Pedal to Paris - Job Done

Going under the name of the “Sore Saddlers”, the long awaited Pedal to Paris 2010 “pedalled off” from Greenwich at 0800 on 2^nd September. The ride itself took four days and covered 289 miles with overnight stops in Calais, Abbeville, Beauvais and finally Paris. Each overnight stop, and some others along the way, ware accompanied by a ceremony in honour of those who had lost their lives in conflict. Our hosts were always welcoming and I defy anyone not to have a lump in the throat at each of the ceremonies. Singing the Marseillaise (three times on one day on day 3!) seemed perfectly natural and given the circumstances, was particularly stirring.

Highlights were plentiful and far too numerous to mention here however the Master and Wyndham Lewis being introduced to their tandem for the first time only 30 minutes before the start and therefore with absolutely no tandem training whatsoever, will take some beating. In the days of super slick tyres and bikes weighing only marginally more than a feather, the ex-Clerk’s beast of a bike (his daughter’s mountain bike) with tyres that would not look out of place on a tractor, certainly prompted a few remarks.

It is worth acknowledging at this stage that the logistical support for this event was outstandingly good - with no exceptions. Bags were exactly where they were supposed to be, coaches were always on time, every road was blocked off on schedule for our safe passage, Nigel and the Sidcup Grease Monkeys (their words) were always quick and willing to help - no matter how big or perhaps trivial the job. The outriders were superb and always willing to enter into thespirit of the ride, whether it was pulling up alongside on a climb and playing loud music to help motivate (I remember U2's "Beautiful Day" on at least two occasions) or just continually dancing and clapping as they waved us through. Whilst the hotels were cheap and cheerful (as could only be expected) great effort was made to ensure that the checking in and out process was stress free and the evening meals, in my opinion, were of a very high standard given the numbers to cater for. Judging by the queues, I am sure the physiotherapists were excellent too. The RBL certainly know how to make a success of an event and I am not sure that any other event, on this scale, could surpass the organisation that underpinned this event. Thanks to all at the RBL and their affiliations etc who made it possible for us cyclists to only have to think about the cycling (and perhaps a few aches and pains!)

Day 1 – Greenwich to Calais (83 miles)

This was a gruelling day that started with a short ceremony for our war dead in Greenwich Park at 7.45. Police escorts led us to the M25 junction with the A20 and then it was free for all to Dover. There were two stops, one at the Royal British Legion Village in Aylesford and one at Sellindge. At both stops, we were warmly welcomed and given the chance to replenish our chocolate and energy supplies.

Heading over the North Downs was not too much of a problem (a climb of about 600 ft over about 5 miles) and descending Wrotham Hill (550 ft in 2.5 miles) was great fun as you can imagine. Whilst the terrain was gently undulating throughout, we were met by a monster hill on the old Dover road coming out of Folkestone. After 70 miles and the stress of dealing with heavy traffic in London, Maidstone and Ashford and generally obnoxious drivers throughout, this hill was a real challenge (300 ft in a mile). Watching those who looked like serious racers having to bail out half way up gave me great pleasure!

The ferry ride from Dover to Calais was uneventful but all conceded that the day had been quite a challenge, not least because of the fact we had a ferry to catch and therefore were under some time pressure. What was really pleasing to hear from others was that the highlight, in terms of route, was the run through Bearsted village and past the Green where I play cricket. I naturally could not then resist telling people where I lived!

An enjoyable meal at the Calais hotel was rounded off by a dessert nicknamed Chocolate Flossie by the Sore Saddlers. This was a mousse like dessert that hadf the appearance of having been sliced. It may have been white chocolate with a milk chocolate strip down the middle. Flossie was the name given to the sheeplike saddle covers sported by 4 or 5 of the Sore Saddlers. Chocolate Flossie? You can guess the rest!

The distance of 83 miles had beaten my previous record by 31 miles (in training) so I was in unchartered territory.

Day 2 – Calais to Abbeville (78 miles)

We started the day with a remembrance ceremony at the war memorial in central Calais. A misty start to the day and flat terrain out of Calais gave way to a cloudless sunny sky plus two monster back to back hills – duly conquered. Who said northern France was flat?

We had more stops on day 2 than on the first day which I think kept some of the more serious aches and pains at bay. They also helped conserve energy as well as giving time to refuel.

Unanimously regarded as the toughest of the French days, and the second longest day of the trip, I felt good at the finish which augured well for the next two days.

Couldn't resist taking a picture of the name of this bar. My 13 year old son told me I had a very juvenile sense of humour!

Day 3 – Abbeville to Beauvais (68 miles)

The day started with a remembrance ceremony at the war memorial in the centre of town and became the first of three occasions that I would sing the Marseillaise that day. The scenery on day 3 was stunning and the reception we received in each village from the locals was very moving.

We stopped in one village (Auchy La Montagne) and the locals greeted us with wine and cakes and their love of the English was quite humbling. Marseillaise #2!

The day ended with another ceremony at the war memorial in the centre of Beauvais and the Marseillaise #3. I am starting to know the words quite well now!

All in all, and in the general scheme of things, it was quite an easy day. The weather and terrain were kind.

Day 4 – Beauvais to Paris (61 miles)

Setting off from the fire station, everyone was clearly excited about the entry into Paris and the final ride to the Arc de Triomphe. After a number of fairly challenging climbs, we entered Paris from the west, near Versailles heading east through the Bois de Boulogne. All along the way motorists hooted (in support, unlike the English reaction!) and passers by clapped and shouted encouragement.

One could not fail to be impressed with the final climb towards the Arc. It was about a 2km climb on cobbles which is not easy to do when trying to take photographs.

At 3.19, the gendarmes closed the road around the Arc for precisely 2 minutes to allow all of us, who had been riding in a single peloton, the chance to get safely round and deposit our bikes next to the Champs Elysees.

We were greeted by the Master’s wife Evelyn and Past Master Tim Satchell and his wife (plus copious amounts of wine and beer) before collectively marching down the middle of the final 50 metres of the Champs Elysees to under the Arc itself for a final moving ceremony. The Marseillaise was sung almost fluently this time.

Thankfully blessed by near perfect cycling conditions and the most beautiful French scenery, the four days were gruelling as hills, sore posteriors, aching muscles, empty energy tanks, ebbing motivation at certain points and God knows what else were all collectively conquered in equal measure to reach the Arc de Triomphe on Sunday afternoon. The final 2km push up to the Arc de Triomphe accompanied by motorists’ hooting their horns and cheering bystanders is the most unforgettable experience.

Not even a puncture, my only of the trip, in mile 289 of 289 (!!) and within sight of Les Invalides (the final resting place for our bikes before being shipped back to Blighty) could dampen my excitment and sense of achievement. Perhaps the beers at the Arc had something to do with that. I have since learned that the last half mile completed on my rear rim led to a buckled wheel. My bike is currently in the bike hospital receiving treatment for this and a broken headset - discovered at Greenwich! Thanks to Nigel and the Sidcup Grease Monkeys, a temporary fix saw me through to Paris.

I think I can speak for every Sore Saddler who took part, that whilst the Saddlers Company has a deserved reputation for being a friendly Company, an event like this, away from the comfortable surroundings of Saddlers Hall, can provide a catalyst for forming stronger bonds. Speaking personally I found it a pleasure to ride with this generation of Sore Saddlers, no matter how badly we all smelt by the end of it all!

Over old ground and into new pubs

There are just 3 days now before we depart on our big adventure.
I have rather neglected the blog over the last few weeks and so have combined several rides into one blog.
The 3 Amigos have really just been going around previous routes in different directions and trying out other pubs on the routes.







Many of the rides have started from my house with coffee and cake, and on one occasion I was half way to Faringdon before realising I had left my cycling shoes at home and was wearing these worn out old crocs.
One of the rides started off through the woods which made taking photos a bit tricky as you can see in one of these pictures.

Over the weir at Aston once again where the Canada Geese have stopped for a rest (A sure sign of Autumn in my book)
Then through Skirmet and Turville valley.














Then We were to tackle the very long steep hill up through Northend to Christmas Common, this is one that I have tried to achieve in past years training for the Pedal to Paris but as yet I have never made it all the way up without walking some of the way. Sally took the longer shallower climb through Turville Heath and Tim and I tackled the dreaded climb ( Sally just wanted to make sure someone else bought the drinks at the pub)
To my surprise we made it all the way to the top quite easily and I had to wonder why it had been so difficult before. It just goes to show how important the training is.

Lunch was at the Fox and Hounds as recommended by my Sister Celeste. We had Fish and chips, the fish scored 5 Saddles and the chips only 3, but it is a very good pub.


A little later we crossed the M40 at the famous cut through the chiltern hills and back home via lane and and Hambledon.



A couple more similar rides through Henley and surrounding area.
The fields are now mainly harvested another sign of Autumn approaching.

For the Henley rides I am usually leader as I know the area, so heres the view I usually get in my rear view mirror.

A couple of weeks ago 2 friends of mine, Bo and Kent were visiting from Sweden, Bo works at the Royal Palace in Stockholm and was formerley a Coachman at the Royal Stables there, and Kent works at the City Zoo caring for Bears, Wolves and Bison amongst other creatures. But the rides must go on so they were forced to come cycling with us.

This time we only made it to Hambledon and back, just 24 miles in total, but we stopped at the Huntsman in Hambledon where the chips scored a fairly poor 3 Saddles.
Over the past 3 Saturdays we have joined the Faringdon Cycling group to up our fitness levels, and I must say they don't half go hard and fast at it, for the first time this year my legs have really felt it. Not only that but they don't stop at the pub, but only for a banana at the roadside for 10 minutes. however we have usually done around 40 miles of hard slog by lunch time and then we retire to the pub afterwards.

Heres a quick puncture stop.

And here we are at the meeting point at 9am on a wet Saturday.

Apparently they even go out in the Snow.
They are however a very friendly crowd and we intend to continue to join them regularly for a Saturday ride, to stop the weight piling back on.


And the final chip score at a pub in Stanford in the Vale ( I'm sorry I have forgotten the name of the Pub) A very good 5 Saddles for the whole meal really, very good indeed, I will get the pub name from Sally eventually.

So this is it for the training, if we're not ready now we never will be.

Good luck everyone, and we will see you at the start line.

I hope you have a comfortable night at the Saddlers Hall. The 3 Amigos have opted for a luxury Hotel and a later start, let's face it I know what we are all in for.

There will be a final posting from me after the ride itself and I hope we can all appear in that one, so please let me have any good pictures that you take on the ride and any funny stories.

All the very best of luck to everyone.

Frances

Ultra Death - No Rain in Spain on this Plain!

In the knowledge that a link to this blog is now appearing on the RBL website, I felt the need to prove that I am taking the P2P seriously. With this in mind I am pleased to report that I have just returned from a two week training camp in northern Spain. Following in the footsteps of the US Postal Service cycling team who based themselves in Girona, I chose Pals as a base, 27 miles due east of Girona. OK, so I was at a camp but before I am rumbled by anyone else, this camp had a swimming pool and was in easy striking distance of the beach!

Without wanting to put my disciplined training schedule behind plan for the sake of spending time with my wife and kids on holiday, I did take my bike with me to continue training. Over the two weeks, I cycled 127 miles over 5 rides, the longest being 52 miles. For this I chose the hottest day – and the hottest part of it. Something about mad dogs and Englishmen!!

We were staying on the Baix Emporda (the “lower” Emporda) which differentiates itself from the Alt Emporda (“high” Emporda) as the Baix Emporda is predominantly a plain whilst the Alt Emporda sits in the foothills of the Pyrenees and is therefore much more mountainous. That said the Baix Emporda does have its fair share of hills. In the north there is the Toroella massif which is dominated by a fantastic hill upon which sits the Montgri castle. No guessing what this hill is likened to. I sniggered when I first saw it as a 6 year old, and I didn’t need to tell my kids of this when they first saw it 3 years ago. Consequently, we have always referred to it as “The Boob”.

Close to us and more to the south, the landscape is dominated by the Begur massif. I cycled up this and the coves around this part of the coast represent images upon which the Costa Brava gained its name in 1908. Costa Brava literally means Rugged Coast and this is the area where one has endless postcard beaches with turquoise waters to choose from. The beach in this photo is Sa Riera and is viewed from about two thirds of the way up the massif. When I reached the top, I did bottle it, opting to go back the way I came as I knew going over the other side would mean a second steep climb no matter which direction I was headed.

Much of my cycling was across the Pals rice fields which, whilst beautiful and relatively slow going given the nature of the tracks, was not challenging as it was so flat. Nonetheless, despite knowing the area really well from numerous previous visits to this part of Spain, this was the first time I had explored the area in such detail as the bike took me to places either not accessible by car or, so far off the beaten track that one would not think necessarily to drive to. Also, travelling alone and at a slower pace meant I could stop when I wanted and take detours as and when I pleased.

Crossing the rice fields took me to the Gola de Ter, the mouth of the Riu Ter. This is a beautiful lazy river which rises in the Pyrenees and flows through Toroella before discharging into the Med 4 miles to the east, just south of the resort of Estartit. In the background are the Isles Medes which became the first offshore nature reserve in the country. Before now we have visited the islands on a glass bottomed boat – an incredible experience.

From here I headed back towards Toroella, a beautiful medieval town, which sits at the foot of Toroella de Montgri, the castle on the massif. It take about 90 mins to walk to this castle and unsurprisingly the view from the top is magnificent – in all directions. Indeed, albeit not very visible in these photos, the Pyrenees are only about 40-50 miles away and therefore clearly visible to the naked eye. Needless to say, I kept well away from these!

Heading west of Toroella, I happened upon this beautiful medieval footbridge in Gualta. The worn stones are clearly visible.

Further illustrating the richness of this beautiful part of Catalonia, 3 miles further on, located on a small “hump” on the plain is the village of Llabia. Llabia is on a small spur road, one way in, one way out. The village afforded stunning views over the plain. This view looks out towards La Bisbal de l’Emporda, world famous for its ceramics.

The primary objective on my 52 mile ride was Pubol. Pubol is just east of Girona and was home to Salvador Dali and is wife Gala. It was here at the 11^th century Castell Dali y Gala that following the death of his wife, Dali almost died himself in 1984 when an electrical fault in his bedroom led to a fire that almost killed the bedridden Dali.

Whilst I did not visit the castle on this occasion as I had done so on a previous visit in 2007, I did stop at the café just outside the castle for an ice cream and glass of ortxata (a milky drink made with chufas – tiger nuts) and played with a couple of young kittens.

On leaving Pubol, I headed for Monells, yet another beautiful medieval village just a few miles away. I was beginning to wonder what the fuss was about when just before deciding to leave the place, I headed down a no through road and passing underneath an arch at the end of the road, I happened on this beautiful village square. I stopped for a quick photograph before wending my way back towards Pals.

On the way back I took a detour through yet another beautiful village (there is an endless supply of these beautiful villages in the area) with the intriguing name of Ultramort. I can only view a literal translation of this to mean Extreme (or Ultra) Death. I quick photograph of the village sign and tentative gander at the centre of the village, I decided not to overstay my welcome in case I meet with some ultra experience from which I may not recover!

The climate lends itself to fruit farming and away from the rice fields, there were many orchards lining the roads. The stacks of Girona or Costa Brava crates of apples left a lasting image in my mind.

The route home took me through the medieval villages of Palau Sator and Peretellada. Peretellada steals the thunder of the other medieval villages of the area and is firmly on the tourist trail. These photos hopefully do justice to the village where every turn warrants a postcard view.

Amongst all of these beautiful villages and stunning scenery, what I did not visit on this occasion (having done so in previous years), was a ruined ancient Iberian settlement, the largest and most important in the whole of Spain. This further demonstartes that aside from the stunning beaches (whether it be the pine clad coves that gives the Costa Brava its name or the long sandy beaches upon which the resorts are built), this area is littered with medieval villages, ruined settlements (there is also the largest Spain based Greek and Roman ruined cities of Empuries / Empurion just 10 miles up the coast) and of course the stunning scenery, much of which has the Pyrenees as a backdrop.

Other than ascending the Begur massif, I felt the real new element to my training was the stretches I cycled on the main roads which, being long, straight and exposed, meant long periods exposed to headwinds.

Training-wise, this was a productive couple of weeks in an area which I know really well and have always loved. Having the bike with me enabled me to discover even more new places, ones that I may never had discovered if it hadn’t have been for the bike.

I suspect there will be one more ride at the weekend and then the waiting and training will be over! Destiny beckons but will hope that ultramort will not feature in that destiny!

Just to cap it all, the route back home took us up the A16 from Paris. Whilst it was about 0300 on Monday morning, I was conscious of the fact that this autoroute runs roughly parallel to the P2P. I wish I could say it was flat as a pancake - but I can't! Rather I could say that, but it would be a lie!