepiece monument an astonishing piece of sculpture. I’ve been to a few such places before- the Menin Gate in Ypres, cemeteries in Normandy, a wreath-laying at the Arc, Terezin (aka Theresienstadt)…they never fail to raise a tear. And they always should.
After that sombre moment, on we pressed. I had my first and only mechanical of the tour. As I’ve often done in the past, I’d strapped wet items to the rack to (hopefully) dry out- can’t remember if it was the shoes or laundry. I was using the long and robust strap that came with the Tern rack I’ve fitted to my folder (if Ortlieb did bungee cords…). All of a sudden there was assorted alarming clunks and bangs and somewhat impeded forward progress. I pulled in sharpish and had a look. One of the hooks had made a bid for freedom and caught on one of the spokes. The cord had managed to catch on the non-drive side of the hub, next to the disc rotor, and wrap itself three or four times around the hub. It couldn’t be freed without taking the wheel out, which I did with Jim’s help. Cord out, wheel back in, washing & cord in pannier. Phew! Tim had a bigger problem. Despite having thoroughly serviced the bike pre-tour, he was having drivetrain issues, which led him to go for the nearest Decathlon, and he’d end up taking the train to Calais. Mind you, then there was the massive bolt that somehow punctured Bob’s rear tyre…
Below: Yup, that'll be the puncture right there. Pic from Ross
Much of today’s route, starting at about 25 miles, was on canal paths, and the quality (again) varied dramatically from excellent to sketchy (and stronger language….). At the 37 mile market, there was the usual supermarket stop. There were more Di2 issues- a couple more recalibrations on a couple of bikes since that one on the first day, but this was worse- rear derailleur was only shifting between five or six gears. Not good, and a fix was beyond collective knowledge. 20 minutes or so later, we pressed on. And on. And on…This was a big day, with a lot of miles to cover, and an arranged celebratory dinner in Calais to make, but our lunch stop couldn’t come soon enough. There were vocal and stomach grumblings- as a fictional TV policeman might have put it, ‘We’re the Fridays, son, and we haven’t had our pain chasseur’. More than a few of us looked longingly at the eating opportunities we were passing. But eventually, we got to Saint-Omer, and a boulangerie (sizeable, with seating in and out) which was next door to a Carrefour. I just sat on a wall and ate what I’d bought earlier on, borrowing a fork from Martin as there wasn’t one in the salad box. 45 minutes later, we were on our way again.
A few miles later, Andrew provided one of those near-mandatory ride leader navigation errors (I’ve been there, done that, will do it again), quickly rectified. After twenty miles of roads- some busy, others more quiet than a mouse in a silent monastic order- we were back on canals for the last ten miles of the run into Calais. Our end/meeting point was the suitably hard-to-miss lighthouse, the Phare de Calais. From there, on with Iain and Peter to our hotel, the Ibis Calais Car Ferry. Sadly, about the only Ibis in the chain that doesn’t seem to do an an early breakfast from 4.30, so that meant I’d be doing the boulangerie run or eating on the ferry. First floor room as well (sigh). And the power cube with USB charging didn’t work- but then I had my own charger. 85 miles done since this morning.
But I had a dinner date to make. 7.15 for 7.30 at restaurant La Buissoniere. More faffing meant I cut it a bit fine and I was the last there, at about 7.45, to ironic cheers (I’m not making a habit out of this…). We’d paid (subsidised by club funds) and selected the food already. Following the welcome drink, a fruit punch for me, my starter was a strawberry and goats cheese tart- sounds like it shouldn’t work, did in practice. Main was a ham and poultry roulade- excellent. For dessert, a mousse with chocolate, caramel & peanuts- sort of like a melted-down Snickers bar, but posher- I’m sure they didn’t just buy bars! And very nice it all was too. There wasn’t just food and drink of course, we’d all chipped in with a small gift for our ride leaders (ass saver mudguards), and there was much banter about the adventures we’d had. Martin’s birthday was also celebrated. Then, Calvados was mentioned. Tim was gently persuaded to pay for that out of club funds. Santé!
Cheers! Pic from Helen
That done, some went for a quick(ish) drink, I went back to the hotel, and an early(ish) night, we were meeting at the Phare at 6.15…
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As a foot note to your very informative history lesson about the Canadian army battle. They were based in Orpington before being shipped out to France and on their return. The Canadians built a hospital here which some of it still stands. Part of the local cemetery is called Canadian Corner where a good few of those poor souls are buried and where a memorial to them commemorates.
Dogtrousers
Kilometre nibbler
Another SE London Canadian connection is Canadian Avenue in Catford which used to be called Berlin Avenue until 1918. It was renamed in honor of the Canadian Forestry Corps who were based in Catford.
Moodyman
Legendary Member
Thanks for the write up Stu. Brings back wonderful memories. I’ve done a few Fridays tours and this was one of the best. It had everything. Adverse weather,
hills and heat, but they were nullified by the camaraderie and togetherness that makes The Fridays so great.
The icing on the proverbial cake… at the ferry check in at Calais, they gave us our own lane. Only The Fridays can have that sort of impact.
hills and heat, but they were nullified by the camaraderie and togetherness that makes The Fridays so great.
The icing on the proverbial cake… at the ferry check in at Calais, they gave us our own lane. Only The Fridays can have that sort of impact.
Attachments
When going through Dover on one holiday, one of the cyclists decided to find his own check-in by crossing the lanes in front of a few HGV's. Someone in the port office pressed the panic button and closed all the lanes so enthusiastic but errant individual could be rescued before he looked like road kill.
Made for an exciting start to the holiday. Unfortunately a busted derailleur hanger just outside Arras put paid to that journey.
Attachments
Domus
Guru
- Location
- Sunny Radcliffe
The trenches and craters climbing up to Vimy Ridge were quite something to behold but the monument itself was very moving, with the sun shining through the gap in the centre and the stillness all around I must have got a bit of grit in both eyes.
ianmac62
Guru
- Location
- Northampton
Loved the mention of the Busnel distillery - memories, memories!
ianmac62
Guru
- Location
- Northampton
Great and brave write-up, Stu! I really appreciate the honesty which shone through.
If you’re looking for more Canadian grit in your eye, you could try Beaumont-Hamel, between Amiens and Arras. So grateful were the French for the self-sacrifice there, than they handed over the land to the Government of Newfoundland in perpetuity. (Newfoundland joined Canada in 1949.) Today, young Canadians welcome you to the site, explaining that it is under Canadian law and jurisdiction.
If you’re looking for more Canadian grit in your eye, you could try Beaumont-Hamel, between Amiens and Arras. So grateful were the French for the self-sacrifice there, than they handed over the land to the Government of Newfoundland in perpetuity. (Newfoundland joined Canada in 1949.) Today, young Canadians welcome you to the site, explaining that it is under Canadian law and jurisdiction.
Shadow
member
- Location
- edge of the south downs
As is the picture in the Official Fridays Tour report. I can only imagine how being there felt.
Returning from champagne country by car last september, to stave off boredom I took local roads as opposed to motorway and somewhere near Arras traversed a roundabout. I was astonished to learn at that spot, four VC''s were awarded to four canadians. On one day. 🇨🇦 🇨🇦 🇨🇦 🇨🇦
Andrew Br
Still part of the team !
- Location
- Chorlton Cum Hardy
Day Seven: Arras to Calais
Andrew was designated ride leader for today, and doing things in his own, slightly different way, sent out a briefing message. The start time was moved forward to 7.45, and he ever so slightly altered the start point as well. The B&B breakfast was excellent, and I set off on the mostly-easy peasy route to the Grand Place (well, the Place des Héros right next door)…at 7.38. Oops. And did I get all green lights? Nope. You can guess how well that worked out. Sorry Andrew. More like 7.55 when I rolled up, and we went pretty much immediately. I was trying to get the faffing out of the way first, OK?
There wasn’t much climbing on this route, but what there was was nearly all in the first 10 miles, as we went to the high point of the ride, and a very evocative first stop, Vimy Ridge. The name will be familiar to anyone with a smattering of World War One knowledge. The ridge is just over 4 miles long, and reaches 476 ft in height. With an unobstructed view for miles around, it was a vitally important strategic position, and German forces had held it almost continuously since the early stages of the war. Moroccan troops had briefly captured the ridge in 1915, but were unable to hold it without reinforcements that never came, an all too easy target for the enemy, and forced to withdraw (they have their own memorial on the site).
In April 1917, the wider Battle of Arras was raging. All four of the Canadian divisions created to fight in Europe were tasked with capturing the ridge, serving together for the first time. British artillery was there in a supporting role, with more troops as reserve, who were brought in as the battle continued, but principally, this was fought, won, and suffered, by Canadians. There were around 10,000 Canadian casualties, including 3,598 dead, in four days. German losses are unknown but estimates range from 20,000 casualties to over 80,000. It was seen as a nation-defining moment in Canada, and the site became the largest Canadian overseas war memorial. 100 hectares of the former battlefield site (still largely closed off for safety, as there are numerous trenches & tunnels, let alone unexploded munitions), with the centrepiece monument an astonishing piece of sculpture. I’ve been to a few such places before- the Menin Gate in Ypres, cemeteries in Normandy, a wreath-laying at the Arc, Terezin (aka Theresienstadt)…they never fail to raise a tear. And they always should.
After that sombre moment, on we pressed. I had my first and only mechanical of the tour. As I’ve often done in the past, I’d strapped wet items to the rack to (hopefully) dry out- can’t remember if it was the shoes or laundry. I was using the long and robust strap that came with the Tern rack I’ve fitted to my folder (if Ortlieb did bungee cords…). All of a sudden there was assorted alarming clunks and bangs and somewhat impeded forward progress. I pulled in sharpish and had a look. One of the hooks had made a bid for freedom and caught on one of the spokes. The cord had managed to catch on the non-drive side of the hub, next to the disc rotor, and wrap itself three or four times around the hub. It couldn’t be freed without taking the wheel out, which I did with Jim’s help. Cord out, wheel back in, washing & cord in pannier. Phew! Tim had a bigger problem. Despite having thoroughly serviced the bike pre-tour, he was having drivetrain issues, which led him to go for the nearest Decathlon, and he’d end up taking the train to Calais. Mind you, then there was the massive bolt that somehow punctured Bob’s rear tyre…
Much of today’s route, starting at about 25 miles, was on canal paths, and the quality (again) varied dramatically from excellent to sketchy (and stronger language….). At the 37 mile market, there was the usual supermarket stop. There were more Di2 issues- a couple more recalibrations on a couple of bikes since that one on the first day, but this was worse- rear derailleur was only shifting between five or six gears. Not good, and a fix was beyond collective knowledge. 20 minutes or so later, we pressed on. And on. And on…This was a big day, with a lot of miles to cover, and an arranged celebratory dinner in Calais to make, but our lunch stop couldn’t come soon enough. There were vocal and stomach grumblings- as a fictional TV policeman might have put it, ‘We’re the Fridays, son, and we haven’t had our pain chasseur’. More than a few of us looked longingly at the eating opportunities we were passing. But eventually, we got to Saint-Omer, and a boulangerie (sizeable, with seating in and out) which was next door to a Carrefour. I just sat on a wall and ate what I’d bought earlier on, borrowing a fork from Martin as there wasn’t one in the salad box. 45 minutes later, we were on our way again.
A few miles later, Andrew provided one of those near-mandatory ride leader navigation errors (I’ve been there, done that, will do it again), quickly rectified. After twenty miles of roads- some busy, others more quiet than a mouse in a silent monastic order- we were back on canals for the last ten miles of the run into Calais. Our end/meeting point was the suitably hard-to-miss lighthouse, the Phare de Calais. From there, on with Iain and Peter to our hotel, the Ibis Calais Car Ferry. Sadly, about the only Ibis in the chain that doesn’t seem to do an an early breakfast from 4.30, so that meant I’d be doing the boulangerie run or eating on the ferry. First floor room as well (sigh). And the power cube with USB charging didn’t work- but then I had my own charger. 85 miles done since this morning.
But I had a dinner date to make. 7.15 for 7.30 at restaurant La Buissoniere. More faffing meant I cut it a bit fine and I was the last there, at about 7.45, to ironic cheers (I’m not making a habit out of this…). We’d paid (subsidised by club funds) and selected the food already. Following the welcome drink, a fruit punch for me, my starter was a strawberry and goats cheese tart- sounds like it shouldn’t work, did in practice. Main was a ham and poultry roulade- excellent. For dessert, a mousse with chocolate, caramel & peanuts- sort of like a melted-down Snickers bar, but posher- I’m sure they didn’t just buy bars! And very nice it all was too. There wasn’t just food and drink of course, we’d all chipped in with a small gift for our ride leaders (ass saver mudguards), and there was much banter about the adventures we’d had. Martin’s birthday was also celebrated. Then, Calvados was mentioned. Tim was gently persuaded to pay for that out of club funds. Santé!
That done, some went for a quick(ish) drink, I went back to the hotel, and an early(ish) night, we were meeting at the Phare at 6.15…
Your faffing was lost in the noise of the ride leader faffing at the start StuAff. Just when it mattered my Garmin had a strop and Ross led us on our way until mine power cycled (turn it off, turn it back on, wait for it to re-calculate the route. Did I want to navigate to the start ? No, of course I f*cking didn't want to, we're already 10km into the route no thanks to you you b*stard.)*
I shan't mention the other missed turn that no-one apart from Ross seemed to notice. I was aware of it and I could see how to get back en route so no damage done.
As ever with the Fridays, I had lots of support on the way from Robin noticing that we needed to stop to refuel (being at the front means that you can't really judge how the group are doing, you're concentrating on where the group is going especially if you're relying on someone else's gpx). He came up with a plan to divert off the canal and go to a mini hypermarche. It added a few km but was well worth it IMO.
Tim was also giving feedback on route choices from ahead of us and of course Ross was there in case of emergency.
The biggest mistake that I made was riding past the morning toilet/refreshment stop because I was looking for a McD's rather than one of the major chain hypermarches that was where we were supposed to stop. Sorry about that and, again, many thanks to Robin for his alternative.
I think this was the worst day (for some definition of "worst") of the Tour for me; I was a bit stressed by leading a route that I didn't know.
Apologies if I was a little abrupt at times.
I can't tell you how relieved I was when we got to Calais.......
Back OT:-
Great write ups Stu, it's brought back terrific memories for me and thanks for your honesty of the "bad" day. We've all been there.
I'm glad that you joined us for the rest of the Tour.
*This may or may not have been the silent conversation I was having with the blasted device**.
** Yes, yes it was ..........
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OP
OP
StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Stress was inevitable. You just can't know the route as well as if you did a recce- you could go through it with Google Maps and Streetview, come up with a POI list to be taped to your stem, etc…and still run into problems. But you did a great job despite all that. And as for needing refuelling, you certainly did better than Simon did on occasion. On one ride I was riding between him and Susie. She was being loud and clear that a break was needed, and he wasn't paying attention. I imagined him thinking 'What was that dear, fine to continue? Jolly good…'.
Oh yes, Garmin b******s. My eTrex 30x is a very, very, annoying device when it comes to trying to navigate anywhere. Unlike my now deceased Edge 705, it just can't do turn by turn from a GPX track, which is (IMHO) the easiest and most fault-tolerant approach, for you and the device. It's like the Edge and eTrex software teams don't talk to each other. You can't load a route or track for nav if you've not reached the start because it'll try and navigate you to the end from your current position (!). Best workaround is to have a track displayed and running a route…which puts so much •••• all over the map so you can't read road names etc. Which is a real pity because otherwise it's been really great- doesn't fall over, boots fast, (AA) batteries last ages- 25 hours max, excellent screen.
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OP
OP
StuAff
Silencing his legs regularly
- Location
- Portsmouth
Day Eight: Calais-Dover-London (and then home)
Below: The Phare (pic by Marie)
Ah, we were heading back to that weird little country at the edge of Europe, the one with driving on the wrong side of the road, lots of rubbish bread, a tiny selection of cheese in the supermarkets, and drivers who feel obliged to tell you about non-existent highway rules, among other things. Though you can get a decent cup of tea.
The previous night, I’d had the bright idea of setting the alarm to 5.15 instead of five. As a result, I didn’t have time to visit the earmarked boulangerie, and between faffing and a spot of Eric Morecambe navigation (in that I took all the right roads, not necessarily in the right order), I made the Phare at 6.13. I’d had an (unanswered because I was just round the corner) call asking where I was, and I remarked to Ross ‘You rang?”. And not only was I on time, just, I still wasn’t last…
Once we’d achieved all up, round to the ferry terminal, and a slightly more streamlined check-in & customs procedure than it had been at Newhaven, or it least it seemed like it. It was a fairly chilly morning, but just 20-odd miles away it would prove rather warmer. We had our own lane assigned for check-in (complete with bike logo), and we were on the ship in plenty of time before the sailing at 0735 CET. Most of us then headed to the restaurant in search of grub. The full English was surprisingly good- my previous experience of DFDS catering, on the Dunkerque route some years before, was not good, but the breakfast here was perfectly fine and certainly filled a hole. And tea, for the first time in a week. Some slept, some took pictures of others asleep then pretended they didn’t nod off themselves, and some- OK, me- just listened to an assortment of music guaranteed to keep themselves awake.
Below: Sleeping like a bunch of cyclists who got up really, really early
We were all rolling off the ferry just before 8.30 BST. After the (unsurprisingly) slow trip through customs and to exit the ferry port, we said goodbye to those who were heading straight to a train. Of the rest, some were planning to ride part way, for a train or to make their way home, and some were riding all the way back to the smoke. I was naturally in the latter. Riding home? Er, no, that would be just under 140 miles, and the first 90 or so is only slightly less hilly than this ride would be. I didn’t really want to get home at ten or eleven (if I did OK…) Trains? Slogging along the coast with Southern can be done for £17, but four and a half hours, three changes (up from two when I did it a few years ago) …no thank you. Via London, rather more expensive (fare to Pompey £57!), but a bit faster and a lot simpler. But I wasn’t in a rush and feeling fine, so time enough to complete the ride loop to Waterloo before using the other half of the return ticket.
The climbing started early- even those who were going straight to Priory station got some. I knew it was going to be tough, having ridden the other way a couple of times. After the initial up to 11% kick heading out of town, there was a fast descent, then another climb, as steep as the first. Another descent, then another kick- this just within the first fifteen miles. There was a bit of walking, including from me at least one point. All of this on the traditional (mostly) terrible British rural road surfaces, though at least there was some tree cover to give us a break from the glaring sun. At one point we were overtaken by someone on a (legal) Specialized e-bike. I wasn’t jealous, but had the the thought he wouldn’t be that fast if his battery died, especially with our luggage.
First break, much needed, was at Wye, a few miles NE of Ashford, and some of the group peeled off for trains from Itsnotinternational station. Self and a few others went shopping in the Co-op for refreshments (elevenses/early lunch). As mid-ride snackage, part one, I went for yet another litre of juice and a bag of doughnuts- a form of energy gel, as I remarked to Sal. Lunch was still another 30 or so miles away, and breakfast was some hours and quite a lot of hard riding ago, so those calories weren’t exactly going to hang around, if they ever do…After twenty minutes or so, back on the road.
Next stretch was rolling, for the most part fairly gently. About an hour and a half on from Wye, we had an unusual though pleasant interruption due to the carnival in Bearsted, which entailed walking through the village centre. After Bearsted, there was some more fast descents, before (you may have guessed) more climbing, though not much just yet. At just after two, and fifty miles in, we reached West Malling and our lunch stop. Most went to a pub on the high street, self and a few others went for other options- in my case a sandwich (etc) from Tesco. Snack supplies were reinforced by a pack of muffins. Jim was met by his wife and left us there, no doubt very reluctant to miss out all the climbing to come.
After lunch came a lot more elevation- at first nothing too challenging, but then the long, steady grind of Wrotham Hill, on the unsurprisingly busy A20. Most of the drivers were fairly considerate, though one had to admit to self-gratification in our presence. I think that was what he said…After that came an equally fast descent, fittingly going past Brands Hatch, though my top speed was a mere 35 or so mph. There were a few sharpish kicks after that, but the worst of the climbing was now behind us. By five we were passing through Sidcup, and firmly into busy suburban traffic, and the ride gradually became more of a slog between traffic lights, and a case of dodging errant riders on L-plate scooters and illegal e-bikes. Oh London, how we missed you (sort of).
All of a sudden, so it seemed, we’d reached London proper, and we paused in Greenwich Park for a breather. The last stretch was pretty routine and increasingly familiar, before we finally reached our destination- Tower Bridge (well, OK, Shad Thames and its All Bar One with a handy riverside view). Cue many pictures of a dozen well-exercised but happy people in lycra. Most then went for a well-deserved drink. With another ninety minutes on a train to get home, and the next fast service from Waterloo within reach, I opted to make that rather than relax for a bit then get home at a rather later hour. I said my goodbyes and headed the short distance back to Waterloo. I made the 7.00 fast service south, and was back home at ten to nine. A bit of telly and then an early night…out like a light. From Dover to Waterloo was 82.38 miles, 4369 ft of elevation. Since leaving home on the Friday evening (well, leaving the first time), a total of 588.54 miles, 21,501 ft of elevation. I’m not sure how many of the group did the full London-Paris-London loop, but it was only a handful. And I still had the bike when I got home, unlike last year!
Below: Team Tower Bridge, photo from Tim (taken by helpful passer-by)
It was back to work on Monday for a rest…apart preparing for that Friday’s ride to Brighton!
Not sure what idea what form next year’s tour will take, Flanders has been mooted (and which I’d like), and I have a few ideas…but hopefully as successful as this was. Same time next year?
Below: The best bike of the tour (though I concede I'm biased) after a well-deserved wash
Below: The Phare (pic by Marie)
Ah, we were heading back to that weird little country at the edge of Europe, the one with driving on the wrong side of the road, lots of rubbish bread, a tiny selection of cheese in the supermarkets, and drivers who feel obliged to tell you about non-existent highway rules, among other things. Though you can get a decent cup of tea.
The previous night, I’d had the bright idea of setting the alarm to 5.15 instead of five. As a result, I didn’t have time to visit the earmarked boulangerie, and between faffing and a spot of Eric Morecambe navigation (in that I took all the right roads, not necessarily in the right order), I made the Phare at 6.13. I’d had an (unanswered because I was just round the corner) call asking where I was, and I remarked to Ross ‘You rang?”. And not only was I on time, just, I still wasn’t last…
Once we’d achieved all up, round to the ferry terminal, and a slightly more streamlined check-in & customs procedure than it had been at Newhaven, or it least it seemed like it. It was a fairly chilly morning, but just 20-odd miles away it would prove rather warmer. We had our own lane assigned for check-in (complete with bike logo), and we were on the ship in plenty of time before the sailing at 0735 CET. Most of us then headed to the restaurant in search of grub. The full English was surprisingly good- my previous experience of DFDS catering, on the Dunkerque route some years before, was not good, but the breakfast here was perfectly fine and certainly filled a hole. And tea, for the first time in a week. Some slept, some took pictures of others asleep then pretended they didn’t nod off themselves, and some- OK, me- just listened to an assortment of music guaranteed to keep themselves awake.
Below: Sleeping like a bunch of cyclists who got up really, really early
We were all rolling off the ferry just before 8.30 BST. After the (unsurprisingly) slow trip through customs and to exit the ferry port, we said goodbye to those who were heading straight to a train. Of the rest, some were planning to ride part way, for a train or to make their way home, and some were riding all the way back to the smoke. I was naturally in the latter. Riding home? Er, no, that would be just under 140 miles, and the first 90 or so is only slightly less hilly than this ride would be. I didn’t really want to get home at ten or eleven (if I did OK…) Trains? Slogging along the coast with Southern can be done for £17, but four and a half hours, three changes (up from two when I did it a few years ago) …no thank you. Via London, rather more expensive (fare to Pompey £57!), but a bit faster and a lot simpler. But I wasn’t in a rush and feeling fine, so time enough to complete the ride loop to Waterloo before using the other half of the return ticket.
The climbing started early- even those who were going straight to Priory station got some. I knew it was going to be tough, having ridden the other way a couple of times. After the initial up to 11% kick heading out of town, there was a fast descent, then another climb, as steep as the first. Another descent, then another kick- this just within the first fifteen miles. There was a bit of walking, including from me at least one point. All of this on the traditional (mostly) terrible British rural road surfaces, though at least there was some tree cover to give us a break from the glaring sun. At one point we were overtaken by someone on a (legal) Specialized e-bike. I wasn’t jealous, but had the the thought he wouldn’t be that fast if his battery died, especially with our luggage.
First break, much needed, was at Wye, a few miles NE of Ashford, and some of the group peeled off for trains from Itsnotinternational station. Self and a few others went shopping in the Co-op for refreshments (elevenses/early lunch). As mid-ride snackage, part one, I went for yet another litre of juice and a bag of doughnuts- a form of energy gel, as I remarked to Sal. Lunch was still another 30 or so miles away, and breakfast was some hours and quite a lot of hard riding ago, so those calories weren’t exactly going to hang around, if they ever do…After twenty minutes or so, back on the road.
Next stretch was rolling, for the most part fairly gently. About an hour and a half on from Wye, we had an unusual though pleasant interruption due to the carnival in Bearsted, which entailed walking through the village centre. After Bearsted, there was some more fast descents, before (you may have guessed) more climbing, though not much just yet. At just after two, and fifty miles in, we reached West Malling and our lunch stop. Most went to a pub on the high street, self and a few others went for other options- in my case a sandwich (etc) from Tesco. Snack supplies were reinforced by a pack of muffins. Jim was met by his wife and left us there, no doubt very reluctant to miss out all the climbing to come.
After lunch came a lot more elevation- at first nothing too challenging, but then the long, steady grind of Wrotham Hill, on the unsurprisingly busy A20. Most of the drivers were fairly considerate, though one had to admit to self-gratification in our presence. I think that was what he said…After that came an equally fast descent, fittingly going past Brands Hatch, though my top speed was a mere 35 or so mph. There were a few sharpish kicks after that, but the worst of the climbing was now behind us. By five we were passing through Sidcup, and firmly into busy suburban traffic, and the ride gradually became more of a slog between traffic lights, and a case of dodging errant riders on L-plate scooters and illegal e-bikes. Oh London, how we missed you (sort of).
All of a sudden, so it seemed, we’d reached London proper, and we paused in Greenwich Park for a breather. The last stretch was pretty routine and increasingly familiar, before we finally reached our destination- Tower Bridge (well, OK, Shad Thames and its All Bar One with a handy riverside view). Cue many pictures of a dozen well-exercised but happy people in lycra. Most then went for a well-deserved drink. With another ninety minutes on a train to get home, and the next fast service from Waterloo within reach, I opted to make that rather than relax for a bit then get home at a rather later hour. I said my goodbyes and headed the short distance back to Waterloo. I made the 7.00 fast service south, and was back home at ten to nine. A bit of telly and then an early night…out like a light. From Dover to Waterloo was 82.38 miles, 4369 ft of elevation. Since leaving home on the Friday evening (well, leaving the first time), a total of 588.54 miles, 21,501 ft of elevation. I’m not sure how many of the group did the full London-Paris-London loop, but it was only a handful. And I still had the bike when I got home, unlike last year!
Below: Team Tower Bridge, photo from Tim (taken by helpful passer-by)
It was back to work on Monday for a rest…apart preparing for that Friday’s ride to Brighton!
Not sure what idea what form next year’s tour will take, Flanders has been mooted (and which I’d like), and I have a few ideas…but hopefully as successful as this was. Same time next year?
Below: The best bike of the tour (though I concede I'm biased) after a well-deserved wash
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