Paris - Brest - Paris 1200 and a bit more: 13 to 27th August 2019 - Part 2 the ride

The Bike Check

After the ride down in glorious sunshine I woke to the sound of rain battering off the window of my hotel room and an impatient housekeeper knocking on my door.  In the breakfast room a collection of dejected looking cyclists from around the world were chewing their croissants and pain au chocolate looking wearily into the rain.

Part of the queue

For the Vedettes and Touristes it was bike check and registration day so riders slowly dripped out into the rain and headed for the Bergerie where a line of cyclists stretched along the muddy and cobbled roads waiting to have their bikes checked for loose baggage, functional lights and over length tri-bars before queuing to get their documentation sorted out..

The line moved orderly but slowly towards the marquee, riders from all over the world were around showing different approaches to dealing with the wet weather. The CTC Highlanders randomly appeared under the trees beside the queue, this was ideal as I'd been in contact about meeting for lunch but hadn't had the latest update, meeting at the station at 1. I could only hope I'd be through the check and registration by then.

Getting closer

The queue wound on, and turned into the marquee, when I got to the front the checker gave various bits attached to my bike a shoogle to see if they fell off, tested the brakes worked and then asked to see the lights on. I demonstrated the battery front light and then went to spin the wheel for the dynamo, the USB Werk was stealing the supply for some reason so I disconnected it and tried again with a "hm, I'll need to sort that" thankfully it worked and I wasn't sent to the shop to get an extra front light, the rear lights were an easier proposition as I had 3 battery lights and the dynamo so I just switched on 2 of the battery lights.

The checker pointed to the saltires on my bag, "l'Ecosse?", "Oui", he smiled, then a sticker was put on my frame and I was given my ticket for registration and sent on my way with a merci and a bon route.

Crammed into a barn to register

I parked the bike and took my Carriadce with me so I didn't have to haul documentation out in the wet, and American rider started speaking to me pointing out he knew I'd speak English because of the Carradice; it's a very British style of luggage that some American companies have also adapted to suit their market.  He said he normally asked for photos of people in their kit but as it was raining everyone was hiding under rain jackets.  I had decided to get my travel clothes wet rather than kit so he wouldn't have got the desired photo of me anyway.



After talking I joined the registration queue and entered the barn, only once I was in there did I discover that I had joined the wrong side of the queue for my start letter and so swapped sides, many others were doing it too and I saw a sign being hastily prepared for erection outside.

In front of me a group of VC167 riders I know, were gaming the queue so that AUK Chairman Chris would process their registration and get a good chat in at the same time, I wasn't so bothered about who processed me and got one of the locals who had just started, this resulted in a slightly drawn out process but all was good in the end and I soon had my documentation which I stuffed into the bag for later processing and rode into town to meet the Highlanders.

Velomobiles parked up

I got to the station just before 1 but there was no sign of them, as it turned out I was there first as Andy, Iain and Tony soon appeared stating they had no idea where Mark was and his phone was off, ideal since he was organizing!

Eventually Mark, Finlay, Darren and Kenny arrived and the hunt for somewhere to eat was on, the Café at the station was mid-refurbishment, so we went on a tour of the town, finding a Creperie and made actions to sit outside, the waiter appeared and started talking at us which turned out to be along the lines of "you idiots your mate has sorted a table inside for you why are you wanting to sit out in the rain" or something like that anyway.
I messaged Robbie to say where we were but he was still up at the Bergerie getting sorted out.

Mark and Ian had a table inside for us and started doing the translating and ordering for us too, I had my usual scan of a cheese laden menu before finally finding something I could eat without fear of the consequences.  Robbie was still up at the Bergerie when Élaina arrived, unfortunately there was no space at the table or inside and she ended up waiting for him outside. We all had a mix of bike check times and Mark, Darren and Finlay all set off after eating, just in time for Robbie to arrive freeing up space at the table of them. I ordered another coke and a pudding Crepe but only the first part of the order arrived which was a tad annoying.

A direction Sign

After lunch I needed something to do and a poster on YACF had identified there is a model railway in town so I went to see that, sadly the garden railway wasn't running due to the rain, I'd left my camera on the bike and I forgot the name of the café I'd get a free lunch at with my entry ticket.  It's a nice wee museum showing the collection of a townsman that was bequeathed to the municipality and only cost  €4 to see.  The rain finally stopped in time for me to head back to the hotel; I decided to grab something quick for tea and visited the burger joint next to the hotel followed by the creperie down the road to get the Banana and Nutella crepe that never arrived at lunch time, then returned to the hotel to watch tv and sleep.

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The Ride

Rain, again.

I woke to the sound of rain battering off the window of my hotel room. I needed to be out the hotel by 11 so it was going to be a long day, I took my time over a large breakfast as dejected looking cyclists from around the world were chewing their croissants and pain au chocolate looking wearily into the rain.  Once I'd had enough of sitting in the room waiting for the housekeeper to get impatient again I took the bike outside and sat with some other riders on the windowsill watching the rain.





The rain reduced to a drizzle which was good enough for me and I set off into town to get lunch which ended up being a mix of pastries from "Paul" and a Carefour Baguette which I ate on the benches outside the church as families left following mass.  There wasn't much point hanging around here so I went up to the Bergerie, the rain was off fully now but the cobbled roads and courtyards were still very muddy. I parked up and had a hobble round the stalls in my road shoes, back at the bike I looked at the imprint in the ground and realized I'd lost my cleat covers.  I started to repeat the route I'd walked and quickly found one of them, but the other was no where to be seen.  I repeated the whole loop pushing the bike and then as I passed the place where I'd found the first cover I spotted the other.  With the sun now out properly I propped myself on a wall and started to be sociable with the various Scottish and Northern English riders who kept popping up allover the place; over the period of the event I only failed to bump into two of the Scottish riders I've spoken to over the last couple of years, Michael and Douglas.

Ron and Graeme waiting to start

I started to get worried that I hadn't eaten enough, and with my start time being tea time I wouldn't get a chance to eat properly again until Mortagne, so I went to the BBQ grill for chips and sausage, Pete was there having food as well and amusingly had chosen to wear a convict jersey for the event on the basis it was the closest he had to an Onion Johnny jersey!  Ron was also there, as one of the faster riders I only ever see him before rides, PBP would prove no different on that front!




I realized that time was disappearing faster than I'd hoped and the chances of an afternoon nap were gone. Murmurings started around those amassed that no one knew quite where the start was and the first of the Vedettes were due off soon; someone dug out a laptop and I quickly realized I was in the wrong place and it wasn't too long until my start time; I rode down towards the Chateau and found the mass of riders. The letter H was held up by someone at the front, the mass moved and the letter J appeared... There must be another mass, I pushed past people down the hill and found someone holding up the letter I in front of another mass of riders, I realized that this must be where K will be and pushed on.  My phone buzzed in its pocket and I dug it out to find Robbie asking where I was, I started to explain then spotted the "share location" button so hit that instead just as Graeme appeared. I barged across the road and we headed to the back of the I pack; a couple of riders I knew had L plates and I pointed them to the top of the hill where I'd just come down for their start before joining the mass jostling at the back of the I's where Robbie found me, a number of American riders had managed to be around us and Robbie started critiquing their style amongst other discussion topics; this would not be the last I'd see of these American riders on the route.

General view of riders waiting to start

As the group shuffled forwards Robbie and Graeme were sucked forwards as people pushed in front of me and I was surrounded by the Americans as well as a few Canadians; suddenly we were moving faster and the words "We're running late so you just go once you're stamped" were being muttered by marshals to us.  The line thinned out into 3 as we went through the stamping control, I hopped on the bike and I started my first Paris-Brest-Paris Randonneur.

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Outbound

Leg 1 - Ramboulliet to Mortagne

Distance of leg: 118km
Time Taken on leg: 4h 41min
Riding Average Speed for leg: 25kmh
Time in Hand on arrival at Mortagne: 3h 9min

Early scenes from the road

The road out of the Bergerie was a mix of tar, gravel and cobbles thankfully the control station was keeping riders split up so I had a reasonably clear run, a handful of spectators lined the road cheering as I battered on along it with one thing in my mind "Catch Robbie and Graeme", I was riding fast, possibly too fast. The electonic timing station was a surprisingly long way from the control, the arch over it and the podium where dignitaries stood watching and cheering along with more locals.  I caught a bunch of riders just before the gateway out onto the road at the cobbled corner, took care over the cobbles and then set off up the hill and out of town towards St Leger that I'd ridden down on the Friday evening.

I knew from descending it that it was a good shove up, I knew I shouldn't be going so fast but if I caught Robbie and Graeme I'd be with riders whose riding I know and am comfortable with and more importantly set a higher pace that I tend to set for myself.  As I ploughed on I was passing other riders up the hill, riders smaller than me, riders lighter than me, riders I shouldn't have been passing up a hill!

I pulled onto the front of the group like I meant it and a couple of other riders got on the front while others squeezed in behind. They were obviously also wanting to press on. We reached the top of the hill, and some of the riders in front were going slower than I like, so I pulled out and went round them only to be hit by a short rise I hadn't noticed. I'd no choice but to dig in again as riders had tagged on to me and I couldn't block them by slowing down.
Finally the top of the climb came and I could ease off on the effort but I still keept the speed up, ahead of me I could see similar jostling for places and I guess it was the same behind; riders subconsciously try to find their place in a pack of riders with a huge variety of abilities. In St Leger we were pointed round the one way system and then onto the road west.

Later on as the sun was sinking

I kept on at a pace, there was a good range of riders around me and most importantly a lot of them were tall so I could catch the draft.  I got speaking to an English rider who was keeping the same pace in this pack, the road rolls, I had to dig deep on the climbs but on the descents I could just roll them, a lot of riders around seemed a bit hesitant to descend.  The group continued to haemorage riders, some go off the front, some off the back and eventually we started pick up riders from the back of the wave in front.




The sound of a siren came from behind and the Pompiers drove past in their Ambulance, over a crest and out of sight, a few rises and falls later and I could see the red van ahead parked at the top of a rise, blue lights flashing, as we passed them the Pompiers were tending to a rider who had hit the ground. Their arm held in a sling as they were assisted into the Ambulance, their ride over already.

The roads nadgeryness started to increase, the long straight descents gave way to twisier ones. I'd wheel sucked and followed tall riders into a group that seemed so good but as we reached the top of a rise I suddenly noticed we were slowing down for the descent. We were doing 20kmh, I had the brakes on and I was still catching the rider in front.  Despite being in the right hand line there was no rider to my left so I pulled over into the left line looked behind and pulled out, staring down hill at a wonderful twisty and steep descent. I didn't just let go of the brakes I mashed the pedals too.
I flew past the front of the group, round a series of bends and started to climb again, keeping the power on to avoid being swamped, some of the faster climbers from the group caught me but I avoid being swamped by the rest, this continued with a few more of the rises and falls but every time less riders caught me.

Into the night

We passed through Coulombs and started the long drag up to Mortagne, some more faster riders passed including some from the L start wave but generally I was in a gap.
In villages kids put their hands out for high fives, adults offered water to those who had run out. I thought I had enough so there was no need to stop, but I knew I'd need to put my Hi-Vis on soon but I didn't want to stop to do it.
I'd placed the Orange mesh vest my bag so that I could haul it out and get my arm through the left hole easily enough but I struggled to push it over to the right arm, the wind, stronger than I thought wasn't helping. Another rider came up laughing, "I've been watching you trying to do that and thought I'd better help" he held the vest so I could get my right arm through; I thanked him and then we chatted for a bit before the terrain suited him better and he disappeared off into the sunset.

I soon realized my light was flickering and I started to worry that the fix was failing on bumps, but then I realized there were no bumps and anyway it was at too steady an interval for that, I determined that it must have been the USB-Werk recharging it's capacitor so either the wire did not have a good enough connection to run both or it was starting to fail since nothing was connected.
I tried to disconnect it on the go but the connectors were too good a fit to do one handed so decided it would have to wait until Mortagne.

A couple of wooded sections of road showed just how much the flickering was going to irritate me so I put on the battery light to fill in the gap, turning it off when I was back out in the light of open sections and on again when I hit the twisty descents just in case it went at a critical moment.
Small groups came on the flats and went on the hills, and before long I realized I was going to need a comfort break and that I was getting hungry. At Loingy some riders dived into the open shops but I carried on, knowing it wasn't too far to Mortagne, but just after leaving the town I had to stop for that break, groups of riders flew past as I relieved myself and I thought I'd never catch Robbie now, not knowing that as I stood at the roadside, in one of those groups Robbie had passed me.

Mortagne Café

From here the road climbed and fell repeatedly until the plateau on which Mortagne sits was reached, a large group of Japanese riders were are around me, they appeared first as individuals off the back of the group some hugging the white line in the darkness, others struggling up hills that seemed ominous for their chance of success.  The bulk of them were just in front of me as I entered Mortagne and they stopped at a patisserie that was open for business, I decided to eat at the "welcome site" instead as all the shops were busy.
As I leant my bike against the wall of the school Robbie was returning to his bike and said Hi, I asked him how long he'd been there and he said it was 15 minutes and was about to leave.

As I had just arrived and needed to grab something to eat as well as fill my bottles we agreed he shouldn't wait.
I headed for the food shack after filling my bottles, the servers were slow and faffy, and it seemed to take ages to get something, as I ate the ham baguette I'd purchased I realized I was going to need something for later in the night, so went back to get a baguette for my bag, and then went and explored the control, this all wasted precious time.
I spent 37 minutes stopped at the control before rolling on into the night.

Leg 2 - Mortagne to Villaines

Distance: 99km
Time Taken: 4h 30m
Riding Average Speed: 23.5kmh
Time in Hand: 4h 35m

A food stop in Vivoin as a rider slept

I slipped into the night with a handfull of other riders at ten to midnight, my light flicking issue resolved with the USB-Werk's wire disconnected from the generator.  Things were a lot less manic now, on the descents I picked off individual riders, on the climbs individual riders picked me off.

We rode into the La Sarthe department and round the edge of Mamurs, I thought to myself about how I got into this madness.
A grainy VHS video of the 1988 Le Mans 24hr, the year the WR Peugeots set the fastest speed ever on the Hunaudières, the year Porsche's unbeaten run for 9 years was broken by the TWR Jaguar XJR-9, all commentated on by two partisan commentators cheering on the Jags.
The closest I'll ever get to racing at LeMans is spectating and I suppose this madness.

I passed through a town called Dangeur, not the last to amuse me for reading like and English word and to Vivoin where I decided it was time to eat my baguette.
In the town square in front of the church a rider lay sleeping on the steps, I stopped, leant the bike against a wall and stood and ate the baguette as riders streamed past in the night.  It was only 10 minutes stopped in a 100km leg, but it felt like it had been longer, my average speed since leaving Mortagne severely dented, I was unaware I'd lost so much elevation and from there I hardly noticed I was climbing through the sensory deprivation of the dark warm night.

Villaines La Juel

As it turned out the road rose gently and fell rapidly, the descents coming as a surprise but I couldn't see the speed reduction of the climbs nor feel them in my legs but I could feel the effort in my empty belly and emptying bidons.  Stupidly I passed by locals with bottles of water and cakes on offer, I still had water and it wasn't too far, I could push myself another 20k to Villaines before eating, and I did, but I arrived with empty bottles and an empty stomach, a mistake so early in the ride.  The first open shop I saw was a Patisierie so I went in with many other riders and bought a very early breakfast before heading up to the control with the intent of bouncing it.

The control, the first of the ride was set with the bike park on the street outside the Hotel De Ville, despite the early hour some locals mingled, I got my card stamped, filled my bottles and paused, I needed to eat more so I found the "fast" cafe where I bought some carbs and sat down to eat.

In total I was 47 minutes stopped at Villaines, between the shop (7m) and the control (40m) it seems a long time to do not very much but this would become the pattern, I wasn't even having to queue all that much either.

Leg 3 - Villaines to Fougeres

Distance: 90km
Time Taken: 4h 11
Riding Average Speed: 21.2kmh
Time in Hand: 4h 40m
Sleep During Leg: 15m

Ambrieres-les-Vallées

It was just after 5am when I left Villaines on the road to Mayenne, at Loup Fougeres the locals had put on a display of flags around their stall but no one was there at this hour to serve us.  The route turned away from the Mayenne road and over a hill, a sustained 100+ meters climb before plunging down to L'Aisne, at Lassay-Les-Chateux there was nothing going on but then at Ambrieres-les-Vallées I found a café with riders stopped at it for Breakfast so I joined them.





Unfortunately I only had a 50 euro note on me thanks to my choice of cash machine earlier in the day, the rider next to me saw it and commented that this could be interesting and madame gasped in horror when she saw it, I had made a similar noise when I saw it come out the machine! However she found the appropriate change and I ate my breakfast at a table and then the next thing I knew I was lifting my head up off the table and worrying about the time.

The road climbed back out the valley of La Varenne before descending breifly to pass through Gorron, on a long straight stretch of road after a slight descent I was riding along on my own when the whirring of a large group came from behind me, riders streamed past in a jumbled line, suddenly in front of me a rider pulled out of the line and sat up, hands off the bars decelerating rapidly. Even as I applied my brakes hard the rider was getting closer, with what felt like millimeters to spare I looked to my left and shouted "HAW!" as I jinked round the rider forcing the riders passing me to also take evasive action thoughts of hopping on the back changed to thoughts of avoidance.

I saw a sign for La Tannierie and remembered there is a crepe stall there, but the stall and village were deserted; disappointed at the lack of crepes I rolled on.  At Le Loroux with no fanfare I entered Brittany, unlike at home where a large sign welcomes you and the road surface changes usually with a major bump, the road transition was invisible and signage limited to a small indicator of the department.

Fougeres

Brittany started with a gentle 60m climb, which set me up nicely for the long descent into Fougeres, on the road in to town I spotted a Lidl and realized this would be an ideal spot to grab a second breakfast and some supplies for the road, loading up on more pastries and a bag of Haribo for the back pocket.
I ate the breakfast before carrying on into the control where I bumped into Ian who had arrived seconds before me, I had a mini panic at this as I knew he had started about an hour behind me, then I remembered he's a much faster rider than me so catching up an hour in 16 wasn't too bad.
Despite the breakfast only minutes before I went straight for an early lunch in the "café", somehow I spent almost an hour here even though all I remember doing was controlling, eating and filling my water bottles.

Leg 4 and 5 - Fougeres to Tinteniac then on to Quedilliac

Distance: 81km
Time Taken: 4h 43m
Riding Average Speed: 20.7kmh
Time in Hand at Tinteniac: 4h 33m
Time in Hand at Quedilliac: 4h 43m

Riders passing through Sens-De-Bretagne

The route out of Fougeres was scenic, both in the visual and climbing sense, we rode up past the chateau and over the motorway into the country side, as I entered a town I saw a small supermarket and thought I might stop, then I saw what looked like a market in the town square. It was getting warm so I stopped to put on suncream as riders bought fruit from the stall. IT was getting warm and my skin was getting warmer I realized I needed to put on some suncream, and then realized I didn't have enough suncream to last the ride so popped into the village pharmacy to get more. €13 for factor 50 seemed a bit steep but then carrying factor duffle coat is a bit impractical and with the exchange rate not in my favour I couldn't expect much else so I bought it.

I returned to my bike and one of the riders had bought too many grapes, he asked the group gathered if anyone wanted the left overs and of course I offered to take them off his hands. He made a quipp about it being a Scot who was quick off the mark for a freebie, I didn't bother to add the usual line about being a Fifer.

Riders passing through Sens-De-Bretagne

While standing around somethings caught up with me and I spotted a toilet at the other side of the square, now I've heard stories about french public toilets being terrible, and in some ways this was a relief it was clean, covered and it even had a throne rather than being a squatter but there was no toilet roll so I resorted to the tissues I carry for this purpose.

I carried on having spent 30 minutes in Sens-De-Bretagne, there weren't many people out spectating by the roadside or offering food and drink, it was after all Monday afternoon, however occasionally people driving around were shouting encouragement from their cars a novel experience.
Back out in the countryside I rolled over a level crossing and I noted the name was Dingé another amusing one for me as Urban Dictionanry puts it:

2- (verb /adj) 'Dinghy' 'Dinghied'. Scottish. The act of being ignored, ignoring or intending to ignore or someone or something.

Well I'd hardly spoken to anyone for a while, maybe I was being Dinghied?

Sense-De-Bretagne

At Tinteniac only 55km since Fougeres I checked out the control layout as I arrived and parked the bike near the exit; with a bit more walking than I'd have liked but it was very busy with a party going on at the stage to add to the entertainment of the locals.  I decided there and then to bounce it, I grabbed my water bottles and went to find the control and water supply which were at opposite sides of the square. Despite the walking I took only 16 minutes here which was much more like what I'd been aiming for at the other controls.  I could bounce this control confidently because I knew it was only 25km to the non-control rest stop at Quedilliac where I was counting on it being quieter.  I did not know there was a significant climb to Becherel mostly in fields and in the heat of the afternoon the sun, I struggled up this hill and then enjoyed the descent as best I could.




The Quedilliac centre was indeed quieter, I stopped, parked the bike and looked around trying to identify the location of things, people lay on the grass sleeping, people sat at tables sleeping or eating, I didn't look properly at what was being eaten.  I'd wasted some time finding the food and once I'd found it the non-cheesy choice was poor, a plate of plain box pasta with a slice of ham on it. Having ridden through town and now unsure of when I'd next find food I had no option.

After the feed I considered a snooze so sat down on a bench outside but soon realized that with the sun beating down this wasn't going to happen for me, after just over 50 minutes of faffing I got back on the road.

Velomobile on the road

Leg 6 - Quedilliac to Loudeac

Distance: 59km
Time Taken: 3h
Riding Average Speed: 19.5
Time in Hand: 4h 59m

Breton muisc

Amazingly after the plate of disappointment I didn't stop for the 3 hour ride to Loudeac, I wondered when the fabled Britany rollers would start, unaware that I'd been riding them all day.  Dave had told me earlier in the season that I shouldn't have a problem with them as I'm used to steeper ramps but that was before he found out how badly I climb.  The 2/3% climbs and descents were hardly noticeable on the road but looking back at the speed profile I was crawling up them in the mid-teens.
I've also since learnt that there was a strong head wind all the way out to Brest, oddly I should have known this from the hi-vis incident on the first night however there wasn't much gusting so I just thought it was air resistance!

At one point after Quedilliac I was rolling along a long straight road when I felt ominous spits of rain on my hands and face, the road was wet and riders ahead of me were stopped under trees putting their rain jackets on, I thought about taking a picture but decided against it as I looked at the sky and saw the sole grey cloud in the sky fading away to nothing.  I knew there was no need to stop.
Even if it'd come to a bit more I'd probably have kept the jacket off, the afternoon heat would be unbearable in even a lightweight rain jacket and my kit would have dried out in it anyway.
I hear other riders behind me particularly the 84hr riders later at night weren't so lucky with heavy ninja showers and even some electrical activity attacking them.

St Menee-Le-Grande Hotel De Ville

At St Menee-Le-Grande I passed the Hotel De Ville with the turreted turrets, Disneyesq I've seen it called, there wasn't much else going on.  This section was perhaps surprisingly uneventful given the events earlier in the ride, through Meneac and La Chezé and up into Loudeac.
On the way into the Loudeac control I managed to be following a local rider who was being cheered on by friends as he arrived this included the Marshall at the roundabout just before the control, unfortunately he decided to ride to the marshal which involved being on the wrong side of the road and nearly crashed into a car approaching the roundabout from the left.  I was expecting it to be a normally left driving randonneur that I would see making this mistake.

The ride into the control also included a bizzare section of cyclo-crossing to get up to the bike park from the lower assembly area as well a left hand riding layout through here just to spice things up a bit.  It was early evening and there was a big party going on, the control was spread out round the bike park which at face value seemed a good layout but it took forever to get across as the marshalls were controlling the crossing of the 2 active lanes in and out of the bike park and you had to cross it.

I only controlled and filled my bottles but it took 25 minutes to walk across the bike park, round the side of a building, shuffle through the building to the control desk and get back through the bike park to my bike.  As it was so busy I decided again to bounce and go to the welcome centre at St Nicolas.

Leg 7 - Loudeac to St Nicolas

Distance: 44km
Time Taken: 2h 37m
Riding Average Speed: 18.2kmh
Time in Hand: 5h 3m

The Bretons like to put on a show

On the way out of Loudeac I realized that if I found anywhere to eat before St Nicolas I should probably take the opportunity.  The first place I reached was a restaurant, there were bikes parked outside and riders inside, some eating, some queuing to order.  I decided this was going to take too long and left cursing the 5 minutes I'd spent parking and investigating.  I spotted some old railway carriages and railbuses which were parked next to the line on the way out of town, I considered stopping and trying to get a photo but then remembered I had time pressures.



I rode back out into roller country, at Treve locals were standing on the decking outside the Tabac.
I stopped and lent the bike against the supports and ran in, ordered a coca and realized they also doubled up as a shop, I had a look round and grabbed some sweets and cakes for my bag and pocket.  The road undulated into the darkness, at Corlay the shops were open but I knew it wasn't far to St Nicolas at all so settled for stopping there.

As I rode through St Nicolas I worried that I was going to miss the welcome centre particularly since stopping wasn't compulsory however as I rolled down the hill out of town a man in hi-vis was standing in the middle of the road shouting "contrôle secret" and pointing us into the college grounds.  After the experience at Quedilliac I was slightly apprehensive about what might be on offer but I needn't have been.  The control also very well set out, we passed through the card stamping desk on the way into the bike park and then all the facilities were directly across a small tarred area from the bikes with the doors wide open.

A German Triplet

I wandered in and found the café was directly in front of me and the water supply and toilets were just off the main area, the restaurant was off to the side and I could see riders picking over items on a counter but I stuck with the baguette, I emptied and then topped up and got some food in. After eating I sat on a bench next to the door thinking I'd grab a quick snooze, but if I slept I didn't notice.

Somehow this stop consumed 55 minutes, I suspect with getting so far into sleep deprivation everything took me longer than it felt and having a good hour would have helped massively.

Leg 8 - St Nicolas to Carhaix

Distance: 32km
Time Taken: 1h 37m
Riding Average Speed: 20.5kmh
Time in Hand: 4h 48m
Sleep: 1h

I didn't stop on the way over to Carhaix in the dark, this section was one big stretched out hill with rollers all the way. And with it being so short it's hardly a surprise the near 1hr stop at St Nicolas dropped my time in hand by 10 minutes from the previous control and 15 from St Nicolas.

Carhaix - Sleep where you can find space

Carhaix is one of the controls notorious for being very busy so I was worried about how much time I'd lose here.
I was directed round to a room at the side where the control was and I shuffled through, from there it was a choice of doors, one outside and the other led into the self-service restaurant where there was a short queue to stand in to get food but after a quick scan of what was on offer I decided it was for the better if I ate a decent meal since I was standing drooling over the sight of it.


After selecting my food I looked for a table, I scanned the mine field of riders asleep on the floor or with their heads on the table looking for a seat then tip toed my way between sleeping riders and immovable seats to a clear space.
After eating I reviewed my time in hand and decided I had enough to take an hours sleep, set the alarm on my phone and then put my head on the table.

French on the left, Breton on the right, you can see how the name was adjusted to suit french

Over all the Carhaix stop took 1hr 37m, but with the first period of reasonable length sleep it was well worth it, the aim now was to climb the Roc Trevezal and get to Brest with as much time in hand as I could.

Leg 9 - Carhaix to Brest

Distance: 90km
Time Taken: 5h 48m
Riding Average Speed: 19.2kmh
Time in Hand: 3h 44m
Sleep: 10m

The keek o' day at Sizun

As I was preparing to leave the warmth of the college, I saw Jon who was on the retour already, hes one of those riders I only ever see at the start of rides or where the outbound and inbound routes mirror, so I wasn't too surprised.
I stepped out into the cold night leaving sleeping riders behind, a marshal and a rider were talking as I entered the bike park and I went to find my bike, even after so long in the control I had no issues remembering it was at the back wall roughly in the middle this was one problem I was told to beware of but not once did I struggle to find my bike. I put on my PBP yellow hi-vis vest this time as it was much colder tonight than before and the lack of ventilation would be a bonus in these conditions.

I had 3 hours 11 mins in hand now, still a comfortable amount of time, I rode through the cold darkness of the countryside and small towns, I was well fed, awake and had water so I didn't see a need to stop at the cafés that I passed with sleeping riders in the seating outside, or hunched over the counter.  The route crisscrossed with the return route and I saw the some of the fast riders returning from Brest of them Richard and Ron passed me in the night.  Their lights came down the hill at speed, some silent other than the whirring of chains and freewheels, others offered a "hi" or "bon nuit" through the darkness.

The top of the Roc on the return

I stopped just before Huelgoat and I started to wonder when I would start climbing the Roc Trevezal proper. I could see houses in the woods in the moonlight, and then I saw the light of the top of a transmitter, I had been climbing the Roc and I was nearly at the top, I'd expected more, I'd expected it to be harder, I'd expected it to be more like the Red Stane Rig, climbing through a town then out into the bleak openness of a Scottish hillside, but this, this was just a rise in a vast expanse of rises.  The darkness had taken my perception of speed away so I had no idea I'd been chuntering away in the low to mid-teens for an hour.

Pont Albert Louppe

At the top there was a motorhome and gazebo with two men tending to anyone who stopped, water and food on offer, I stopped and tiredness hit me.  I pointed at their sun loungers, "Can I sleep?", "How long?", "10 minutes".  I set my alarm and then shut my eyes and drifted off.

I woke just before my clock hit 30 seconds to go, the man was waiting to wake me; "you're awake already", "yes", "remember us on the way back up", "I will"


I set off at speed down the hill towards Sizun as the sky started to lighten, the chill of the night cutting through my arm warmers but despite this my fingers were fine in the mesh backed mitts I was wearing my hands have been much colder this season.
At Sizun a number of riders were stopped in the cafe and patisierie when I got there, I joined them first in the patisierie for a croissaint and then in the café where I had a cup of tea for the warmth.
I left Sizun after half an hour, with the sky much lighter but the air still much colder than I'd expected, I made a note to not spent too long at Brest as I'd be back here around lunch time given the distance and my progress.

Pont Albert Louppe

After a short descent from Sizun the route returned to more undulating countryside, and more villages. For the first time I noticed properly the signs cancelling the Priority route on the entrance to villages and that every commune seemed to inform you in a different manner that Prioritie A' Droit applied.  I crossed the motorway to Brest and picked up the old road alongside, through more villages.  No one was standing around to cheer as I passed through, car drivers seemed to be less patient of tired cyclists, we were no longer in rural France but on the approach to the land of an uncaring urban mass. I annoyed them by missing the exit of a roundabout outside a Super U hypermarket, delaying their pre-work shop by seconds.  I found the exit to the old road and it started to plunge down below and away from the motorway, I passed a well, a toilet and a monument, a 30kmh speed limit and a ban on cars and motorbikes, and then the trees gave way to views of the sea and of the Pont D'Ilroise as the parapets of the Pont Albert Louppe took over from the terrain.

I was finally on the bridge, the landmark that signals the arrival into the Brest area and a high point of the journey.  The bridge is younger than PBP having been opened in 1930 the year before the first PBP Randonneur and was named in memory of the Mayor of Brest who was responsible for its construction and missed seeing it opening by 3 years.

Pont D'Ilroise from Pont Albert Louppe

However the bridge didn't become part of the route until 1979 when a rejig changed the Randonneur route from the busy N12 road to the country road route I was riding; the UAF still use a variation of the N12 route for their PBP but as that's a group ride it's easier to marshall with safety vehicles at the front and back of the groups.
I stopped to take pictures, the low morning sun shining through the wires of the Pont D'Ilroise made it difficult take pictures of the more modern bridge, and for me to see properly as my glare problems hit hard.  I rode on as the bridge was swarmed with riders and started the climb into town.  I was aware that the town sign was in a nondescript location by the side of the road and was looking out for it to get a photo.  That done I planned to ride into the control, sort stuff out and get on the road.

As I climbed up in a bike lane as work bound traffic passed me I spotted a patisserie, I decided I needed another breakfast, that would help speed up the control time too I thought.  I climbed on through the centre of town until the road started to drop down to the control, I parked up quickly enough and controlled.
I decided it was time to change kit so I went straight to the toilets and multi-tasked, dealing with two issues at once, i thought I was being quick, I somehow took 55m over the Brest control despite spending all the time either next to my bike faffing or on the toilet.

Outbound Ride Stats:

Distance: 614km
Total Time: 38h 19m
Riding Average Speed: 21.4kmh
Moving time 28h 44m
Stopped Time 9h 35m
Sleep time: 1h 25m
RWGPS Link: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/39156669

---

Retour

Leg 10 - Brest to Carhaix: 
Distance: 84km
Time Taken: 5hrs 20m
Riding Average Speed: 19.8kmh
Time in Hand: 3h 27m

A Breton piper not playing

Wondering how I'd spent so long I rode out of the control, a rider asked me if we were crossing the bridge again as they hadn't stopped for a photo, I had to disappoint them, the route out of Brest was punctuated by traffic lights, heading North East along the river rather than back towards Plougastel.

I got to Sizun just before 1, a late lunchtime but as predicted. I went to the Patisierie again for a sandwich and cake, the villagers had put a marquee up and were serving drinks and cake; riders swarmed the various shops and Cafés and I wandered around taking pictures.  It was a long stop of 45 minutes, eating into my time in hand once added with the long stop at the control.

Somewhere on this section where the routes overlap, I approached a junction down hill, a marshal had stopped a group of riders on their way to Brest to much consternation as he waved me across the junction.

Sizun in daylight

Just after leaving Sizun I took the chance of a comfort break, as I stood next to the bike I saw a white jersey with black checks and yellow arms rise from the grass just up the road, I got back on the bike and rode up to the rider as he set off, "I thought I recognised a West Lothian Clarion Jersey" was my opener, I recognized the John too from the Galashiels qualifiers, we got talking and rode up the Roc together, I saw it this time of course and realized that there were houses all over it, even just off the summit.

For the return the road to Carhaix was a wide single carriageway but quite busy, thankfully the french drivers were mostly good though we were also passed by an Ambulance with motor cycle outriders, a slightly worrying occurrence particularly since there seemed to be a long gap in traffic to go with it.
I said goodbye to John as the hills got steeper and he was riding stronger on them, on the way through Carhaix an old tank engine stood at the side of the road and then I stopped at a bank to use their ATMs which required me to enter the bank, it was slightly odd staggering into a bank branch with its well dressed staff and customers.

Riders at Sizun

At the control I took 52 minutes, I must have eaten again after controlling.
As I prepared to leave the control a man stood watching riders walking in pointing people to the control, "Controle, Controle, Controle Allemange, Controlle Uni-Royalle, Controlle American" he spotted an Australian, "Australien.... Controlle Doping" and so he went on from there riders being chosen at "random" for the "Controlle Doping", every Australian and Russian got the Doping but no Frenchman.

Leg 11 - Carhaix to Loudeac:

Distance: 90km
Time Taken: 5h 10m
Riding Average Speed: 19.4kmh
Time in Hand at St Nicolas: 3h 52m
Time in Hand at Loudeac: 4h 15m

It was now the mid-afternoon, I left the spectator to his amusement. IT was another mostly uneventful leg, passing through the Breton countryside, the road rolling upwards and downwards rather than steadily rising and falling.

Riding through a forest

At St Nicolas du Pelem as I was anticipating the stop was the secret control again; the layout had been rejigged, now you rode into the bike check and then to exit for the facilities it you had to control.  I went into the café it wasn't as busy as the previous night and I got food quickly and sat at a table, a German rider asked me how I was getting on and how much sleep I'd had.  He struggled to understand my sleep deprived and garbled Fife-Scots-English mess of speech. I saw his confusion "Ein Studenen Funf and Vierzig Minuten", this helped. I'd finished eating so said "tschüß" and set off for my bike. As I walked back through the control the marshalls were making sure that no one missed the control to the point I was ready to show them the stamp in my Brevet card.  As I pushed the bike out the controller checked my bike number with my lid number and then said something I didn't understand. "huh", "Go!" I presume he said it was ok to go but even though it was just after 6pm it could have been an instruction to put on my hi-vis as some marshalls are overly insistent you put them on far too early. 17 minutes well spent, I don't know how I managed to be so fast this time.

Somewhere out of St Nicolas another rider passes me and says something about "Special dispensation" but I have no idea what he's on about but make an assumption it's to do with not yet having my Hi-Vis on, it is getting closer to night time now and I put my mesh Hi-Vis on at a comfort stop.

Climbing Roc Trevezal with John

I recognized Treve as I enter it and sure enough the Tabac is open, a handful of locals, I parked my bike against the decking's supports again but this time one of those gathered spoke to me.
"What do you want?"
"Coke" I said forgetting it's Coca
"That won't help you!"
"Sorry I mean Coca"
The Coca in Coca-Cola refers to the Coca leaf extract used in the original formulation, this extract does naturally contain some Cocaine in it, however it's apparently long been removed from the Coca-Cola formula.  Being wired on "coke" may have helped later in the night, but some of the other.side effects along with the long term effects wouldn't have made it a clever option.

I left the Tabac without anything from the shop as I knew I was coming to the control soon, I rolled into town past the railway yards and the café which was busy again.  Down into town and into the college grounds, the cyclo-cross section again being left side riding and I parked up.  Again it took some time to get through this control, it was busy again but the party wasn't quite as crazy in the square below.  Again I got stopped while waiting to cross to the control.  I decided again to find somewhere else, this time because I was fed up of control food.

Carhaix train

I spotted a Tabac with riders eating food at the tables but the food was from a takeaway down the road, I found the takeaway and scoured the menu, mexican chicken, perfect, "15 minutes, nom?" the woman gasped and grimaced as I said my name and handed me a bit of paper to write it on. Of course my name is from the Irish branch of Celtic and not the Brethonic, and one of the few that doesn't appear in Latin. As I waited another rider arrives, this time a Ukrainian, the gasp, grimmace and process was repeated.
15 minutes later I was sitting outside the takeaway eating the mexican chicken with my spork, I was gone by the time the Ukrainian. However it was worth the wait and extra time to eat as it was probably the best meal I had on the road.  My time in Loudeac was long at an hour and 10, but 3 hours was the comfort zone I wanted to work with so it was fine.

Leg 12 - Loudeac to Tinteniac:

Distance: 87km
Time Taken: 4h 25m
Riding Average Speed: 20.47kmh
Time in Hand passing Quedilliac: 3h 33m
Time in Hand at Tinteniac: 4h 16m
Sleep time: 3h

A church before night fall

I left the takeaway just after twenty past ten, I had no hint of tiredness, under the street lights all was good but as I entered the darkness I saw in my peripheral vision a well known sight, I could see my shadow.  This of course when there is no external light source strong enough to cast a shadow is impossible, however I can usually get rid of it my adjusting my glasses this worked.  A line of riders stretched out into the open country side, tail lights as far as I could see.  The road started to climb through some trees, the trees messed with my perception and I thought I was riding through a city with tall skyscrapers, the glass walls emitting lights way above me.

Some of them crossed over the road forming a tunnel, I rode through a village and it stopped and back out into the country side it started again, suddenly I was very tired and hallucinating.
The lights of La Cheze woke me up and I didn't stop despite seeing a church doorway and a bank lobby.  Exiting the village I was back in the urban jungle, lights high above me, I had to stop.

I spotted a junction with a sign I could lean the bike against and some grass I could lie down on.
I laid my bivvy bag out and set an alarm for 15 minutes and lay on the bag.
An hour later I woke up, I was freezing cold and shivering violently, I'd made a major mistake, I thought that not getting into the bag I'd wake up when I cooled down or the alarm went off, which ever came first, but instead I slept through the alarm repeatedly and the cooling.

Chaos at the Tinteniac bike park

I shivvered my way to the bike and looked at the clock, I'd lost a lot of time, I started to wonder what I was doing, then realized I needed to snap out of it and get going.  I looked at my mesh Hi-Vis and then the PBP Yellow one and realized I could help myself hold in more heat by wearing both at the same time.  This I figured from a newspaper article I once read about how Rab C Nesbits string vest worked, apparently the gaps in the string vest would trap warm air, if that was the case placing the solid vest over the string vest should allow a lot of warm air to get trapped.  It seemed to work.

Ten minutes on the road and I was riding through Plumieux, I saw riders sleeping in the warmth of bank lobbies and doorways, if only I'd known...  The distraction saw me take a wrong turn.
My tunnel of buildings didn't reappear so the hour must have done me good and knowing that I needed to make up time and remembering the outbound meal I didn't stop at Quedilliac.
I didn't know at the time that I'd already got an hour of my time in hand back, I got a near clean ride through to Tinteniac, an odd 1 minute stopped at the graveyard, it could have been a stand or a faff with something.
At Tinteniac the bike park was hoaching near the control but quiet at the far end, I knew it would mean more walking but I had worked out I was back up past 4 hours in hand.  I was very tired.

Tinteniac Food

I found the control and then looked for the toilets, I couldn't find them. I went up stairs and found myself at the self service restaurant and the food tempted me in.  Amazingly Robbie and Aidan were there, fresh as daisies from a 4 hour sleep. I spoke to them and in my memory Steve appeared as they were leaving however this is not the true sequence of events as there must have been a reasonable gap between the 2 as neither saw each other all ride. I ate my chicken and tatties, pain au chocolat and Paris-Brest pastry and then put my head down for 30 minutes.  I think it's this point Steve actually arrived, apparently I was still very sleepy. I decided to have another hour and a half on the floor.

Leg 13: Tinteniac to Fougeres: 

2h 54m, 20.2kmh
Distance: 54.4km
Time Taken: 2h 55m
Riding Average Speed: 20.2kmh
Time in Hand: 2h 27m

Riding out of Tinteniac as the sun rose

Morning was breaking as I left Tinteniac at 0650; the closing time was just after 8am, I only had an hour in hand, thankfully this was one of the easier sections and the average speed required between controls was really easing off now, down to 13kmh for this section.  Back through Dingé and Sens-De-Bretagne, At Saint-Hilaire des Landes a Boluangerie had a series of bikes stacked against the wall and a queue of riders in side, I stopped for breakfast. Fougeres arrived again with the chateau looming large, I had gained more than an hour but I spent most of it at the café again.  As I returned to my bike Darren and Finlay arrived, I spoke to them and discovered that Andy U had packed quite early on and was on the train back to Ramobuliet.

Leg 14 - Fougeres to Villaines:

 6h 14m, 18.8kmh
Distance:
Time Taken:
Riding Average Speed:
Time in Hand: 2h 12m

Levare

I'd been dreading the climb out of Fougeres since Tinteniac as I'd got them mixed up in my memory, it was a long slow start to the leg.  At La Tanniere the Crepe stall was open, as I stopped Michael rushed up to me to say Hi as he'd spotted my Saltire jersey and we got talking, he even sorted out the Crepe.  He handed me the slip with the address to send the postcard to unforutnately I managed to lose it somewhere later on.
At Levare, I'd spotted an old direction post on the way out and had to get a picture on the return, a local then offered to take a picture of me with it, how could I say no!

Ambriess

I carried on to Ambriess where having not recognized the town on the way in, I saw riders at a supermarket and stopped with them to eat for 20 minutes. However when I finished the descent into the town centre I saw that café again, I stopped intending to make it quick after the shop stop but I found myself stopped and speaking to James for half an hour as I ate yet more food.  James was in a later start time and was going well but wasn't sure about an injury that he was exacerbating.

At Loup-Fougeres the locals were out now but I was more interested in their decorations as being fed and watered I knew I'd get to Villaines Ok.

Into the control at Villaines

At Villaines the locals were out in force, after parking the bike on the street I walked through a sea of cheering locals up the steps to the hotel de ville where I got my card stamped and water bottles filled.
I decided not to stop again, it took 20 minutes just to negotiate the control and water supplt and then I rolled on into town where I got another bottle of Coca at a Tabac and then went to the Carefour Express, an English rider was looking into the sandwich cabinet and looking at me said "This is more like an AUK Control than the real one"; I agreed and picked at Sandwich and Ice Cream to eat outside.

Villaines party

I stood and watched riders for a bit longer than I should have too but kept the time to 40 mins.

Leg 15 - Villaines to Mortagne:

Distance: 84km
Time Taken: 5h 25m
Riding Average Speed: 20kmh
Time in Hand: 3h 34m
Sleep time: 1h 20m

Passing a velomobile on a climb

Setting off from the Carefour I had around an hour and a half in hand and would be riding into the night again, I remembered that both Villaines and Mortagne were at the top of hills so knew I'd be descending soon before climbing again.  Not far out of Villaines I was caught and passed by a VC167 rider Andy as the road turned upwards for a bit, I latched onto him with a bunch of other riders.

As we strung out behind him a tall rider twiddled past and then sat alongside Andy, Damon pulled out the video camera and started talking before recording him reciting some Laurence of Arabia. As this was happening another rider came up alongside me and looked to go through the gap so I put my hand out and said "Interview".  With the recording done Damon put the camera away and put a bit more power on and disappeared into the distance passing a long line of knackered riders seemingly effortlessly.

Velomobile back in front

I stopped for around 9 minutes at stall in La Hutte and then for 20 minutes at Sant-Calex-en-Saosnois for a sit down on an electrical cabinet and to put on my Hi-Vis set up again, I knew I was going well along here so felt I could take such breaks off the bike.

After darkness had closed in a small group of Americans from Washington state in group L passed me at a speed that seemed only marginally faster. These guys do Randonneuring in style, Robbie tells me it's part of American cycling culture, they rode classic steel bikes with classic styled leather bags and most importantly wore a classic Blue wool jersey with the words "Seattle Randonneurs" woven in block capitals, they just looked the part.

Interesting headwear

I'd come across them on a couple of occasions as they passed me and I passed them in various locations. Having seen them riding I knew they were good, and I cheekily hopped on the back for a bit.  As I followed them, a bright light shone in the distance, as we approached on a small climb it started to cause me problems, a rider  was working on his bike at the side of the road, from the front of the group came the words "Can you turn that light off so people can see please", very polite, I had been swallowing a "Gonnae no blind people ya ----". I thanked the rider on the front that.

At Mamers I spotted a cash machine and detoured to it so I had some money for the control at Mortagne.  I'd made up good time and gained 2 hours, when I got to there and I found everything had moved since the Sunday night, whats more I had to find the control, thankfully I found it inside the school building where everything had been moved to. It was very warm inside, once again I got myself a good feed and then remembering the previous night decided I had time to sleep here.  Most of the floor and table spaces were taken but I got 20 minutes with my head on the table and then decided I could take longer so went and found a nice spot on the floor that had just been vacated for another hour.

Leg 16 - Mortagne to Dreux: 

Distance: 77.5km
Time Taken: 4h 11m
Riding Average Speed: 20.4kmh
Time in Hand: 3h 33m
Sleep Time: 1h 15m

On the way to Mortagne

After sleeping for so long I had just over an hour in hand when I woke, I had a bit of a wander around and then as I was preparing to leave I saw Kenny, Finlay, Darren and Tony getting ready to leave too.  They'd also had a sleep but had arrived about an hour after me, I spoke to them and learnt that since we met at Fougeres Mark H had packed, I decided to join them and waited for Darren to faff as he got ready to go.  It was another cold night, my original plan at Mortagne had actually been to snooze next to the bike for a few minutes before riding to Dreux but had abandoned that idea after popping out to the bike briefly and feeling the chill.

Eventually we were all ready to go and rode down the hill, I was speaking to Kenny as we went, but after a while Kenny realized that Finlay wasn't keeping up so dropped back as they'd agreed to ride together.
Having only just joined them and being on a tighter schedule I decided to crack on alone.
The heat of the control had dehydrated me and despite the chill night I had used up most of my bottles in the first 30km.  As I rolled through Neuilly-sur-Eure I saw that the Patisierie and Tabac had a stall out at the roadside, so I bought a bottle of coca and one of powerade to refill my bottles then added a light breakfasts to the menu.

Another from the road to Mortagne

In Senoches there was a marquee set up with locals filling drinks bottles and offering seats and tea, I took a tea and sat down, I didn't doze off after the tea so knew I was good to go on.  The rollers had stopped and I could see the road ahead clearly, it felt flat but in reality was marginally down, as I rode through the night a rider from New Hampshire called Eric passed me on a really nice Blue and Yellow steel framed bike, as he passed I said I liked his bike, I was expecting a breif thanks but he was up for talking, he was in an 84 hour group and was hoping to set his best time, I found I could keep his pace so we talked as we rode through the night. WE rode into Dreux together and I said goodbye there as I knew that with the time he wanted to set he wouldn't be long at the control.

Dreux

The Dreux control had a long walk between the bike park and the control which was in the space under the terracing of a sports stadium, this also meant there was decent changing and toilet facilities though the food was average.  I knew I could have bounced the control but I wanted to finish in daylight, so after eating I got my head down for some more sleep.

Leg 17 - Dreux to Ramobulliet: 

Distance: 44km
Time Taken: 2hrs 11m
Riding Average Speed: 20.5kmh
Time in Hand: 3h 21m

I woke just before 7 giving me 5 hours to ride the last 44km, the ride out of Dreux involved a couple of stiff climbs and traffic lights where I found myself riding with a group of riders from the south of England out of town and into the sunrise.
The morning mist hung low on the ground, the air was chill and the speed was decent as we rode along the flatland, at Faverolles and Poingy there were execuses to stop but I didn't take them.  THe riders I'd kept up with on the flat dissappeared up the hill into the forest.  The forest seemed to take forever to ride through, but eventually I reached the junction with the road into Ramboulliet.
The cobbles came but the gate wasn't open, the arrows pointed into town, riders stood by the side of the road confused as to how to get in, I just looked for signs and saw the route in was the same as for bike check.  Riders and spectators stood in small groups beside the motorhomes clapping, marshals pointed me up the hill and onto the gravel track, I thought I passed a timing station and then through an arch. A mass of riders stood over the road and a marshal was pointing me into the courtyard, a bizzare wee loop took me through the real timing finish but it wasn't over yet.

Pete took a picture of me as wheeled my bike
in/

I was pointed into the bike park and told the control was in the Marquee... 4 different finishes?!

Pete was wheeling his bike out of the park having finished in the early hours of the morning had had a decent sleep and was looking rather chipper, I was well...

I staggered across the field to the marquee and into the Brevet stamping station, the controller took my card and handed me a finishers medal and explained when I should get the brevet card and then looked at me and said,
"Ah you're from Scotland l'Ecosse, Oui?",
"Oui",
"Beautiful country"
He paused and then said "so this was just as you say a Wee Ride",
"Aye just a wee ain"

Pete had a good sleep after finishing the early morning

Retour Stats:

Distance: 612km
Total Time: 47h 26m
Riding Average Speed: 19.8kmh
Moving time: 30h 50m
Stopped Time: 16h 35m
Sleep time: 5h 35m
RWGPS: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/39156700

Overall Stats
Distance: 1225km
Total Time: 86h 32m (chip time)
Riding Average Speed: 20.6kmh
Moving time: 59h 34m
Stopped Time: 27h 5m
Sleep time: 6h 50m
RWGPS: https://ridewithgps.com/trips/39156327

Graeme and Rob at the start

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Aftermath

After leaving the control I bumped into Lucy who said she and Dick were about to eat with the VC167 riders in the marquee, so I went and joined them, though just as Lucy arrived we were kicked out as hogging tables with so many riders finishing wasn't on!

I left the marquee and messaged Robbie from a phone with next to no battery left to see where he was, he'd been at the Bergerie overnight as he'd finished very early in the morning and slept in a corridor he'd found.  I tried to explain where I was and he tried to explain where he was but that didn't work, so I found a spot under a tree in the sun, placed my Hi-Vis as a pillow and went to sleep.

Well earnt Sleep

After sleeping I was just preparing to leave the Bergerie whne I saw Robbie and Dean standing at the "finish" arch cheering on arriving riders, so I hauled myself over and soon more VC and Scottish riders were joining us.  A good little group of us congregated after finishing, Esmond arrived and as he sat against the hedge started pondering how much the spectators meant their "Bon Routes" and "Bon Chances" and how much we were just their entertainment. I was a bit too tired for such deep thought so returned to cheering on finishing riders.

A Seattle Randonneur

Riders become Spectators

Assessment

Seeing these stats is slightly dissapointing, it shows I could have been faster, I spent just under 7h out of 20h stopped asleep.  If I hadn't faffed so much at the controls I believe I could have finished much sooner or got more sleep which also leads itself to being faster.
Although part of that is because when I got to Dreux I chose to wait until day break to set off so that I finished in daylight and therefore with people around, had I carried on from Dreux the question is would I have finished in the same time and so been almost 2 hours faster or was it the sleep that allowed me to ride the last speed at that pace?

Further to that, I've seen my average speed drop significantly through the year, I have not been working on hard efforts, not been working on climbing hills, not been working on hanging onto groups. I think by chasing 100 Audax UK Points and RRTYs I've altered my riding in a manner that is ultimately detrimental on longer Brevets where speed earns you sleep, so for next time I'm going to approach the year differently.

I write these blogs partly to remind myself of what I've done, but also to look for lessons learnt, so in 2022 as I pre-qualify for 2023 I hope I read back over this and set up a different season structure so I can see how well I can ride.

Paris - Brest - Paris 1200 and a bit more: 13 to 27th August 2019 - Part 1 Getting there

On the 5th of December 1560, Francis II of France, King Consort to Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots died of an ear ache.  One of the plot twists of European history had taken place, France and Scotland's personal and pending political union unwound, the reformation took hold, the union with England was forced and the enlightenment happened leading to many Scottish (and North British) figures of international acclaim entering the annuals of history.

Despite the latter the chances of me speaking French plummeted,. on my first day of Secondary School in 1993 the chances of this became nill as I met Mr Grove, my German teacher for the first time, he taught us German as speakers of a mix of English and Scots, this of course is not so critical to the course of European history.

Paris - Brest - Paris is one of the oldest cycling event still taking place with the first edition a profesional road race in 1891, the format has changed over the years, the professional race was combined with an amateur race and a Touriste class was introduced, the touriste class became a UAF format Audax and due to a disagreement an ACP format Randonnée with Vedette, Randoneur and Touriste classes was introduced.  The UAF and ACP events continue to this day while the race ended in the 1960s due to a lack of interest from riders.

It was in the touriste class that I entered the 2019 Paris-Brest-Paris Randonnée with 90hrs to ride the 1219km route from Ramboulliet to Brest and back, ardent readers of this blog will have read about my exploits in pre-qualification and qualification, along with much extra work towards Audax UK points and ACP homologations for awards, medals and cloth badges.

In homage to the first edition of the race the French invented a cake in the shape of a bike wheel called a "Paris-Brest", I didn't sample as many of these as I may have liked.

The first challenge posed was how to get to Ramboulliet in the first place; the most sensible would appear to be riding down to Edinburgh, boxing my bike up and placing it in the hands of the baggage handlers while I sat on a thin metal tube hurtling through the sky to Charles De Gaul airport.
However I have a some issues with the concept of air travel, namely I'm not in charge and I can't rationalize the not being in charge part of it... or in other words the part where if anything goes wrong you're stuffed.

Due to various pricing issues with the trains and Robbie deciding to travel my way, the transport plan became this:
Travel up to Aberdeen to catch the sleeper at 2145 on a Wednesday evening, (Travelling from Dundee/Leuchars costs the same on the sleeper so the £10 advanced fare to Aberdeen seemed worth it for the extra time in the lounge carriage)
Arrive in London early doors on the Thursday, spend some time in London, get a train to Portsmouth for the night ferry to Ouistream, then ride a 200km DIY to Ramobulliet.
The return would be pretty much the reverse but splitting the ride north over 2 days.

This plan included back up time and options, if I had a bike issue at the last minute I could sort it and catch the sleeper at Dundee or Leuchars, if there was train issues in the South we could ride to Portsmouth, if the ferry was late well it didn't matter we would get to Ramboulliet a bit later.

As it turned out I had both bike and train problems...

Double Headed 73s on the sleeper at Aberdeen

I'd been watching my train north's arrival time at Dundee slipping slowly backwards but it was still showing as being well within time to catch the sleeper at Aberdeen, I'd tested the bike out, loaded it unloaded it, reloaded it really just getting impatient for heading on. Eventually I saw the train had left Edinburgh and was predicted to be in Aberdeen with 40mins to spare before the sleeper left, perfect for getting on board straight away.

As I reached the first climb from the house I realized my Di2 wasn't working, I stopped and checked the battery level, it claimed to be flat.  I plugged the charger in and everything fired up so I carried on to the station.  I tested the system again with the charger off on arrival and discovered it was still "flat", I contemplated darting home and switching bikes but decided against it even though I had a good 3 hours to get the Genesis ready, swap my shoes and get to Leuchars for the sleeper.  My train drifted ever backwards in the schedule.

Two Scotrail services arrived first, but I was on an advance ticket so was limited to the cross-country service, I was messaging Robbie about the Di2 problem and we decided the best solution would be to pack his Di2 diagnostics kit and find a laptop or bikeshop that could look at it in the morning.

My train arrived and they promptly announced that they couldn't make up time due to being behind the Scotrail service, national rail enquiries predicted an arrival time around 20 minutes before the sleepers departure, I made plans to bail out at Stonehaven (the sleepers first stop) and told Robbie who was now on the sleeper partaking in the facilities of the lounge car, he informed the guard of my predicament who was fine with the Stonehaven on Aberdeen options.

Riding through Normandy

We departed Stonehaven and National Rail reckoned I'd be in with 20 mins to spare but the guard of the train reckoned it'd be 15 minutes. This was getting tight any more delays and I would be working on a plan for the next day. We stopped just short of the platforms at Aberdeen, my heart beat faster, I don't need this!  It was only to allow another train off the platform but I'd only just made it to Aberdeen in time, with 10 minutes to spare I was hanging my bike in the guards van with the guard "congratulating" me for making it in time.  I slumped in the seat across from Robbie and ordered a glass of coke.   "At least you'll be able to claim on Delay/Repay"

I don't sleep too well anywhere unusual and although I drifted in and out of sleep as we hurled back through Angus, Fife and over the Forth Bridge. I got up and had a look out of the train at Edinburgh, due to a landslip near Crianlarich the Fort William carriages had been hauled from Aberdeen with two class 76 locomotives and passengers from the West Highlands were due to board here, no one was around and I returned to bed and drifted off, waking briefly on the way over either Beattock or Shap.

London Lorne Sausage

On disembarking from the guards van at Euston I checked the Di2 was still faulty and then started to prepare it for operating from the battery pack, oddly it started working normally when I went to demonstrate it to Robbie, must have been all that shoogling on our antiquated rail network..
We decided we'd still try and get diagnostics run on it and headed for the "Look mum no hands!" bike shop and café on Old Street for a proper breakfast.  Robbie led the way through London and he was soon tucking in to what I declare to be the London equivalent of a Lorne and Egg Roll, Avocado and poached egg on toast... We spent an hour or 3 here while the shop team ran diagnostics on my bike, finding nothing wrong in the process, odd.
Following this lazy breakfast we went for a short ride around London looking for the Rapha store, before aiming for Waterloo.




On arriving at Waterloo I noticed my front light was no longer working, Robbie got stuck into the heatshrink to find the solder had failed on my SON Co-Axial connector, taking my soldering failure rate to 100% on these connectors.
A solution was soon jury rigged using gorilla tape while I bought some Percy Pigs for the journey.
I noted I wanted some spades and electrical tape in case it failed again during PBP and started looking for electrical repair shops and on failing to find one that would be open on arrival in Portsmouth I settled for Halfrauds who I know have such things in their radio department.

In Portsmouth we set off for Halfords where I obtained suitable connectors and electrical tape while Robbie realized he'd left his charger and cable in the socket on the train and paid an extortionate amount for a usb cable.
We then set off for the pub where a meet up of YACF posters had been decided on, the drink was cheap and the food was also suspiciously cheap, we hummed and hawed until long after the kitchen had closed, so we headed to the chain pub up the road for the typical fayre served there.  To add insult to injury a pigeon dropped its guts on me thankfully after I'd finished eating.

Baie de Seine waiting to get underway ahead of us

As darkness fell we rode into the ferry port, other riders some off for a long weekend or weeks long tour, as well as a couple of others heading for PBP congregated in the ferry queue, Robbie and I were picked for "random" customs and security checks while others were waved through, bags off and pockets emptied to go through the scanners.  A long wait ensued as the ferry was late and we watched the disembarkation process, every wave of cars and lorries making us question if it was our turn to board soon, but often it proved just to be the mezzanie decks being lowered.

Finally on board we were presented with a cleaning crew hurriedly trying to get cabins ready for the tired masses wanting their beds, for 2 hours it seemed they called us to stay out cabins but as we found our cabin clean and empty we snuck in.
As is customary for me I went out on deck to see us get underway and follow Baie De Seine, the Le Havre "Economy" ferry setting sail down the Solent ahead of us, I stood out on deck a while until we were almost out at sea where we also passed a cruise ship at anchor off the Isle of Wight before taking my berth.

As mentioned before I'm not a great sleeper and the motion of the ferry and the changes in engine note had me awake and wandering the deserted decks on a number of occasions.

Pegasus Bridge Mk2

In the morning we were off the ship for 7am and hungry for breakfast, Keith from the pub joined us, he'd been learning French for the trip but froze when the proprietor asked us what we wanted, Robbie managed to indicate we wanted Petite Dejuner with the French nouns he claims to be all he can remember, and then discovered I learnt German at school when he asked how I didn't know any french.

After breakfast Keith left us for Caen to get the train southbut Robbie and I had formulated our DIY 200s to collect some Audax UK points, after much humming and hawing over the route I had us riding through Troarn, Fervaques and Houdan before splitting, Robbie to his hotel in Trappes and I to Ramboulliet.

Having only ridden on the right in the Netherlands and in Copenhagen before, I got my first proper taste of riding on the "wrong" side of the road as we zipped along the Caen canal towards Pegasus bridge, a critical point in the D-Day operations, 3 gliders were crash landed near here and fought off the Nazi guard to gain control allowing the advancing troops arriving on the beaches to make their way towards Paris.

One of the more ornate water towers

We stopped briefly to read the memorials before heading on for Troarn, despite this appearing to be a small sleepy village there is a large SuperU hyper market on the edge of town, the town centre is full of small shops, including a Patisserie however as we'd had breakfast in Ouistream the purpose of routing this was was gone and we carried on through the french countryside, passing through small villages, Robbie pointed out a couple of Mairie offices, the commune mayor who is responsible for a number of functions including which priority system should be in place on the commune's roads.  Department roads were mainly set up with priority routes and side roads with give way or stop instructions, while in many of the villages Prioritie a' Droit remains in place forcing you to watch out for turning traffic at junctions.





We rode on through Normandy as the day woke, I'd made the route to avoid some of the bigger towns on the way, hoping for suitable respite in the smaller towns, the first of these after Troarn was in Fervaques where little was on offer, Robbie reminded me that France shuts down for lunch just before Midday and doesn't wake until 3pm; I started to worry about lunch.

Brogile

As chance would have it as we dropped into a village the road split round a picturesque Mairie's office, beside us were a Butchers and a Brasserie with people sitting out eating filled baguettes and other simple dishes.
We knew Broguile was the time and place to stop, Robbie translated the menu then went and checked they were still serving, thankfully all was good and we ordered then sat out next to the bikes eating our baguettes between the mayors office and the church while the sun shone, and locals shopped at the butchers and the patisserie on the other side of the square.
We decided I should get a baguette from the patisserie for later, I noted the price of pre-filled ones was considerably more than in the Brasserie and took a large plain one, knowing that the left over jam from breakfast was going to come in handy along with a rather tasty looking chocolate eclair.
As I returned to the bikes Graham who had been at the pub appeared, his route was essentially the same as ours so he decided to calm his pace and join us.  He'd gone to Caen to get supplies straight from the ferry before heading south and had been riding quite a bit faster than us to catch up.

One of many villages on route

We rode into La Barre-en-Ouche, the tabacs and restaurants were shut, the town felt deserted, more pretty villages devoid of facilities and locals passed, only 2 hours and 46km later we rode into Damville, Graham went looking to see if a Patisierie was open but he didn't find anywhere, we sat in the town square and are the baguettes and jam. I popped into the Tabac to look for sweets and juice, while Robbie spotted a tap to refill our drinks bottles.
Graham having found he patisseries and creperies to be closed so settled for something from his bag.
As we prepared to leave I spotted a sign pointing through a narrow close to the Hotel De Ville and went to investigate, discovering another town square and another group of shops and café, also mostly closed.

Lunch 2 in Damville

I caught up with Robbie and Graham at the top of the climb out of town, we were back out into the fields of hay, cubiods of hay were stacked in the fields, occasionally acting as wind breaks, concrete water towers rose from the fields at the summits, mostly ugly and brutal, some however were painted.  Small villages in the fields passed, a larger town and then we were in the forest, north of Dreux.

We reached Bu, a sign pointed us round the town but I'd mapped a route through, we found the one way system ran against the mapping, we struggled to figure it out before taking to our feet to get into the town centre where we found a Boulangerie for some more sustenance.
At Houdan the routes split by the church, Robbie headed on to Trappes while Graham and I headed south through the forest to Ramboulliet where we'd be based for the couple of days before the start of the ride to Brest and back.

Longtown Way Round 300 - 27 July 2019

I saw this ride in the calendar later into the season than most of my planning.
I'd already ridden the Tyneside 200 and 600, and had entered the late season 400 a few days before the 600. With failing to complete the Scottish Borders SR series and an Ecosse SR Series dependent on fitting the Twilight 600 DIY in before the seasons end I realized the 300 would allow me to complete the Tyneside SR series.

The route was designed as a relatively gentle loop of the border, starting off from Ponteland and riding up to Alston Moor before plunging down to Longtown then winding over the border to Newcastleton for the only other "big" climb of the day over to Hawick followed by a valley spin in Teviot Dale towards Crailing where it picked up the regular route to Wooler via Morebattle; finishing with a bumpy ride through Northumberland to Ponteland via Alnwick. It looked ideal for the wind down before PBP, it looked an enjoyable day out and I dared to whisper, it looked fairly easy... So I signed up.

The forecast had been wet, very wet, in fact it was impossibly wet, 18mm of rain over 3 hours in the middle of the Scottish borders? Nah you'll never get "that" much rain in a maritime climate and it's warm, so I packed for light to moderate rain and set off down the road after work.

The Hardy Few

Andy hauled a large stack of brevet cards from his bag and proclaimed he had 61 entries, a scan of the room confirmed there was going to be a lot of riders DNS. I counted 16 present but there was apparently another 6 lurking somewhere.
The forecast was thankfully showing a more reasonable 3mm at worst, admittedly still wet enough to be unpleasant but skin's waterproof and the temperature was to be in double figures all day!

By some measures I'd hardly ridden since the 1000, just a few short local rides mostly of the steady paced form, trying to keep the fitness ticking over without overdoing it.  Summer had arrived and the heat was destroying my sleep pattern, in the hotel  I hung off the end of the bed trying to catch the blast from the large industrial fan as well as some sleep, it wasn't particularly successful.






I dithered at the start, and set off near last on the flattish run towards Corbridge, I know this road from earlier in the year and expected to be skimming along at a decent flat land pace, I wasn't I was struggling to hold over 20km on a road that I've ridden at 27kmh in a pack, my heart rate wasn't picking up either, well rested as I believed I was I should easily lift my HR into the 170s on the climbs and have to force myself to back off but I was stuck in zone 2, was it the lack of sleep? Was something else wrong? My ears had blocked up during the week and my rhinitis was restricting my nose breathing and sense of smell.
Could it be a cold coming on?  I worried as I climbed through the rain towards Alston Moor.

Yeuch

In Hexham I passed another rider who was hunkered down behind an electrical cabinet trying to shelter as best as possible from the rain as he fixing a puncture.
As I left town the rain seemed to ease but the further world was obscured by a light mist, further numbing my senses.  The rider passed me not long out of town and disappeared into the mist as it closed in with elevation.  I saw a rider in the distance, a dark silhouette in the whiteness, they got closer, I was catching!  My mood picked up, I can't be riding that badly if I'm catching someone.
As I got closer I realized it was the tandem with Peter and Amanda on it, on previous flatter rides I've generally been just ahead of them on the road, was the climb balancing things out or was I just starting to wake up?






I climbed into the mist, eventually a county march sign stood out at the side of the road proclaiming my entry to Cumbria, a larger sign behind it advising I was on Alston Moor, the hill eased and then flattened.  The mist was close, the air was closer, I was warm but soaked and about to start the descent on wet and greasy roads into Alston. I cawed canny possibly too much, pulling out of a couple of over length braking lines a tad late and discovering there was probably enough grip to corner a bit faster, but there was no need for speed now.

Alston Moor

Alston was different from what I'm used to, other rides I've done have come down from Yad Moss or up from Slaggyford.  The descent eased and then a sharp ramp took me past the "other" petrol station and then over the junction for a short descent to the Audax petrol station.  There was a lot of bikes still sitting there so I realized I couldn't have been that far behind after all, there was even a good bunch of riders eating and drinking outside.  I started looking for Robbie's bike, I found it sans-Robbie, he can't have been that far ahead at all I thought.  I entered the shop and made a beeline for the hot food cabinet, dripping my way through the shop if there was anything warm left I wanted it; John and Robbie were stood there eating pastries trying to dry off, a futile effort as they were only going to go back out into the rain.

I took a sausage roll and danish pastry, nearly forgot my receipt thankfully the shopkeeper knows the score and reminded me I needed one!  When I left the shop it had dried out and the sun was threatening to make a showing.  John and Robbie reappeared as I finished my brunch, and suggested I try and stick with them on the descent.  I set off with some hope I would manage to keep up on the initial rise but they disappeared into the distance and I needed a quick comfort break anyway.

I know the descent to Longtown well, it's not as good a plunge as it feels it should be as there's a sharp descent with tricky corner that drops a good amount of the hill very quickly before levelling out and then there's the descent from Hallbankgate to Brampton which is broken up by the Level Crossing and the Brampton bypass.  A train whizzed by as I approached the crossing but in the wet I wasn't chancing it on crossing the lines and slowed to a crawl to take them square on which requires a dive across the lane, the driver of the car behind seemed to understand.  I also missed a gap on the bypass and had to wait a bit.

The glut of riders that had been in Alston were now standing outside the pie shop in Longtown, but I'd just had a hot pie of sorts so went for a Spar sandwich, Robbie wanted a better receipt so came round to say hello, he'd been there 10 minutes.  They set off again, though only Robbie took the advertised route thanks to him planning to ECE the 315 to 400 afterwards and so needing to stick to a mandatory route.

New roads are always good and this ride presented some new ones, rather than take the A7 out of town we took the country roads over Longtown Moor, the roads were smooth but greasy and I was cawing canny again, a tricky series of hairpins in the woods that looked like they would be fun in the dry were taken with the utmost caution, I picked up a follower along here, I expected him to pass me on the way into the corners by he stayed behind and then dropped back on the climbs, the road wound its way to the Kershopefoot crossing of the Liddel water into Scotland and then rolled into the border village of Newcastleton.

I've been here a handful of times before, on two occasions it was passing through to get to mountain bike trails, the first of those times Al and I were heading for Kielder and the second it was to the Newcastleton "stane" in the motorhome to meet Alex.  I've also been on holiday here, twice staying at a caravan park at the old station, back then I remember every shop appearing to be proprieted by a Ewart, now the shop ownerships appear to be more diverse, but there was no light eminating from any of them despite the doors being open.
However at the Spar and Post Office the staff were standing outside, the rain was off but so too was the electricity, I got a timed post office stamp as a substitute for a receipt and opted to carry on rather than faff with change for a bottle of water. Hawick isn't far.

The 30km over Wauchope into Teviotdale shows just how remote Newcastleton is, a stones throw from the border to the south, another hill pass takes you to Langholm to the west, north east is another road over Wauchope that takes you to the road between Hawick and Carter's Bar at Bonchester Bridge.

The Northbound climb of Wauchope was a river, water streamed across and down the metalled surface presenting pretty patterns to distract me from the climb, in parts it follows the old Border Union railway with many of the bridges, tunnels and viaducts still intact, arguments are being made to reopen the line, but counterarguments are made that a line from Galashiels to Hawick and on to Carlisle effectively goes through nothing and linking to Berwick or Newcastle would connect more of the borders population.

Climbing Wachope at Whitrope summit

As I climbed under a bridge I thought I saw a Leyland National bus sitting on the embankment, as the abutment cleared from my field of vision I saw a tatty old Mk3 Carriage and then other railway machinery.  The "bus" turned out to be the experimental Pacer style single carriage Diesel Railbus RB004 a small group hoping to turn the lonely Whitrope summit into a "Waverly Route" Heritage centre.







On the descent the road joined the Slitrig Water which was in spate, a brown torrent tumbling towards Hawick to join the Teviot which was in similar state.  On the descent I remembered the local motorcycle racer Steve Hislop, 39 Isle of Man TT races, 11 TT wins and first to beat 120mph plus plenty of other races and palmarés, and then I remembered where I was and who I was with when I saw the news of the helicopter crash that killed him.

I wasn't sure of the layout of the town and I seemed to pass the wrong end of the High Street, I carried on in hope that there was a suitable Supermarket, thankfully I was soon spoilt for choice with a Lidl, Aldi and Sainsbury's on the road out of town.  I opted for the Sainsbury's and had a quick look in the café which was lacking a decent food selection at this time of day, so it was off to the sandwich cabinet which didn't inspire much, but the bakery still had some decent wares left so I had a high tea of pastry and chocolate beside my bike.  The rain was still off but the sky was threatening.

The road to Wooler

I was sweltering in my showerproof and arm warmers, but I could see more rain in the sky so I kept it on.  The country road out of Hawick soon links to the regular Borders route from Ancrum to Morebattle via Nisbet, Robbie appeared from nowhere behind me, startling me for amusement before shooting on.  He had gone to Morrison's and waited an age for a lacklustre cooked meal, I realized I hadn't sat down since leaving Ponteland.  Now that may sound daft, I'm sitting on my saddle on my bike all day, but my feet are still working, they are still stuffed into wet shoes, in wet socks and being asked to push against a small contact patch, I needed to put my feet up, but out here in the countryside, in the wet and wanting to get back at a reasonable time, there was no chance to rest.

At Morebattle I checked to see if anyone had gone into the Templehall, but not a bike was leant against the wall. At Town and Kirk Yetholms people milled around outside the pubs as the rain was still off but no bikes were to be seen. 
I crossed a bridge as a flock of cows exited their field and surrounded me, I kept pedalling in the hope they'd part, some stopped, others looked for an exit, but others kept running.
I thought back to being surrounded by cows on a footpath near home and how terrifying they are, then of the time my brother and his driver met cows mid-rally stage, and the state of the car that hit one a few minutes later.

I kept going at a gentle pace, hoping the 3 cows still ahead of me would find a way off the road, one's bowels decided they needed evacuated thankfully not directly in front of me.  I looked back and saw another cow following, starting to run.  My bowels metaphorically evacuated in dissatisfaction with the situation, and then thankfully a gap appeared in front of me as two of the cows thought they saw a way off the road.  I gave it a kick and they were soon behind me, I started looking for a house or farm to report the cows to, I didn't see one.  A car approached and I waved at them to stop... they didn't but they had their window down so I shouted "Cows" at them and hoped the driver didn't think I was shouting abuse.

The excitement abated and I followed this well travelled road into Wooler where I decided it was tea time, despite the late hour the co-op was well stocked and the staff member on the counter was curious as to where I'd been riding, he was suitably impressed with the fact I'd ridden from Newcastle and that I'd set off at 7am, I suspect he doesn't know where Longtown is but seemed unfazed by my reckoning that I'd get back around midnight.  I returned to the bike where a couple of locals were looking at it discussing my set up, though they never asked me any questions.  I considered sitting on the only bench in sight but it was soaking, even though my chamois was also soaked I didn't feel like adding any more wetness to it, my feet would just have to ache a bit longer.

The main road out of Wooler was quiet, signs teased a distance to Newcastle shorter than I knew I had to go and I soon turned off onto minor roads across country to Alnwick, more roads I know from other rides, the hill profile had a couple of small bumps then a big one, I knew the big one was the climb out of Alnwick, and knew it was only big because it was all that was left on the ride.

I stopped to get a cash machine balance print out at Alnwick as another rider locked his bike up to go shopping.  I knew I didn't need anything more than I was carrying with only 50km to go and I kidded myself I could get some speed up and treat this last bit like an evening ride after work.

I was now in the busiest traffic of the day, and even then it was pretty quiet, the odd hot hatch driver hammering it up the hill in 2nd to impress the easily impressed on their way to McDonalds.

Darkness

It was getting dark now and the wet roads made visibility tricky under tree cover even though my lights on.  I lost rough bits of road in the shadows, dry patches altered my vision, my night glasses steamed up irreversibly. Hearing, Smell, Taste and Vision all inflicted, my sense of touch was still working though, my hands and feet hurt from being asked to work in these conditions.
Shillbottle never ceases to confuse me, I always manage to take the wrong road, but never go the wrong way; I corrected the error by turning round and then getting confused again by the two roads round the central common; before realizing where I was and that I do this every time.

I was alone in the dark, the roads were empty, the air misty and wet, I couldn't hear the rustling of the trees or the wildlife, I started to worry about deer.  I realized that the nights are drawing in, it was hardly 11 and it was dark and noted to check what time it gets dark at home now.  My hope of returning by midnight was slipping, but the maths kept me entertained as I rode.  I got confused again, I couldn't remember if I needed to control in Morpeth or not, I nosed the bike into a bus shelter to avoid getting my brevet card soaked as I confirmed I didn't need to.

The bypass was surprisingly quiet and I got straight over the roundabout, down the hill and nothing tried to pass me, a handful of taxis were darting around as I started the climb out of town; 300km ridden, 16hrs 20m, not what I'd been hoping for.

15km back and it's practically flat, 40 minutes to midnight, I just need to average 22kmh but I can see I'm too slow, that flatness from the morning was clearly still present and I got back to the hall at 8 minutes past midnight.  Robbie was sitting there and straight up said he wasn't doing the ECE, and then suggested rather than drive straight up the road we should try phoning the airport hotels to see if there was a room; thankfully there was.

Fort William 1000 - 5th to 8th July 2019

Schiehallion from the Caravan, what better a view to relax and recover to?

I've taken myself to my parents' caravan on Loch Tummel, looking out on a majestic view of the loch and Schiehallion beyond, I can still feel the shape of SPD-SL cleats in the balls of my feet, in my hands I can feel the imprint of my bars which I've held onto for 50 hours out of the last 71 riding and the friction burns of my slightly oversized gloves on my hands where dry skin flakes off.  My legs don't ache too much and I walk around with reasonable ease suggesting I've prepared myself well for this with the amount of riding leading up to this point.
Other than the occasional walk around the caravan to cook or take a photo of the mountain beyond I've limited my exercise to putting DVDs in the player and lifting books from the table, I'm in static recover mode, this is the last big ride before the big ride in France.

From now except for a 300km in Northumberland and a 200km DIY my hopes are to find some speed, lose some weight and improve my climbing, I also have to do a complete checkover and repair of the bike, there's only four weeks until I'll be boarding the sleeper to London to start the journey to Ramboulliet for Paris-Brest.

Prior to the Blackpool-Glasgow 600 ride last year I entered a Blackpool-Fort William 1000, I realized at the time that if I wanted to do the 1000, which I reckoned would be a "good idea" prior to PBP then it made sense to enter before I was reminded of the horrors of the B7076 through Dumfries and Galloway.  That road is known for it's washed out tar leaving the aggregate sticking out and slowly but surely shaking you and your bike to pieces.

Touristing on the sea front

Robbie and I met up on the train to Edinburgh on the Thursday, a happy accident as my original plan involved booking space on an Aberdeen Scotrail service as a back up to hopping on one of the unbookable Arbroath trains.  I can do this from Leuchars because an Off-Peak Return is only marginally more expensive than advanced tickets; unfortunately I forgot that I would be travelling on the Thursday only remembering as I approached the station to collect the tickets.

Last minute fettling at the dinner table

A quick phone call to Scotrail the following day in the remote sales cooling off period and I was sorted with a ticket for the earlier XC train that Robbie was on; at Edinburgh we picnic'ed on the platform as we waited for the Trans-Pennine train towards Manchester Airport and watched the airport bound passengers arrive with their flight cases and happy moods. After a change of train at Preston we arrived at St Annes-On-the-Sea early enough to go for a quick explore before discovering that Robbie's new seat post needed friction paste in the mechanism, thankfully we caught the local bike shop just in time and he sorted that before a distinctly average tea at the pub.

At the Scout Hut people arrived through the evening, many were staying in the accommodation there and others who were staying in nearby hotels popped in to say hello, a couple from Colorado riding a tandem with asynchronous drive-train piqued curiosity as they hurriedly set up their navigation devices with mapping and route.

In the morning the hall was packed with breakfasters by the time I was up and about, the 8am start was sociable though this would mean riding through or dodging rush hour traffic on the way north.  An Irishman had lost his wallet and passport, people offered to help him out on the way north but he had decided to pack at Paisley, though I don't see why as I'm sure people would have seen him through and being Irish he doesn't need a passport to be in England and Scotland anyway.

Waiting for the start

I had been discussing route options on YACF and decided on a slightly longer route out to Carnforth than the route sheet based on the Lakes Velo Easter Arrow Route that I knew would be reasonably quiet, when we set off I was near the front with Robbie and Aiden and I was waiting to see how many riders would carry straight on at the lights for the route sheet's suburban route and how many would turn off to skirt through the countryside; of the riders in front of me only 2 carried straight on, a sudden feeling of responsibility briefly crossed me before realizing that they couldn't all know about the bridge toll.


In the group we hurtled through the Fylde countryside and onwards to the north but somewhere near Glasson Dock Aiden made a call to pull over and let the long line of traffic behind us past, the front of the group pulled in but the message wasn't passed down and the back hurtled on, I pulled over having realized what was happening and the group was split; we carried on at speed but I was now on the back of a small group, a sharp rise put space between us on the way into Lancaster and I was on my own, the traffic lights and traffic only helping to make the gap bigger.

Climbing Shap

As I left Lancaster a second group started to pass, "Big group passing" was the call, "I'm getting on if I can" was my response, I wasn't letting this go to waste; a good sized group towing me to Carnforth was just what I needed, my pace was back to being decent however they pulled off towards Tesco.
I carried on, preferring the truck stop shop for my control. I passed Aiden and 2 other riders who had chosen the town bike shop as their control, the owner was appreciating Aiden's Barrow Trike as I passed.




At the truck stop Robbie was just leaving the shop as I arrived and he said he'd hang around for me, I grabbed food as I was already feeling the need to eat and set about eating it, Robbie hadn't realized I would be doing this and decided to set off alone as I tucked into a chicken wrap and coke.

The lump between the Gareloch and Loch Long

I set out from Carnforth alone, occasionally faster riders said hi as they passed, traffic was heavy in Kendal and I crawled round the one way system cursing myself for forgetting that the town centre pedestrian zone allows cycles.  The climb of Shap started, more riders were around me and we exchanged greetings but continued at our differing paces, I remembered the landmarks from Blackpool-Glasgow, the first crossing of the power-lines, the false summit and rapid descent into a dip past a house, then the final climb first passing under the power-lines again followed by the summit telephone relay station that's now a glamping pod.  Robbie was there waving me down, he looked terrible.

He told me he'd stopped twice on the climb and had just woken from a 10 minute nap, I suggested he may have bonked, the pace was high and I'd needed to eat at Carnforth whereas he'd bounced it, I suggested he'd better get down to Penrith and try eating.  We set off together and stopped at Shap where the shop was doing a roaring trade to hungry and melting cyclists, he still looked terrible, we carried on down the hill and I started dropping him on the undulations, this isn't right.  I was realising that he was possibly ill but didn't want to say it, effectively telling someone they need to pack the ride is very different from letting them realize for themselves so I felt I had to avoid aiding his decision unless absolutely necessary, as we approached Penrith I told him to find a tea room and demand the finest cakes in the whole world getting the "Withnail and I" reference all wrong.

Ben Arthur (The Cobbler) and Ben Narnain
from the approach to Arroachar

At Penrith the traffic was heavy again and I was glad I'd spotted a cut round the side of town when mapping, though I hadn't spotted a flatter route to Carlisle than over Heskett that Aiden had shown me but I couldn't figure out how to get to it which was rather annoying as I know the road from rallying. The long drag up started and when I finally reached the top at High Heskett, I was hungry again and the heat of the day was causing me to drink more than I expected.  At Carlisle I took an unscheduled stop at the Truck Stop for another wrap and coke.  I knew Gretna wasn't far but I wasn't really planning to eat there knowing I would now be able to get to Lockerbie truckstop (nearer to JohnstoneBridge) with only a quick bounce at Gretna.

The roll in to Carlisle was at commuting O'Clock, not ideal in any way but I managed to cut through the traffic ok to get to the service road beside the motorway, at Gretna other riders were tucking into food and I briefly contemplated buying food here, a quick visit to the shops and I was grabbing an ATM receipt muttering words to the effect of "feck that I'm not paying a fiver for a fecking sandwich" though I may have used the bad F-Word.

The A83 approach of Glen Croe to the Rest and Be Thankful

The B7076 has a bad reputation with Scottish riders, it's mostly built out of the old dual carriageway and in many places the surface is as old as when that was dualed in the 1960s, the result being that the surface is pretty knackered, in some spots particularly on the south facing climb the sun has over the years melted out the tar from around the aggregate meaning you're constantly dropping your wheels into the gaps between stones.  You can find smother lines however, the shoulder  doesn't have any aggregate in the surface layer and in some places despite the road being all but deserted the other carriageway was retained and made cycle track and somehow still has a good surface. 

Thankfully the motorway services are roughly 20 miles apart so knowing I was only 30km from Johnstonbridge services, I knew I was less than that from O'Neils truckstop just south of there, the hour and a half to two hours it should take to get there was also looking like perfect timing for tea and I set off wondering what would be on the menu.

The sun was still beaming down on my back, overheating me and burning my peely-wally Scottish arms when I got to O'Neils, I made a bee-line for the café and to my delight was able to order Steak Pie with vegetables for a delightfully low fee, I then set about sorting out the bike for the next stage topping up with water and sweets to get me to Paisley.  As I got stuck into the steak pie a bunch of VC167 riders arrived who passed comment about my rate of eating, their food was only just arriving as I left.

Inverary

As I climbed the surface suddenly smoothed out, piles of gravel built up off the wheel tracks, normally surface dressing is dreaded by cyclists but here it was bliss, what was once the worst part of the road finally gave some respite from the bar rattling proud aggregate. It's less than 20 miles to Abington almost all uphill, up Beattock is not so much a tough climb as a long one, crossing from Annandale to Clydesdale through the forests around Harthope. At Abington services I ate again, I knew I was well down on calorific intake already and there was another two days to go.



The B7078 takes over the mantle here, crossing the muirland between Abington and Lesmahagow, the surface in places is just as bad, but at the same time the cycle track on the old carriageway is mostly good except for the accumulation of stones, moss and other annoying crap.  After the brief climb onto the muir from Abington it's a rapid descent to Uddington and then a gentle climb past Happendon services and the run into Lesmahagow, from there it was a haul up to East Kilbride in the dying light through Strathaven which should never have the "ath" pronounced.

Bonawe

On the muir before EK my Wahoo froze, I'd suspected it was coming as I could see the slow down in response on page changes, it was unfortunate that it happened in one of the places I needed it to navigate so I stopped and initiated a reboot and recovery. EK proved not to be as bad on the periphery as it's made out to be, the route was comprised of roundabout after roundabout and then a nadgery descent to Thorntonhall, this was where I discovered my electrical fault.  Rounding a corner at speed in the dark my light flickered then dropped output to daylight mode, I reached for the switch on the backup and carried on, I fiddled with the wires and figured out that the connector had a loose wire, my soldering failing me again!

The ride through Glasgow at chucking out time was less eventful than I feared and I rolled into the Paisley control just before 1 am. I cleaned myself up a bit and went to bed, the plan being to see how I felt at 3am, I struggled to sleep, waking regularly but not feeling awake enough to carry on, when my alarm went at 3 I knew I needed longer, a strange fit like shaking passing through me not from the cold as I was warm, I took another hours sleep.
This would be where I defined how much time in hand I was working with; the control closed at 0759 so I had arrived with 7 hours in hand, the 13.3kmh minimum average required for a 1000km brevet easily beaten.

Connel Ferry Bridge, the falls of Lora below

I set off at 5am with 3 hours in hand, through the deserted Saturday morning streets of Renfrewshire, past the airport, getting confused by the access to the Erskine bridge with 2 other riders, one of whom got confused by the route on the other by the route off, both thanks to the poorly signposted closure of the downstream track and diabolical way it joins a zig-zag footpath into a park below.
I rolled through Dumbartonshire on the cycleway while others took advantage of the deserted dual carriageways, I spotted a McDonalds and was disappointed after drooling over the thought of pancakes to discover that it was drive through only at 6am, though the sign on the wall telling people they would be banned if they overstayed their welcome or returned after they had left was surprising for this more affluent area of Greater Glasgow.

I carried on, despite the light breakfast at Paisley I was hungry, very hungry, although my sense of smell is knackered I could pick up the waft of the in-store bakeries at the co-ops I passed with 7am openings, I couldn't really wait at the door for them. eventually and at the last chance in Helensburgh I found a 6am opening Tesco Express with added bakery waft, I dumped the bike against the AdBlue and logs and launched myself to the bakery before feasting on Pain Au Chocolat and Hazelnut Croissants in the forecourt.

Approaching Glen Coe

Soon I was riding past the Faslane peace camp and past the high fences and barbed wire of MOD Clyde, home of Trident and the Nuclear submarines that are chocolate teapots until someone is mad enough to initiate M.A.D.
I nearly missed the turn for Arrochar, plunging down a hill towards Garelochhead and roundabout gave the turning away from the Gareloch, away from the madness of nuclear war and up a great big lump of a hill and then down onto Loch Long, riders from the Trans-Alba rode towards the madness, at a pee stop I checked the progress of riders I knew, I thought I might overlap with Steve Scott if lucky but he was still a long way away.

I reached Arrochar at half-8, the lumps I'd already ridden seemed to have sapped some energy from me but nowhere was open, Glen Croe was about to come, the road felt quiet, I ducked into the toilets at Ardgarten as a chance to judge the road as much as the break, it still seemed quiet. I passed the access to the "Old Military Road" or to me the "Rest and Be Thankful Hill Climb track", where famous locals such as Jackie Stewart and not so locals like Raymond Mays once pitted their cars and car handling skills against the gradients and turns, the quietness of the main road seemed preferable to lifting over the gates and trying to drag my tired body up the final gradient.

The modern road sits high on the slopes of Ben Arthur, unfortunately this hillside is dynamic and in recent years a number of landslides have closed the road resulting in a length detour via either the Dunoon and Portavadie ferries to the west or by Glen Ogle to the east, work is ongoing to minimise the risk and at the road works I let everyone behind me past it was only 4 or 5 cars at that point, but as I climbed I was aware of a lengthening queue, the works making the road narrow enough that there was no where for me to pull over and stop, and whats worse I was struggling away in the single digits.  I started to hope the burger van was in the car park, I struggled on, the workers held the lights and as I reached the summit I pulled into the car park and kept riding until I was at the burger van.  I wanted a Venison burger, but it would be 15 minutes, so I settled for Beef and then I rested and was thankful.
The summit is called the "Rest and Be Thankful" due to a stone erected at the summit by the military work party who built the lower road in 1753 which instructed travellers to do so! A replica is now to be found in the car park.

Loch Achtriochtan, Glen Coe

I waited for the back of a tail of traffic before crossing the Bealach for the plunge into Glen Kinglass, with the burger in me I reckoned I could get away with bouncing Inverary, and as I rolled along Loch Fyne I decided I'd just go to the petrol station; the small shop there had a small selection of baguettes which I made a selection from, however I still managed to spend 20 minutes queuing and eating sweets, I reckoned I'd probably want to eat the baguette at the summit as the haul out of the village is a steep ramp that slowly eases off until you summit near Cladich. 



I was melting in the heat again, and I didn't stop at Cladich but carried on to Bonawe where for the first time ever I was passing through when the shop was open, I bought an ice cream and coke and sat on their bench sneakily eating the Inverary baguette. Checking the Trans-Alba tracker I saw Steve was heading towards Taynuilt where there was a brief overlap as they approached from Oban via Glen Lonan before turning off for a lap of Loch Awe. As it turned out when I checked at Taynuilt I missed him by a few minutes, the main road to Oban is an easy ride beside Loch Etive.
At Connel Ferry the Falls of Lora were just gentle seabound rapids but impressive none the less.

Half midnight at Crianlarich

When I reached Halfway Garage at Dunbeg three other riders were propped against the bags of coal, two were continuing but the other Andy W was packing the ride and was hoping to get a train from Oban.  I'd see him later at Paisley and Lytham as he worked his lift back!
The ride up Benderloch and Appin were as enjoyable as ever, I hopped between the road and cyclepath choosing the shortest flattest route almost all the way until I missed the turn for one part and had an unwanted climb to do.
At Ballaculish I was dreading this next bit, I'd managed to get myself on the A82 leg to Fort William as people returned from their days out for tea, traffic was busy towards the Fort but mostly quiet going the other way, Aiden and Anne were the first riders I saw heading south, followed by a handful of others as I approached Fort Bill, the town is long on approach and no one has ever conveniently opened a shop at this end of town, the big houses and hotels mostly pre-date the developments around the town centre and fort.  Town dragged on, finally I hit the bypass, I couldn't think of anywhere to go other than McDonalds at An Aird, the retail development around the Shinty Pitch.

The two riders from Dunbeg were there, it was only now I learnt they were on the 1200 and working to a more relaxed timescale than I was. I'd reached Fort William after 542km in 34 hours 40 mins, 1840, control closes at Midnight. 5 hours 20 minutes up.  I stayed an hour, 1940, 4hrs 20 minutes up still decent.

Sunrise on the invisible banks of Loch Lomond

As I left McDonalds a rider rolled in, the road was quiet on the way south, I reached the Larochs early enough to stock up supplies in my bag at Ballaculish co-op for the shopless stretch to come and then I set about the climb of the Pass of Glen Coe and onto Rannoch Muir; I've climbed this before, on a wet holiday Monday with two working gears, on a roasting Glasgow holiday Monday in terrible traffic and in the depth of winter when only the locals are around.

It was quiet enough, I stopped for a pee the corner before Jimmy Saville's house, children in a car that had stopped were amused by my Al Fresco micturation.
The rider from McDonalds, Moumen caught up with me here, he told me he'd bounced the control by walking past the queue ordering 6 McChicken Sandwiches and dumping them in his bar bag, I never saw him eat them.  It was getting dark, we rode together past the boarded up house covered in graffiti and through the Study, the waterfall rather timid after a dry winter. 


The glen starts to open out here, the masses of the Buchailles of Etive stand to the right while Rannoch Muir starts to open to the left, the Rannoch Wall on the right, the Rannoch Muir Kings House to the left, rebuilt recently to questionable taste, and then we were out on the Muir.
The old road winds to the south, past Tigh-Creag-Dubh, Telford hardly deviated from Caulfeilds road over the black mount but in the 1930s the road was diverted on a different route, exposed out on the muir it climbs the black mount gently, the summit at 348m not much lower than Telford's route that now forms the West Highland Way.  The descent at first is gentle between the lochs, but it gets faster, and faster then there is a sweeping left hander past a view point and a steep switchback descent to Loch Tulla, my weakness on right handed corners always shows here as I never get the speed or angle right to get round without correction.

Paisley Control

We whizzed though Bridge of Orchy, Moumen didn't realize there was a climb to come before Tyndrum, the road drags back up to 315m before plunging you into Tyndrum, my disc brakes howling as I pulled up to a halt at the water tap at the Green Welly to fill my bottles for the leg to Paisley.  Oddly we weren't the only ones, 40 hours into our ride and just under 618km ridden, just in the time limit for a BRM 600; midnight on the second night, a car pulled up and the occupants waited to use the tap after us.




I told Moumen that I was going to stop at Crianlarich for a sleep, we got there at half midnight, 6 hours in hand, another rider was already sleeping in the waiting room. I got out my bivvy bag and lay on the bench, setting an alarm for an hours time I couldn't risk too much sleep. Sleep came easily lying there on the uneven bench, the alarm went off and I woke with the shakes again and decided I'd need more sleep, I did this again finally setting off at 3am feeling much more awake and better.  I've hardly driven the A82 from Crianlarich south, it's really off route for me.  So I hadn't realised that after the steep climb out of Crianlarich it's a long fast descent down to Loch Lomond followed by a long flat drag, given how easily I went to sleep at the station I'm sure I made the right decision, there was also a distinct lack of other options.

At this early hour the road was deserted, the only sign of life a young lady running between properties somewhere in Glen Falloch, we said good morning and she replied, rather random.
The sky started to lighten as we rode down the Loch, I'd mapped the cycle route and old road and accidentally took one of those routes losing the advantage of the gentle grades of the new road, traffic started to pick up as we stayed on the dual carriageway past Balloch and Alexandria and into Dumbarton we were retracing out wheel tracks now over the Erskine bridge, past the airport and past St Mirren's new ground into Paisley.

High Heskett too early to be a Hotel

We arrived at 7, with 5 and a half hours in hand such was the speed of the last 85km.
Helen on the control told me to take a seat and asked if I knew why, a simple way of checking the mental state of riders this far into the ride.
Andy W was serving breakfast in the kitchen, still in his cycling kit. Moumen asked to be woken at 9 and went straight for another sleep, I'd ascertained while riding with him that he's a fast rider.  I got changed into my last set of kit and prepared to set off, I sat down briefly on a sofa and woke up at half 8.  I set off through the Sunday morning traffic in Glasgow, it wasn't busy but I was slow.

My second visit to Abington was on 53 hours, 1300, 5 hours up, I've only built up an hour since leaving Paisley, and it's lunch time, the queues at each concession were prohibitive so my ideas of lunch had evaporated from another box of noodles into an overpriced sandwich.


Oggy and Raymond were already here, Oggy was ready to go, Raymond was faffing, I was ready to go, we set off together with a rough idea of sticking together for the descent, I lost them without meaning to on the climb to Beattock Summit.  Then the descent began, I was picking a line on the smoothest tar whether shoulder or tyre track, the heat was getting to me again, I stopped at the truck stop for ice cream and coke as well as a water top up, they were doing Sirloin Steaks for a tenner in the Café.  I queued longer than I'd have liked though a trucker trying to buy something he didn't know the name of and a staff member that didn't normally man the shop didn't help. I took a 30 minute break, longer than I'd have liked, long enough to have had that sirloin!

Somewhere on the Wyre

Not long after the Truck stop I caught a rider who was having problems pumping up a tyre, I lent him my pump and tried to have a quick snooze on my bivvy bag, we then rode together through to Gretna where I accepted I'd need to spend some money on food and then Carlisle, he dropped me on the climb to High Hesket. I decided to take the high road despite the extra climb to see if there was anywhere to rest I found it in the form of a bus shelter at the summit,  I sat out the sun eating a cake from my bag.  I was ravenous again and knew I was going to have to stop at Penrith.



The hurtle into Penrith took me to the first petrol station moments before they started to shut up shop for the night, I raided their shelves with two purposes in mind, feeding me now and feeding me later; my plan was to climb to Shap village and stop at the bus shelter, I could probably have carried on to Kendal but a check of Travelodge prices favoured the bivvy. I got there at 11pm, I sat and picnicked on the cake and juice from the petrol station, and then I slept.  I woke naturally at half midnight having slept through the 1 hour count down timer I'd set; I started shivering again. It wasn't cold at 8c but it felt like a cold shiver this time, the trapped warmth of my bivvy bag lost and my damp sweaty kit really not helping.  I had layered up with long sleeve top and gillet over my arm warmers and I kept these on for the climb, I was soon regretting it and unzipped to avoid needing to stop.

A clear morning sky over the Fylde

I could hear the powerlines above me, I knew I was at the summit, but this side of Shap isn't a steady descent, first the plunge to the house and repeat climb, then the plunge to Garth Row and a caravan abandoned across the other half of the road, and then the plunge into a near deserted Kendal, 0130 Monday, all is quiet, not a pub kicking out, not a kebab shop over run with drunkards, it's Monday morning.  Some kids are wandering in the middle of the road, apparently my bike's shit, I suggested to them that it's me that's shit.




Endmoor is dark between the hedges, 0300 at Carnforth and Oggy and Raymond have passed me as I slept, they're chatting to the cashier in the petrol station, I later find out that the café is shut for a "deep clean", so the hankering for an egg roll wouldn't have been satiated.  I take my time over the stop, there's 50km to go and I've still got 4 and a half hours in hand.

Lancaster is deserted at 4am, I'm delighted, I get through without a worry, the climbs are annoying but it's the last ones of the ride.  Back out into the countryside, with the time I'm making I'm starting to wish I had the direct route back in my Wahoo.  Somewhere on the Wyre I see Oggy and Raymond asleep in a bus shelter, I know my next sleep will be on a mattress.
6am and I'm cutting my way across the Fylde on a route I've designed to dodge the traffic, in some places early starters are on their way to work, I have an issue with a series of cars overtaking as I indicate right on one of the few sections that's on a main road.

O'Neils Truck Stop food

This route is lumpier now than it felt on Friday morning, my speed profile is lumpier, I roll into the scout hut 70 hours and 43 minutes after I left, 1026.4Km ridden, 14.5kmh.
Andy W is there manning the control thankfully now in normal clothes while Andy C sleeps.

As I faff Oggy and Raymond arrive followed by Moumen, I don't eat, I ask what bunks are free and grab a shower before sleeping, I get a good 3 hours.
When I wake the VC167 riders are getting ready to head home, I think for the first time ever I see Aiden not wearing cycling kit!  I hang around and talk to a few riders that are there, Andy C is now keeping track of who's still out on each ride.  I start working out what train I want before heading to the station and for Tesco raid.





There was of course a sting in the tail, when I got to St Annes on Sea Station after a cream bun for lunch and just after I purchased my ticket the station announcement advised of a points failure cancelling the very train I wanted, the next would only leave me with 15 minutes at Preston and then if the points had failed would it be able to run?

I considered my options and finally decided the only one was to ride up the seafront to Blackpool North to catch a train to Preston on the busier line, I made it with plenty of time to get a baguette at Preston.

On the train north I had to apologise to the series of passengers sitting on the tip up seats in the bike space that I had the space reserved and then collapsed in my seat, waking briefly to post on YACF.
At Edinburgh I realized the flaw in having an Off Peak Return, it was Monday and I was there at five, just a bit of a wait for the first valid train home.

I'm rather pleased with how many aspects of the ride went, other than the Wahoo and Wiring issue the bike behaved as best as I expected with a worn chain ring, as things turned out had I tried to change that when I got the new ring I'd have been making a late bike swap as I discovered a fault with the drive side crank arm which thankfully didn't fail on me before I found it.

The focus is now getting a good refresh before PBP, the wires will be fixed it's one of my early bits of soldering on the SON Co-Axial connectors where I didn't quite get how they need to be soldered.
Cranks, Jockey wheels, chain rings, possibly a cassette and although I have two chains sitting not quite fully worn I expect a new chain to go on in the final preparation for PBP.

I stayed at the caravan until I got bored of not doing anything other than watching TV and reading, there's more interesting things to be doing.