Fancy a ride?
Well then, let’s meet with the others at the castle. It will be a longer ride than usual, 1215
Kilometres (755 miles). Hills? A few, totalling less than forty thousand
feet, though, so don’t worry. Pace? Well, we have to be back in ninety
hours. Food? Sleep?
We’ll deal with that as we go.
Some achievements deserve special acknowledgement, and the
rest of this issue is given over to Wayfarer Neil Crocker, who this year
completed the Paris-Brest-Paris (oh, and the thirteen practice rides, two of
them 600 Km long)..........
Paris-Brest-Paris 2019 by Neil Crocker
In 1891 Charles Terront, a professional cyclist, and 206
other French cyclists set off from Paris to race to Brest and back to Paris, a
distance of 1200km (750 miles). Some were using solid rubber tyres whilst
others, including Terront, were using the new fangled pneumatic tyres. He won
the race, arriving back in Paris in just under 3 days.
The race was repeated every ten years until 1951. But now the
ride is no longer a race and the aim is merely to finish. It is held every four
years and organised by the Audax Club Parisien.
In August this year I joined 6000 cyclists from all over the
world and set off from Paris to ride to Brest and back to Paris in less than 90
hours.
The Build Up
Last year I completed my first 600 km ride, half the distance
of PBP, and finished with only five minutes to spare (See The Sou'Wester,
March/April 2019). So I knew I needed to do plenty of training to stand any
chance of completing.
In order to qualify I needed to do a series of audax rides at
200, 300, 400 and 600km but in addition I rode another thirteen rides,
including a second 600km ride. I didn't seem to get any faster but it helped
build my confidence and refine my riding position and luggage options.
The start was from within the grounds of the chateau at
Rambouillet, southwest of Paris. I needed to be there on Saturday, the day
before the ride, to have my bike checked and to register. After that I wandered
around and met a few of the others riders I knew from previous audaxes before
heading back to my hotel.
The main start was in groups of about 200 at 15 minute
intervals in the late afternoon on Sunday. So everyone has to ride through the
first night to build up enough time in hand before considering sleeping. My
start time was 18.30, so on Sunday I had a late breakfast and lazed around at the
hotel before checking out and driving back to Rambouillet.
Finally 18.30 arrived and 200 eager cyclists from my start
group streamed over the start line, along the cobbled tracks lined with
cheering families, and out through the gates of the chateau onto the roads.
After all the planning, training, qualifying and getting to
the start it was now happening. Only one thing was left to do - pedal to Brest
and back. Nothing else mattered.
The Fast Start
The first few kilometres were hectic. Group riding skills
were variable to say the least. Groups were forming and then breaking up
frequently as people decided they wanted to go faster or thought they were
using up too much energy and slowing down. After a while things seemed to calm
down as the pent up adrenaline subsided and people settled into the ride.
I was going at a pace I knew I couldn't maintain for too long
but I was enjoying it.
After an hour or so some of the riders who had started
fifteen minutes after me started to pass. The first few were moving at a pace I
couldn't manage but after a while a well disciplined group of about eight
passed. "I'll have some of that", I thought and accelerated onto the
back of the group. Luckily the rider at the back of the group was a big Danish
chap who provided a lot of protection from the increasing headwind and I
realised I was working no harder than before - but now doing 20mph! Also the
two riders at the front of the group were riding side by side and seemed quite
happy to pull the group without any rotation.
I sat in this group, passing lots of other riders and picking
up a few, wondering if it would be like this all the way.
Unfortunately it didn't last. After about half an hour the
discipline seemed to break down and the group fractured. But I had enjoyed the
speed and the time in hand it had given me. I never did find another group like
that.
Into The Night
Most of route so far had been on long straight roads, with
few cars, and through the countryside but through every village there were
cheering crowds at the side of the roads. As the sun went down the sight of red
bike lights into the distance appeared. It felt good to see all the cyclists
heading in the same direction with a common purpose. When I got to a roundabout
at the top of a long straight incline I did an extra lap just to see the line
of white front lights coming towards me.
After 118km I reached the first control at Mortagne-au-Perche
where food was available. After problems digesting food towards the end of
previous long rides, I had planned to stop at every control and have a proper
sit-down meal wherever possible. So that's what I did, despite the queues.
I was back on the bike within 45 minutes and heading off
through the night. It wasn't too cold and although there were no big groups to
join my pace was still good.
I arrived at Villaines-la-Juhel (217km) about 4.20am with
four and a half hours in hand having averaged 15mph moving speed since the
start. Had I gone out too fast? Would I pay for it later on? I didn't know, but
I did know another sit-down meal was needed so that's what I had.
The next section felt harder and I was riding alone but by
9.40 I was at the control in Fougeres (306km). I was half way to Brest and had
only taken 15 hours to do it. So another queue, another sit-down meal, a sleep
on the grass in the sunshine and I was on my way again by midday.
The Pace Slows
From here to the end of the ride my pace could best be
described as 'slow and plodding' or 'controlled' if you were feeling more
charitable.
Soon I found myself in a big group of maybe thirty. We were
all content to just pootle along chatting in the afternoon sun. No one was
pushing the pace. It was just what I needed. I had time in hand and just needed
some easy kilometres.
Sixty kilometres later I arrived at Tinteniac for another
hour of queuing and eating, and 30 km later at Quedillac for food and a sleep
on the grass.
The next control at Loudeac (445km) had really long queues so
I pushed on, without food, to St Nicolas (488km) where I rewarded myself with
two hours sleep in a real bed.
When I left at about 2.30am, Tuesday, it was surprisingly
cold so I put on all my layers but was still a bit cold as the temperature got
down to 4°C that night. I was glad to reach Carhaix (521km) to warm up a bit
and prepare for the final push to Brest.
Between Carhaix and Brest lies the Roc Trevezel, at 380m the
highest point on the ride. The gradients aren't very steep but it was a long
drag to the top. The descent was long and fast, tempered only by the knowledge
that in 80km I would slogging up it in the other direction.
There was a strange sense of elation on approaching Brest but
I tried to remind myself that this wasn't the end, only the half way point. At
the control I relaxed a bit more than usual and sent a few texts. I arrived in
Brest in around 39 hours, spent about two hours there, so had 49 hours left to
get back to Paris.
I hoped this would be long enough but didn't know how my body
would react to the distance. I had ridden 600km four times before. In 2017 my
Achilles tendon gave out on a ride, in 2018 it waited until the next day to
tell me it wasn't happy, but the two 600km rides in June 2019 were completed
without Achilles trouble. I was also wary of nerve damage to my hands and
saddle issues.
So from now on it was a journey into the unknown. All I could
do was keep eating, keep moving forward and hope everything worked out.
The Return Starts
The climb back over Roc Trezevel wasn't as bad as I feared
and I celebrated at the next town with a visit to the patisserie and a rest in
the sunshine.
On the first half of the ride I had eaten almost exclusively
at the official controls but there were other options. All along the route
people had set up stalls to help the riders. These varied from tables at the
side of the road with bottles of water to marquees where whole villages had got
together to have a party and were supplying barbecue food to anyone who wanted
it. On the return I made increasing use
of these to lift the spirits and keep me going between controls.
As I entered Meneac at 2am on Wednesday morning, with the
temperature hovering around 5°C, the streets were deserted but ahead I saw a
light shining out. A garage door was open and a few cyclists were milling
around. A family had set up a table in the garage and were serving food and hot
drinks to passing cyclists. This was incredibly welcome. All they asked in
return was that when you got back home you sent them a postcard.
All the controls were very busy and as well as queues for
food there were people sleeping everywhere. Some headed for the queues for the
dormitories while others made use of any quiet (or not so quiet) corner they
could find. Corridors were full of bodies, some neatly wrapped in foil
blankets, others looking as if they had just fallen and couldn't get up.
Restaurants had people sitting with their head down on the table, or lying
around the edges of the room.
When I had eaten at the Tinteniac control all these prime
locations were full and it was still too cold outside to consider al fresco
sleeping. However a friend pointed out an unoccupied area under one of the canteen
tables. I thought there's no way I'll get to sleep there in such a noisy
environment.
Two hours later I was awoken by someone pushing a chair leg
into my back and walking off. I don't think they even knew I was there.
The day warmed up to about 27°C and I pedalled along feeling
all was well with the world. I stopped at another roadside house with a display
of all the postcards he had received after PBP four years ago. I found a couple
from people I knew, had some coffee and crepes, and picked up an address for my
postcard later.
The Home Straight
Slowly but surely the kilometres were passing and I was
getting closer to Paris. I was getting to each control in time, eating and
sometimes sleeping. Occasionally I was leaving after the cut-off time but
knowing I could make up the time before the next control.
After 1000km I got to the town of Villaines-la-Juhel. It had
been dark when I passed through here on the way to Brest but now at 6pm it felt
like a full carnival was happening. The town only has about 3000 inhabitants
but 400 of these were volunteering at the control. And it felt like the rest
were lining the streets cheering on the riders, playing in bands or dancing.
The small children were carrying trays for the weary riders from the canteen servery
to the seating areas.
Everyone was involved and welcoming. It really summed up the
spirit of the whole ride.
I had to push on but 5km outside the town, as the sun went
down, I chose a comfy south-facing verge to have a snooze before the last night
on the road. Wednesday night was just as cold as Monday and Tuesday and the
roadside stalls helped when feeling low between controls.
The last control before the finish was at Dreux (1171km). I
arrived here at 7.30am on Thursday and knew I had five hours before I needed to
finish and only 44km to go. I felt a great sense of relief knowing that,
barring disasters, I was going to make it.
Those last kilometres were undertaken more like a lap of
honour with the pressure taken off. The legs felt good and I took time out for
another patisserie stop for a final refueling.
I was soon back inside the chateau grounds, crossing the
cobbles and across the finishing line.
Get the brevet card signed, eat a meal, have couple of hours
sleep, catch up with friends, cheer the other riders in.
There was no enormous sense of elation. Just a feeling of
satisfaction in a job well done, finishing what I set out to do three years
ago.
A few stats.
Distance 1215 km (755miles)
Elapsed Time 88
hours 12 minutes
Moving Time 59 hours 19 minutes
Average Speed 20.5 kph (12.7 mph)
Climbing 11,465 m (38,200 ft)
Calories Burnt 35,948 (according to Garmin)
