This was written immediately on return, because I'm old and my memory is crap. Note that this was an 11-man ride and I'm only 1 of them. Nothing I write should be taken for anyone else's experience. I will respect privacy by using only first names or initials to avoid confusion. And despite others having some cracking photos, I've not used them. Let me know if there's anything anyone objects to or wants taking down.
Portsmouth to Paris and back - May 2017
The Prologue
A good friend decided last year at fairly late-notice to ride from Portsmouth to Paris and back on 4 successive days to prove that age wasn't affecting him. With more notice I'd have loved to join them but instead watched enviously from afar as he and the 3 people with him managed it, unsupported, but decided it could be done in a much better way. Like with a support van to carry overnight gear, and probably better packing, and definitely without an arse-munching saddle.
So around Christmas time an invite was published and (I hope) a pleasantly large group of people responded positively. We're all middle-aged, spanning both ends of that range, and there were a few drop-outs and late-additions, but on Thursday 18th May 11 riders and 2 support drivers (and their hired van) appeared at the Ship and Castle for a couple of pre-ferry stiffeners.
I should mention, perhaps, that in marked contrast to last year a decent effort was put in by all concerned to prepare. I've been riding every week since Xmas, and twice a week (or more) since the clocks changed, mainly with Peter. We got up to 75 miles in training with no ill effects, so basic confidence was high.
Shout-Outs
Before continuing, all gratitude must be shown to the following:
- Matt - his idea, his enthusiasm and his organisation. Without which none of this would have happened. I'm so very grateful.
- Tim - Mr Organisation. Has a photographic memory for routes, and appears to know the location of all the good bars and restaurants in all towns and hamlets in the northern hemisphere, as well as being Kitty Holder extraordinaire. Thank you.
- Xavier - Mr Local Knowledge. Made the trip along the coast line a joy, provided valuable translation skills, and a great source of entertainment despite the chronic pain. I wish I could display such fortitude under such conditions.
Day One - Ouistreham to Evreux
The morning began by exiting a packed ferry at 0700 local after the inevitable insufficient sleep. Xavier's foresight (and previous work experience) meant a proper french breakfast was laid on for us in the ferry terminal. Our ride started just before 0800, and with Local Knowledge available we took a side-road down to the bridges avoiding the footpath. Sadly this coincided with rush hour, and getting onto the main road (only to leave it shortly after) was about the worst traffic we encountered. A short while later, though, we left civilisation behind and started heading cross-country.
Two things became clear quite quickly: firstly, we had Tortoises and we had Hares. Secondly, the scenery was well worth looking at, the rolling countryside being a constant source of delight for the eyes all day. I was quite happy in my role as Tortoise, initially in a 3 out of 11 group but that was fairly fluid. We rolled on for a couple of hours, stopping for Coffee and Croissant at Saint-Julien-le-Faucon, after 30 miles:
After this, we set off together but again quickly (after the first hill...) separated out. For the next few hours, Matt & I formed the "sweeper" group ensuring no-one got left behind whilst enjoying (genuinely, in my case) a delightful cross-country ride sweeping across enormous high plains, swooping down through ancient villages before a (usually) gentle climb out onto the next plain. It's worth noting we were incredibly lucky with the weather, arriving in towns to soaking pavement just after the rain, or riding along at the head of a following storm. We kept this up pretty much constantly (modulo an Orangina-and-Chocolate stop in Orbec) through to Beaumont-le-Roger at the 70 mile mark, where our 2-man Tortoise group arrived to find lunch of World's Biggest Pizza had already been ordered, and that the rain was about to pour down. Lunch was therefore very, very much appreciated sat indoors out of the weather watching an ancient episode of Columbo dubbed into French... his "..just one more question" still being instantly recognisable:
After lunch, with only about 25 miles to go I apparently had sufficient legs to keep up with the Hares, and we had another great couple of hours racing across more delightful countryside, with the added amusement factor of our resident Big Puppy Peter "The Red Baron" chasing all and sundry - including tractors - across the plains of Normandy.
And so it was we arrived at our hotel in Evreux just before 1700. Nearly everyone was happy with the 94.7 miles done in good time, in good conditions, and feeling fine. But there was one person who could very easily be goaded into making it a round 100 miler, so Pete and I hared off on a couple of "laps" of the town centre - at rush hour - to knock it over the limit. Stupid and Pointless, but a milestone nonetheless: A genuine Imperial Tonne ride:
The evening was spent in several delightful bars, and a perfectly serviceable restaurant in which many Calories were consumed. It was not a particularly late night...
Day Two - Evreux to Paris
Our ride started at the hotel at 0800, with a short diversion to Evreux's closest equivalent to a 'Spoons for more croissant and coffee before the departure proper. Getting out of towns at rush hour isn't much fun (even on a Saturday) but we managed it in short order, and again were very quickly out in the countryside. A couple of minor climbs notwithstanding, we pretty much kept in one group for the first hour or so, stopping for a second breakfast (need those calories) after 15 or so miles at Garennes-sur-Eure.
However, after this stop things went badly wrong for me. I'd picked up some right ankle pain on the first day, probably through over-tight shoes and/or bad cleat position. This came back in droves here, and allied itself with a massive dose of fatigue. So although the morning's ride wasn't particularly testing, I was hugely struggling to keep up with the back-markers and (I'm sorry to say it) really not enjoying the experience. I can't remember much about this part of the ride other than the suffering, even having looked back at it, except for the very end portion through Saulx-Marchais, the descent to Beynes and the (relatively easier than expected) ascent up to the airfield cafe at Beynes-Thiverval. Here was a
most restoring 3-course lunch, sat in a tent watching gliders arriving and departing behind a motor-glider, with an old Mirage as gate-guardian:
(Peter's is in much better condition. And still has a Donk inside unlike this poor relic).
It took us a
long time to get going again after lunch thanks to the size of the meal, our first tyre-change (self inflicted, apparently), and because we'd all got quite cold sitting in the breeze. A short ride up to and along the ridge saw another unscheduled pause to deal with our first genuine puncture, which we each handled in our own style:
From here we swept down off the ridge, through a couple of villages and onto my own first test - a deviation from the previous route after Chavenay to take us away from the Autoroutes. Initially, this went brilliantly: A short climb up a semi-busy road to take a farm route across country, which after the first up-and-down revealed, far in the distance but straight ahead of us, our next destination of Versailles Palace. My confidence and mood was high at this point, but it was premature. The route got less placid as we got closer, with a dark passage under a bridge through mud and gravel being particularly unpleasant. But then we got to Versailles Park only to find that all gates were locked as an anti-terrorism measure. Several probes were made to find a way in, with consensus being reached that the main road was our best option. Fortunately, this turned out to have a separated cycle-path, and at the head the Park (close to the palace grounds proper), an open entrance was found that allowed us into the park. We spent far longer than we really should have taking selfies and group-shots in front of the fountain and deciding how we could remedy the castle's under-statedness.
After this, and a chaotic and spaced-out zoom around the north side of the grounds, it took us far too long to regroup at the front of the palace, and as a consequence it was nearly 1800 by the time we headed out on what I was sure would be our cycling highlight, the velo-route to Notre Dame.
Things didn't start well, with a signpost apparently pointing through a forest really pointing at a path the wrong way down a slip road, a diversion past a railway station onto a river track that was honestly really on the Velo route despite being marked "no cycles" at several points, and a couple of obviously new sections that just flat-out weren't on the published route. But then it settled down into a properly-segregated track away from the roads. Sadly, though, this doesn't mean it wasn't a) quite up-and-down b) quite side-to-side c) frequently barriered to avoid zooming straight across roads and d) absolutely rammed full of Parisian families taking a leisurely Saturday evening constitutional.
It took us forever to get to Montparnasse station, and it was notable how short words being spoken were by the time we got there. We all took a quick diversion to get a group shot with the Eiffel Tower behind us - my own effort not coping with the contrast differences. It's behind me, honest!:
At this point we split again into 2 groups, one going for a proper Eiffel Tower shot, the other (with self navigating) going "directly" to the hotel. Thanks to at least 1 navigational error (obvious, now I see the map), some awful shared-with-pedestrian sections in which we really needed Angus's icebreaker to clear our way, and a couple of re-grouping stops we ended up getting to the hotel after the Tower party despite their longer distance. Events such as these provide all of the material needed to fuel the evening's bar discussions, a true and accurate representation of which is shown:
Day Three - Paris to Rouen
This was the day I'd been training for: I reckoned it'd be the hardest, 2 down, 1 more to go, and one of the longer, hillier routes. You can imagine how I felt after the poor showing the previous day; it was 50/50 whether I'd get on the bike or not. I'm glad I did.
After the disappointment of finding the only Boulangerie in Paris with an inadequate supply of Croissant, we zoomed out of Paris following a decent route mainly of Tim's devising that took us through some of the less touristic parts of the city in an effort to get to countryside quicker. Our arrival at green fields was celebrated in proper middle-aged style with a comfort break. I decided Paris hadn't seen enough of me and took the opportunity to apply a second coating of Chamois Cream. Much to the delight of my co-riders, naturally.
We spent a decent chunk of the morning following the Seine, sometimes very closely indeed, with some glorious riding. A few minor climbs, a couple of thrilling descents, and one quick lung-burster away from the river at Andresy. It wasn't easy riding (for me) but it was manageable and we stayed in one group pretty much all the way to Meulan-en-Yvelines where we paused for Second Breakfast (and suncream) by the river.
After this we left the Seine and headed cross-country. Time was against us a bit - we needed to find lunch before everywhere closed, so there was some pressure to keep the speed up. The climbs weren't steep, but they were long, and we inevitably spaced out again (I tended towards the rear here, and as a general point it's a lot easier to
keep up with people than it is to
catch up with them). Our one scenic stop on the hills above Moisson was short and a bit arbitrary, but the descent into Gommecourt was spectacular enough to make up for it. After this, the valley route through Limetz-Villez, past Monet's gardens at Giverny and on was spoiled a little by the time pressure. As a result of which we took an unscheduled detour into Vernon where plenty of options were available for lunch: Most had kebab but I went classy with a chicken burger and chips outside the fantastic church there:
After this refreshing pause, it was back out onto
Route des Andelys to continue. Frankly I was tired enough that it took me a good 10 miles to realise I was nursing a puncture; a roadside stop just outside Port Mort was required to address this, with Marcus, Matt and myself cementing ourselves here firmly as the back-markers with this. I must give Mad Props here to Marcus for his assistance and sharp eyes with the tyre change - I'll give the Schwalbe Marathons a pass as the shark-tooth grit he dug out at the
edge of the tread wasn't well covered by the puncture resistant strip and was sharp enough to penetrate. On the plus side: those tyres ride quite well even when flat (I'd been bumbling along at 17mph for miles before I noticed).
Our 3-man peloton pressed on to re-group with the fast riders at the really rather spectacular Le Petit Andely, where they'd enjoyed a coffee break that we skipped. After this we carried on but with the addition of Pete to our gang of Tortoises for the last stretch. After more Seine-side work, with Parascenders above us on the cliff tops, we left again at Muids for a quick up-and-over to Herqueville to rejoin (where we found we were overtaking the working traffic on the Seinne, a minor but needed boost to the ego), before leaving finally at Pitres.
After this came the fairly well advertised "Last Big Climb of the Day" which, despite the fear, was quite pleasant; the road had been resurfaced, the worst of the ascent was done in a shaded forest section, and it brought us up to another of France's Big Sky plains with the advantage of
real Planes from the local airport buzzing around us as we circumnavigated it. From here it was a bit of suburb-hopping to get to the day's finale, the spectacular descent into Rouen proper, a mile or so's fast descent made all the better by being "free" - cyclists know that what goes down must usually go back up, so to have this long, long drop knowing the hotel was at the bottom was a real joy. We were diverted from our destination by the imposition in front of us of another Belgian Bar, where all stopped to enjoy the early evening sun and a couple of pints of local anaesthetic:
Sadly, while we were enjoying this some local scrotes were helping themselves to Pete's bike despite it being only 5m away and within sight. This really put the downers on the mood; the evening was great (Rouen is a
beautiful city) but it was understandably overshadowed.
Day Four - Rouen to Ouistreham
So while I'd been dreading Day 3 for the riding, the final day was my
Bete Noire because I'd done the route for it (no alternate being available). It wasn't
difficult - find small roads in the right direction that stay away from crappy places and cliffs where possible - but it was time-consuming and hazard prone (the routes we'd inherited were meticulously hand-researched and ground tested over years. I had Google Earth). It was a mixed bag but people seemed to enjoy it...
Departing Rouen was a bit easier than I feared as the riverside cycle path went just as far as we needed it. The ascent out of the city wasn't dreadful, but it was long and on a busy road (we left just
after rush-hour but that just swaps cars for lorries). Fortunately at the peak we turned off onto a country road that was an absolute blinder: a decent 8 mile gentle descent through forest and fields that kept our Fast Boys happy in their sprinting and the rest of us really enjoyed the low-effort / high-speed cycling for a good distance.
It was just a shame that the ferry we needed at the bottom of the descent was broken, that's all. Five miles back around the shoreline took us to the next nearest ferry though, and luckily the exit point here was almost exactly on my backup "crap short route" plan out of Rouen. A 10-mile diversion / addition to the day, but
not a total disaster:
From here we followed the "crap route" through some unremarkable suburbs, and onto the long ascent up to Saint-Ouen-de-Thouberville. Here's where we made our own little bit of news - before the town there's a choice of
Peage or green-route to Caen, and clearly there's a lot of heavy traffic aiming to avoid the tolls. But the road's quite narrow, and the French are
very very good to cyclists either giving plenty of room when passing or, as here, just not passing. The 10 minutes or so it took us to get from the roundabout into the town, with a very patient Artic behind us, meant that when we paused for more pastries and a coffee there was a genuine Waze/Google traffic alert on the section we'd been on. All our fault!.
This road wasn't much fun, but we needed to follow it for a few more miles to Bourg-Achard before turning off towards Bouquetot, which turned the route from heavy-traffic purgatory back into our favoured delightful back-road rolling countryside. Although we again split into Tortoise and Hare here (more Tortoises today, although still not a strict majority), there really was only a difference on the few steeper climbs; we were all rolling along the countryside at good clip (17-18 MPH on the flat) aided by great weather as we had been all weekend. After Bouquelon we descended from our side of the Valley on one of the faster descents through some lovely turns and switch-backs, only (for us Tortoises) to be met at the bottom by a reversing car and the smokiest diesel in the world coming the other way. Good job the brakes work!
From here after an only-slightly-dodgy traverse of the D6178 at Foulbec, we climbed up to Conteville to get our first sight of the sea (or more accurately: Estuary). As a 4-main train we chugged on through some rolling, twisting routes up the floodplain and around the shield hills towards our planned lunch at Honfleur. Pete was clearly holding back behind me, so with only 6km to go I confidently told him even an idiot would find it from there, just follow the signs and off he went. Not 1/2 K later was a roundabout with the (signed) main road leading right, but the planned (and shorter, as well as quieter) route going straight over. And no sight of Pete. I spent the remainder of the 5km to the quayside kicking myself for being so confident in my pronouncements. But luckily when we got there he had just arrived himself, and we were only 5 mins behind the Hares on a 25 mile section.
Lunch was, again, welcome if a bit late (with thanks to the Restraunter that Xavier persuaded to stay open for us, and who willingly refilled water-bottles afterwards even throwing in Ice with a smile). At this point we'd made up our deficit in miles, and had only 30ish to go, so despite leaving late (closer to 16:00 than 15:00...), and with the addition of our Local Knowledge rider Xavier back to the fold after a day or so off with injury, the mood was high for our last stretch.
There was a climb out of Honfleur, but it didn't amount to much. It did, once again, separate the groups but there was more spread amongst the Tortoises than before. Or more accurately: I got caught on my own in the middle, with 6 fast guys ahead and 3 slower ones before. This wasn't a problem - a beautiful sunny day, lots of water, a fully-charged Garmin with route loaded - and if I'm honest I appreciated an hour or so to myself to enjoy the scenery and ride, but I really ought to have stayed with one or the other of the groups. As it was, by
strictly sticking to the published route (and not having the benefit of local rider Xavier's knowledge on which was the
best route), I came through the centre of Deuville (over the cobbles, chasing a vintage car) and popped out at the seafront just in time to see the Hare Peloton pass in front of me. They didn't see me, but I gave chase and was soon dropped again. However, by sticking to (my!) published route which inadvertently went the wrong way down a 1-way street, and by them stopping for photos, I again popped out near La Garenne behind them. The imposition of a small but relatively steep hill ensured I once again dropped behind here, though.
So I was left to my own devices along the coast at Blonville-sur-Mer, chasing an Audi R8 through the 30kmh zone (and keeping up!), and stopped at the end of Villers-sur-Mer for a Mars Bar and water break hoping the remaining Tortoises would catch me. Since they didn't, I did the final Big Climb Of The Day on my own up to Alberville and, as warned it was a doozy of a climb. Proper 2nd gear slog for a good mile or more, with several "I'm sure the top's just around
this corner" moments before the final sting at the top. However, from here it was a delightful cross-country then long swooping descent into Houlgate, promising myself (loudly, at the top of my voice, to the empty skies) that no matter what I was stopping here for an Ice Cream. And then, as I popped out onto the seafront I was again caught and overtaken by the Hare Peloton who'd both come a different (longer) way
and stopped for an ice cream themselves.
Fortunately, the saint and martre that is Peter decided to show me where the ice cream shop was and perhaps even partake himself. I am very grateful to him for this kindness and my ice-cream leaping out of the cone as I hit the curb coming into the car park was no-one's fault but my own. And I'm not ashamed of scooping (most of) it back up and finishing it. IT WAS MY HOLIDAY ICE-CREAM GOD DAMN IT. Here we all regrouped, we happy few, and a passing brit was kind enough to take our group shot:
If we look happy, it's because we know we're done with climbing, we've got plenty of time to get to the Ferry, and most of us have had an ice-cream. From here we went on to Cabourg, where a seafront Beer was obligatory if ruinously expensive:
...After which, we had a cheeky little 12 miles to go, which we seemed to need to take at top-speed. Alan, to this point an absolutely dedicated Hare, decided after a close call that a more measured response was called for and deigned to take me in tow for a good portion of this ride. I've never been more relieved for someone to call "water stop" than I was when he did so only a mile from the bridge; he may have been taking it easy but he was still at my top-speed. From here we went over Pegasus Bridge where we were lucky enough to intercept our support drivers for the first time since Honfleur:
..and from there, it was up the canal path to Ouistreham, where we declared "Finished" at the seafront and went for dinner. I had a Savoury Crepe that was delicious although it didn't have Frites. And then a Citron Crepe for pudding because I reckon I could.
From there it was the usual phaff to get onto the ferry, one last drink in the bar with a bit of post-match analysis, bed, then up at the crack of dawn to stumble off the Ferry, through Passport Control and across Portsmouth to get the train home. And now here I am and that's the end of my 1/2 day holiday so I'd better get to work.
