PEDAL TO PARIS

ROYAL BRITISH LEGION CHARITY CYCLE RIDE

4^TH – 7^TH SEPTEMBER 2008

A TRAVELOGUE AND PERSONAL REFLECTIONS

A BIG THANK YOU TO ALL MY SPONSORS WITHOUT WHOSE SUPPORT I WOULD NOT HAVE HAD THE EXPERIENCE

‘Another Fine Mess You Got Me Into Stanley’

The time had come, after 8 months of hard training, to face the toughest physical challenge I have ever under taken. It was calculated that at the end of the ride we had covered just short of 300 miles, climbed a cumulative 3500 feet and burned between 4000 to 6000 calories a day.

My father died on 19^th December and our family managed to arrange his funeral just two days before Christmas. My workload had caused me to have a very sedentary lifestyle culminating in my weight ballooning up to over 17st. by the time I had sat down for Christmas Dinner. I was in pretty poor mental and physical shape.

My long standing personal friend of nearly 40 years Keith Rimmer came to my aid and suggested we entered the Royal British Legion ‘Pedal to Paris’ scheduled for early September 2008. I had first met Keith in South Africa, me newly married, and him, about to get married to a Dutch girl, Greitje.

It seemed a great idea at the time to give me an aim to help get my weight down again and make myself fit again.

During the winter nights I trained on a fixed exercise bike at the Southwell Leisure Centre spending an hour a session on a defined programmed hilly course. Starting on a low resistance I gradually increased this each week until I was up to 70% of the full load factor without my heart going just over 155 beats a minute. This equated to about 95% effort for a 62 year old. Later, as the weather improved, I went on cycle rides on my £350 Chinese bike progressing from 9 mile circuits up to eventually 60 mile sessions. The first part of the training routine was to get fit to train and the second part to get some performance. From being quite unable to climb 1:6 hills and sustaining more than 12 miles an hour average, I gradually was able to climb hills without getting ‘distressed’ and increased my average speed to over 16 miles an hour even in hilly terrain.

Wednesday 3^rd September

At 2.30pm Keith had already arrived by car with his cycle packed up in the car boot. He was shortly followed by my Property Development client Keith Roberts, Owner and CEO of Kean Group based near Newark, Nottinghamshire. Keith Roberts is a keen cyclist (pardon the pun) and had expressed interest in joining us when he learnt of my plan. Fred Harston of Kean Group had kindly ‘volunteered’ to take us in the company pick-up van to our overnight hotel in Greenwich, London. I got a bit of a ribbing because I had 2 bags versus the 1 allowed until I saw Keith Roberts bag which you could move house in.

Arriving at Greenwich we were able to secure all three bikes including Keith Robert’s £6000 Pinnerella in one of the meeting rooms. A short walk away was the Cutty Sark (now being restored). We decided to walk to our scheduled meeting point in Greenwich Park first to make sure we knew our rendezvous point for the next day before having dinner at a small seafood restaurant near the Novotel. It was then an early night as we had a 5.00am call for the start the next day.

Greenwich, London to Calais – Thursday 4th September (78 miles)

We made our way to Greenwich Park in our Lycra cycling gear, pushing our bikes in one hand while wheeling our bags along the ground with the other. Towards the General Wolf Statue there is a very steep climb up before you reach the summit and the registration area in the tea rooms. At the top there was a wonderful view of the City of London. We all registered, collected our numbers and deposited our luggage at the Legion’s lorry for onward transit to our hotel in Calais.

Standing on the steps of General Wolf’s Statue the crossed flags of the Union Jack and Tricolour were displayed at the photo session before a safety briefing. We were all to be escorted as one group to the outskirts of London by Police outriders and then make our own way to Dover following the signs on-route.

Just as we departed it started to drizzle and I was having trouble clipping my feet into the pedals to secure them. I went almost 5 miles before I finally succeeded in locating my feet in both ‘cleats’.

The ride started steadily averaging about 12 miles per hour until we were all out onto the open rolling hill roads of Kent. There were a couple of long steep climbs on the way the most difficult being Folkestone Hill on the road between Folkstone and Dover. As the day progressed the weather deteriorated to the point where it was at times lashing down. Fortunately for us during one of the worst spells of rain took place when we were in a village hall having lunch. The ride to Dover was not too bad especially the enjoyable bit of rolling down the other side of Folkstone Hill into Dover where you can almost freewheel all the way. I had been suffering from stomach cramps which made me take frequent toilet breaks.

Having started at 8.20am we arrived at Dover some 78 miles away at 2.45pm having made three refreshment stops including Lunch on the way. You learn very rapidly when cycling long distances of the importance of regular food and drink intakes otherwise your energy levels rapidly disappear.

We were to learn that the day was only half way through. The ferry was 2 hours late because of bad weather. We stood most of the time in cold wet weather and soon I became cold and started shivering.

Again a motor cycle escort met us off the ferry directed us to a local municipal warehouse near the main town square before getting on the coaches standing by. Our coach driver took us to our hotel in Calais but could not find it and when we did eventually arrive to take our bags into the hotel the heavens opened up again and soaked us and our luggage completely through.

On our first night we were all three in a small bedroom so it was quite an organisational exercise sorting out wet clothing, the gear the next day and repacking our suitcases. We had dinner at Café de Paris Restaurant just 200 metres up the road before finally turning at 11.30pm French Time (12.30pm UK). Keith Rimmer was appointed Tea Boy and Tapper Up for the 6.00am call the next day.

Calais to Abbeville – Friday 5th September (73 miles)

This was going to be a tough, tough day. Out of the 230 cyclists 2 had decided to retire already and there was one minor casualty from the day before where one of the elite riders had slid off circumventing a roundabout grazing his face badly and requiring running repairs with a couple of stitches. The day stay started ordinarily enough; there was a brief ceremony in Calais’s main square conducted by the Mayor followed by our two national anthems. We were all split up into groups with approximately 120 in the slower group who set off an hour earlier followed by an elite group of 18 just quarter of an hour before my group of approximately 100.

I was still having problems with my clip-on shoes but managed to secure them in the first couple of miles when the pace heated up and we were rattling along at almost 20mph. At first I though I had made a mistake and got into the wrong group, the pace was so hot. Fortunately the rear bunch was stopped by a level crossing and we were able to gather ourselves and the front group made to slow down so we could catch up. It was still hard going when we resumed but finally we caught the main bunch only to find a long steep hill stretching over 2 miles in front of us. My steadier pace helped me to continue cycling up the hill when others had to get off and walk suffering from too fast a pace at the start.

I had imagined that the terrain would flatten out at the top and we would just face gentle rolling hills all the way to Abbeville. How wrong I was to be. At the top of the ride we were on a high plateau with a head wind of 25 to 30 mph blowing straight into our faces with absolutely no shelter whatsoever. Not a house, hedge or even crops of maize to save us from the extra effort. The wind was so strong that we had to continue cycling downhill when we descended into a series of valleys containing small villages.

To add to our misery the rain started to lash down once more. It was so intense that literally an inch of rain was crossing the roads complete with slippery mud and gravel. Many bikes were breaking down in this mayhem with over a 100 punctures, broken spokes, snapped securing bolts on chain sets. The mechanics did a sterling job fixing all these on the move while the riders took refuge in the vans until their bikes were ready. Up to 10 cyclists at a time would be crushed in the vans waiting for their turn to continue.

The Peleton, however, continued relentlessly onwards giving no cause for temporary relief. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending how you view it my bike stood up well. Before the trip I had replaced the tyres and inner tubes as well as fitted a new chain. It was evident however as I looked down to fix my feet in the pedals, that my efforts in the climb were bending the main crank and as a result I must have been losing 15/20% of my effort in distorting the frame of the bike.

Keith Rimmer hit one climb, slipped his chain and fell-over as he could not release his clip-on shoes in time. My tummy was still giving me some ‘jip’ and my legs began to tire rapidly… He was suffering just like me. At lunch I had to go to the toilet again only to hear the whistle go for the off. No one had spotted my lonely bike around the back and when I had eventually leapt onto my bike, I saw the group 300 metres ahead disappearing into the distance. This was all I needed after such a long hard slog in the morning. Head down I did my best to catch up. Fortunately after making half the ground up one of the escort motor cyclists spotted me waited by the road and than gave me a push and took me all the way up to the middle of the group so I could recover. He will never know how grateful I was for the helping hand; it was as if my guardian angel had come to my rescue at a very low point.

With approximately 10 miles to go, we all joined up with the other two groups and ceremoniously entered Abbeville. The residents, in spite of the appalling weather, came out to cheer us in.

That night we stayed at Cap Hornu, a small resort by the coast. It was based in the River Somme Bay and had a long history linked to both Richard the Lionheart and Joan of Arc. The area was predominately a bird sanctuary with wonderful natural forests. Again we were in bed by 11.00pm and up again at 6.00am

Abbeville to Beauvais – Saturday 6th September (65 miles)

After breakfast, which I found difficult to take down but forced myself to eat, we returned to Abbeville for the start. Again the pace was hot and we were ‘whizzing’ along for the first 8 miles until again we hit the climbs onto the high plateaus and again facing that b…y wind again. The weather again turned bad with rain still pouring down. Fortunately a pair of club cyclists saw I was suffering and asked me to follow their wheel so they could pull me across the high plateaus with the awful headwind. This worked well and allowed me to continue the pace. The motor cyclists also came to my aide when I lost contact in a downhill stretch and he drove his bike in front sheltering me from the worst of the wind effect. Now I really began to suffer through extreme fatigue. Every pedal stroke was an extreme effort and I was getting completely exhausted by the relentless pace and conditions.

Eventually the group joined up again with about 15 miles to go and we gently rode into Beauvais. We were all getting very tired. On arrival in the town centre we were ushered to a remembrance service conducted by the deputy mayor. There proceeded to be almost a scene from a Monty Python sketch with our party conducting our remembrances and singing the national anthems whilst at the same time a wedding party unaware of our presence were sounding their horns. Obviously they were unaware of our presence, being hidden by a row of trees. One car had a blow up sex doll complete with revealing lingerie. The Deputy Mayor masterly stuck to his task and eventually normality resumed.

At our hotel and before dinner I spotted the leader of the support team, Alain Cordier, an ex Tour de France cyclist, and went over to chat to him. I was so grateful to the motorcyclist’s support that day that I offered to pay towards a round of drinks. As he did not speak English very well he passed me over to the head of the motorcycle team. When I offered to contribute to the drinks he corrected me and said that is not how they do it in France. I should join then at some stage over dinner for either an ‘aperitif’ or ‘digestif’. Sat with my colleagues in the restaurant the cyclists were in one restaurant whilst the motorcyclists were in an adjoining room judging from the noise. Over the starter my motorcycle leader came over to our table and asked if I still wished to have a drink with them. As their preference was for an ‘aperitif’ I went to the next room with my two colleagues to be faced with a room of over 30 people. I had forgotten there were three groups plus the lead and closing cars, mechanical back-ups and medics. As I entered the room an enormous cheer went up, and in French, the audience were informed of my desire to buy them all a drink. Asked if I would like to say anything I confirmed I would but in the best French I could muster. I told them how they had helped and encouraged me to get through the day and I was very grateful for the assistance. As I closed another enormous cheer went up with clapping and standing on tables as a form of salute. The bill eventually came to E135 but was worth every cent.

Beauvais to Paris – Sunday 7th September (55 miles)

At last the final day had arrived and whilst the sky was cloudy at least the rain had stopped. Whilst waiting to depart I noticed that the social group was almost twice the size as the original at Calais. When it came to our time to depart I realised that half our group had decided to go in the slower group due to the relentless pace. I should have done the same but didn’t feel too bad as we set-off. I soon realised that that my confidence was misplaced as my energy levels were now so low that I find it difficult to change pace. I kept going for about 10 miles hoping the effect would wear off but still it was a struggle.

Again fortune came to my aid. On the approach to another hill my chain slipped and jammed in the mechanism. It was also apparent that I had lost some pressure in my rear tyre, not through a puncture, but probably from the heat I was generating with all the effort making some air escape. The mechanics van soon came up behind took the bike to the rear and told me to hop in the front while they fixed it. Realising I was still going to suffer with the faster group I asked when we would meet the slower group. This would be about another 15 miles ahead so I asked them to go slow on the repairs and looked to regain the group over lunch. At the lunch stop we entered a village surrounded by ex WW2 US army vehicles of all descriptions. At each road junction were French men and woman dressed in Gi uniforms complete with authentic armoury. As we passed by they saluted us into the lunch reception held in an enormous tent.

After lunch I rejoined my bike and immediately was faced with another steep hill out of the town but with the little rest and better pressure in my tyres I felt somewhat better than before. Fortunately the ride became easier after the climb and with just 20 miles to go we descended a long steep hill before travelling virtually due East to Paris. The wind was no longer a problem and I began to slowly recover from my exertions of the morning. Our time for arriving in Paris was set at 3.20pm. The pace was gentler, now we were all in one group, but we still had to keep going and keep the Peleton tightly bunched.

On approaching Porte Maillot the lead group began to separate from the rest of us and I being in the lead of the second one was told by one of the professional cyclists on the trip to close the gap just as we were about to go over the brow of a long bridge.

Unknown to me the others had not responded and with a gap appearing in front of me I went as fast as I could round a large traffic island entering the Rue de Grand Armee at the same time as I saw the Arch de Triomphe in all its majesty in front of me up the gentle incline. Somehow I managed to gather some strength to sprint as fast as I could to the Arche de Triomphe rattling over the cobblestones as I went. It was with some emotion that I finally realised I had actually made it after such an arduous trip.

Having congratulated each other and taken on some light refreshments we then proceeded to the grave of the Unknown Soldier carrying the Royal Ensign flag in front of us marching slowly to the beat of the music provided by a French Regimental Band. The service of remembrance went well with the playing of a Scottish lament by a Scottish Bagpiper and singing of our respective national anthems. Our bikes in the meantime were being guarded by the French Police until we returned and then cycled to the site of Napoleons Tomb on the south side of the River Seine.

Back at the hotel, the check-in was in chaos with many cyclists with room keys that did not work or other people in the room. I was even told that Mrs Kirk was already in the room with our luggage and was expecting me. Having just spoken over the mobile to my wife in the UK I began to wonder who Mrs Kirk actually was. There I will leave this as a point of intrigue for my readers. Needless to say I was late for dinner joining my friends in one of the large dining rooms. A few other cyclists had joined us including Denis the Redditch man. Similar build to Jasper Carrot with a cynical sense of humour.

As we were in Paris, the most romantic city in the world, and Denis was still a bachelor, we suggested our mission for this evening was to have him married off by midnight. Although he insisted this was not necessary we took it upon ourselves to succeed in our mission. Like any other personnel interview we first had to agree the specification including confirmation of gender, AC/DC (you never know these days), ethnicity, family background, experience, performance requirements, interesting hobbies and any other special attributes!!

We then proceeded to hone Denis’s ‘elevator speech’ i.e. how would you describe yourself in as few words as possible to someone you met in an elevator before your floor was reached. Being a ‘Brummy’ and being an accountant for a company making lighting trusses didn’t quite do the job we were looking for. Therefore we suggested that he should say he worked in the entertainment industry on national theatre and TV productions ran a successful company in Worcestershire during the week but spent most of his time in Monaco with his marketing team. He was arranging to move house to Monaco as the British climate was not good for is Ferrari car collection despite fitting de-humidifiers in his garage. Just to down play it a bit and give it more credibility, we suggested that he would say he was not wealthy enough to buy his own plane but often shared a lift with one of his Birmingham friends who flew his Citation into Birmingham International Airport whenever he could.

Denis’s main concern was that he had only a single train ticket back to the UK. This we overcome after some thought and said we could smuggle an Asian Girl in Keith’s bag and probably could get two in given they tend to be quite slim and short. He could have his own Ting-a-Ling and Ting-a-Long . This initial proposal was rejected on the grounds that the mothers tended to be fat and ugly and they followed their daughters around (Please refer to wedding photo’s).

Undaunted we suggested perhaps the quality end of the market, a Caucasian, good family background, pretty, vivacious but could still do the practical things in life such as fix his bike and clean it for him. Just at this point we were joined by our standard bearer from the Isle of Man, his wife and his gorgeous 20 year old daughter, Gemma. At this point we turned to Denis and said “There you are, we have started already”.

While Denis went to choose his desserts we explained to the family our behaviour on arrival and Gemma agreed to play along. On Denis’s return we asked him, before we went searching the streets and alleyways of Paris, whether Gemma would fit the bill. Gemma confirmed she had ten minutes and would seriously consider an offer of marriage. At this point we cautioned her that in order to meet our requirements most of which we could see she would meet we asked if she could fix and clean a bike. Oh yes, was the answer I always help my father with his collection of cycles he keeps in the garage.

I only wish I could have taken at that point a picture of Denis whose jaw had dropped and had the appearance of a rabbit caught in a car’s headlights.  

Denis was a good sport and took the banter well so we invited him out with us despite his protestations that he was on the early train and took him into Paris to show him the delights of the City. I still don’t know whether he did actually catch the train back.

Paris to London – Monday 8th September by Eurostar

We did manage in the morning to have a stroll around the sights of Paris and lunch before picking up our bags and departing by taxi to the Gare de Nord. Our bikes were waiting for us at Waterloo Bus Station where Fred was waiting, bless him to take us home, tired but happy.

Lessons Learnt

(a) Never volunteer for anything

(b) 15st is still too heavy for cycling

(c) Need a better bike

(d) You are never too old to tackle anything

(e) There are some wonderful people and characters who very much care for their countrymen

(f) The French are great people once you get to know them, just like us

After a couple of training runs on my return my fitness level has improved noticeably leading me to believe another years training and I might just enjoy the next one and take in the scenery in better weather.