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!