Nice!

So here's how it all started. 

About 40 years ago my mum and dad got a caravan. It wasn't a particularly nice one - it was an old Bessecar that my dad resprayed and reupholstered, and it was towed by our old Humber Hawk. We filled it full of tinned food and longlife milk and drove it to the South of France, pretty much in one go. We ended up at a place with warm blue sea and palm trees called Antheor Plage. It felt like heaven.

That was when I started to dream of cycling to the med.

Today, after many painful miles we passed Antheor - then on through Cannes (blighted today by hundreds of people from Lancashire day-tripping from their cruise liner, and workmen clearing up after the film festival - miserable). 

Curiously, and obviously down to my heightened emotions, I managed to fall off my bike at some traffic lights. I unclipped the left foot and then fell to the right. I started shouting and swearing like a mad bloke, and an old couple told me that if I'd been wearing a helmet it wouldn't have happened. I told them to **** off... 

We finally rolled into Nice, victorious, at around 2:00pm.

The bike and I now have a deep and lasting bond, and I wince for her with every pot-hole and drain cover we encounter. It's remarkable that such a simple machine can carry you so far and so reliably.

Dave and I got a bottle of champagne and some orange juice to celebrate. We ended up drinking it in a park with some tramps, and intimidated them with the quality of our booze.

Then we went for a meal, accompanied by the worst guitarist I have EVER heard. There was one tune I couldn't recognise, but Dave helpfully pointed out it was the timeless classic 'Quadraplegic from Ipanema'.

Tomorrow we are off to Monaco to gamble  all the Just Giving money you so kindly donated at le casino - what could possibly go wrong???

PC

Climbing the Stairway to Heaven ....

Today's challenge - hitting the Med at St Raphael. 

After waking up to blanket mist and fog, we cheered ourselves up by sitting in a laundrette for what seemed like 5 hours. Amazingly, after almost 12 euros on soap and machines, our clothes were neither clean nor dry. 

We decided to press on, over some hills that a week ago would have killed us - but now are mere bumps in the road. I saw some road cyclists on the horizon at Vaudeban - and set out to catch them. We almost did, then I came to my senses.

After a nice salad in le muy, we set off for the med. We hit it at about 3-00 in Frejus - and here we are! Booked into a nice hotel right in the centre - only problem being there's no place to store bikes, and just a narrow spiral staircase to our 3rd floor rooms. Oh how we laughed... 

Other good news, it's 8.5 euros for a lager on the sea-front. 

The only gay in the village - avec his old piano

Tomorrow we hit Nice - and already I feel a bit low about our adventure coming to an end. Thought a lot about the people I love back home - and Dave has caught me doing the 1000 yard stare a few times. 

Funny old game life... PC

Hi Ho Silver Lining

Woke up in a foul mood: Outside my lovely balcony, the market traders seemed to arrive at 4, 5 and 6 am - all clearly from a deaf school, shouting their 'bonjours' like Anastasia with a megaphone.

After mincing around like a spoilt child and telling Dave off for something he hadn't done,  I finally followed him out of Cavaillon at about quarter to eight.

We set off for Brignols - and frankly, we murdered it. 119km in 8 hours. And that included 3.5 hours of stops. With signs for Nice within striking distance, it was a great day, albeit hot and hard going.

Before the end of our roll, we stopped to pump up, degrease and power wash the bikes - and the cold water jet was so lovely we had a brief 'Zoolander' moment spraying each other.

Now, here's a top tip for any cyclists: Do not apply your arse ungents in a bank foyer with cctv (see yesterday) .... or in wooded places bordering children's play areas (Aix en Provence) .... or McDonalds car parks with one way-glass for diners (St Minimim). Parents of small children can be so unnecessarily aggressive...

Now at Brignols with another big storm in the air - I'm waiting for Dave with a beer, then we're off for some tea. Things could be a lot worse. 

Paul with bike.

Dave with bike, while Paul has a wee.

PC

Smile - You're on Candid Camera

First, an addition to day 9:

Dave reminded me of the few minutes I spent REALLY working the arse cream into my chafing areas - only to realise I was on a bank CCTV camera!  You'll probably find my nether regions immortalized on Youtube by now.

Anyway, after breakfast at 6-30am, we were on our way by 7-00, and enjoyed a beautiful sunny morning chasing down the Rhone.

Stopped for a quick photo as Dave's trip computer hit the 1000km mark, then pressed on to Avignon for lunch.

The sun never really hit us today, so by the time we rolled into Cavaillon at 3-30pm we felt aok.

The hotel is brilliant! I have my own balcony, and as I write this there's a beauty of a thunderstorm kicking off. It's a really eccentric place - the hotel is done out like a 20s fun palace - complete with original plumbing.

Dave and I once again did a stint at the laundry - we looked like the odd couple sorting through each other's smalls - but it felt good.

Bike wise, she's rolling like a dream - just concerned that my bum is going to go the distance. Feeling slightly more weary by the day - but now the end is in sight.

PC

Look at me on my balcony!

The 100km point - and a road marking that
looks strangely like a cape in this pic.



Gimme some lovin'

Bad day today - but we got there in the end.

After a breakfast eaten on the pavement, we tried to set off early to beat the sun's heat. Within a few hundred yards I could tell my back tyre had deformed, and had also deflated badly over night.

At the first roundabout the bike handled like a dodgy speedway bike crossed with a Netto shopping trolley. I tried a repair, but after an hour we decided to head for a bike shop - which meant back tracking by a mile or two. A lovely old guy sorted things out. But none of us realized that I had a slow puncture as well as a knackered tyre. I needed several stops to keep things inflated.

It was SO hot.

By halfway I felt very low.

We stopped at a garage and dave emerged with some oranginas and a massive custard cake and really gee'd me up by telling me we were doing great.

Lesson: in any relationship, sometimes you need someone to say something positive - even if it's a downright lie - and you get by.

Reached Montelimar - the nougat capital of the world - got booked into a ridiculously expensive hotel, had some pasta and a nougat beer and tomorrow's another day. 

PC

The Kings of Lyons

The misguided target for today was Valence - but with the heat rising to a sweat-sapping 28 degrees, this was a bit too ambitious.

Instead we got across Lyon, and then after about 3000 traffic lights, we dragged our way to Vienne - a lovely town where the Tourist Office ladies pointed us and our bikes to a nice hotel.

The bikes's ok, but my back tyre is slowly deforming and has a strange quazimodo style hump developing. Not quite sure what to do about this - but it will probably involve inflating it to a point where bad things happen.

More stats - today covered 122km, drank 3 litres of fluids, applied 6kg of rear-end emollient, and had a vol-au-vent the size of a crash helmet for lunch.

When we stopped I realised that I'd led all day into a head wind - and Dave sheepishly agreed. 

Tired now, but happy. Been thinking a lot about everyone and everything back in blighty. Enjoy your weekend. 

PC.

The one where Paul 'helps' Dave fix his tyre ...

A day of dramas ...

After breakfast with the lads from the nuclear plant we set off in good spirits at 7-30, aiming to get to Chalons-Sur-Soane. The morning went well, and after 5 days we finally worked out that if you stop after every 12-15km for a quick drink and a stretch, the journey seems more achievable.

We stocked up on energy bars and then Dave had another puncture, after which his back wheel started to disintegrate. Poor Dave was in low spirits, blaming himself for our poor progress. I tried to gee him up, and offered to try and fix the wheel. The first attempt made the bike like something a clown would enter the big top in. After a few other 'gentle' approaches, I lost my rag and fixed it good. I tightened all the spokes like violin strings and used two CO2 cartridges to pump up his back tyre. Three miles later it exploded - I thought we were being targetted by a sniper.

Anyway, bike goosed in the middle of nowhere, 25 miles from Chalons, I managed to get a taxi via the tourist office, and while Dave waited for it, I cycled the last 25 miles in an hour and twenty mins.

Did a total of 81 miles today. Dave got us a very swanky apartment booked, and we had steaks for tea. Feeling good, and very grateful to the guys at Bicycle Repair Man for setting up MY grid really well... Tomorrow we fix Dave's bike and carry on.

Well over half way now.

PC

Just before it all went Pete Tong ...