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.