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 ...

Don't blame it on the sunshine, don't blame it on the moonlight, don't blame it on the good times, blame it on the chafing

You could call this a rest day.
After another good French breakfast, we dropped Dave's bike off at a nearby shop, where he got a new back wheel (again), new derailure, new tyre and I replaced some of the CO2 bottles we used.

We had an honest exchange about the weight on Dave's bike - so he threw out a load of stuff and posted the other things home.

So, today's ride... At about noon we set off on a quick 40 mile sprint to Macon in 30 degree sunshine - quite a difference after the last few days, and it's only going to get hotter. Almost shocked by the beauty of Macon as you roll over the bridge towards it. It's like a real life Canaletto spreading out before you.

On the way we encountered a French guy, about our age, out for a tootle on his 3000 Euro road bike. He rode with us for about 5 miles and we did our best to smoke him. Pathetic really. Anyway, Dave says I'm 'goal oriented', not 'competitive' - which means losing is ok .... apparently.

Tonight's accomodation is a Best Hotel on an industrial estate next to a Land Rover dealership - where the concierge seemed genuinely shocked that we had chosen to stop and ask for a room.

Tomorrow we aim to do a nice total and get to Valence - the sun may be a challenge for Dave and his fair complexion ... and for me because of my cowardice.

For stats fans - we're now up to about 790km - I have 26% chafing, and our top speed touched 68kph yesterday. Alons y!!

Dave does Macon

Stuck in the Middle with You, Dave.

Lunchtime Drinking? What do you think this is? A holiday?

Bottoming out

Me, outside a Nuclear Power Plant

Have just heard that the weather in England is 'glorious' - hmmm.

Woke up several times last night to the torrential rain, and after a nice breakfast set off at half seven to try and get to Dijon. We failed. It's been a day of constant drizzle, broken only by occcasional bouts of full-fat rain. The Seine is dangerously swollen.

So we limped along, stopping for coffee and rest - but it's been low on laughs. Dave's well on the way to destroying another back wheel - we've stopped a few times to fettle the spokes, and moan about stuff.

After a big pizza lunch, for a bit of light relief we stopped to de-grease and pressure wash the mech bits of the bikes - and find an air hose for the tyres. Yes, this really was the high spot of the day.

Hello, is that room service?

Now reached Montbarn - not quite as far as we wanted to get, but on the way. We're in a 'budget' hotel called 'Le Siren@ - it's one step up from a bus shelter, but it's dry and er, well, it's dry. The hotel is just next door to a nuclear reprocessing plant ... I wonder how it got its name?

Just one more thing: Having to use more and more unctions on the arse each day. The bike's going great, but where I perch on it is becoming ever more tender. Going to load up on ibruprofen tonight to help ease the leg muscle pain, and help me forget the rain. Oh and while I have your sympathy, perhaps you'll consider donating to our Prostate Cancer Charity:  http://www.justgiving.com/Dave-Paul-Calais-Nice

It's raining ... raining in my heart

Slept well and felt good this morning - after a quick utilitarian breakfast headed off for Epernay then Troyes - a big day of 135km. Then the rain started. Biblical, comical rain that only a wet suit could keep out. And the rain was made worse, if that's possible, by the 16 wheel juggernauts spraying it at us  horizontally too.

Then Dave's back wheel broke - a spoke which had supposedly  been mended by an idiot back home. We finally found a Decathlon shop that sold bike bits (A miracle, since the shops are mostly closed on Mondays) and bought a new back wheel. We then proceeded to fit it right then and there, in the middle of the shop, as a protest against the total lack of helpfulness from the Decathalon staff. Damn these global brands! We cursed them roundly as we dried off and tried to get warm with 'un big mac' next door.

Anyway, after this setback we really panelled it for a few hours and got to Troyes by 5:00pm. We hit the tourist office and hit the jackpot ... never mind hotel rooms, we got an entire three bedroom apartment avec a dozen, very welcome radiators, right in the centre  of town for 55 quid. Formidable! Off to Dijon tomorrow.

PC

This is what suffering looks like ...

Despite feeling awful, nauseous and barely able to walk down the stairs this morning, once I got on the bike things went well.

Basically, I'd got mild sunstroke on day 2 - so kept everthing covered despite the 21 degrees temp.   Mid morning, Dave got a puncture, but this turned out to be a good break and a chance for us to compare tools (madam).

Met an old man on an ex post office bike who helped us find a nice restaurant in Laons, so we bought him lunch and drank pastis together before the afternoon leg. He was totally overwhelmed and asked us back to his flat etc etc - but we pressed on. 

Got to Rheims - beautiful - and despite the hotel taking 'spartan' and utilitarian to new lows, we're both in good spirits. Imagine a shower with a light on a 10 second timer..and little signs saying stuff about wasting heat by leaving the door open too long.

Big day tomorrow - 70 miles, and no pre booked hotel.

PC

St Quentin you've been living hell to me ...

Woke up at 4:02am and wished I was dead.

After a few coffees and breakfast, we hit the road at 8:00 am. Lovely and sunny, with a      light headwind - and because we didn't get lost, got to Bapaum for noon - great progress. By now it was hotand the afternoon shift was hard going.

Finally got to St Quentin by four - not feeling great. Sunburned arms (forgot to cream        them) and a painful left knee. Left off the beer (and the 47 vodkas), opting for the                ibuprofen nightcap instead.

Nice hotel with good bathrooms - almost a pleasure to wash my smalls in.

Filled with trepidation about tomorrow - could be a world of pain. Hope it's ok.

PC

Early to Bed

The restaurant next to our budget hotel was the 'only Polish restaurant in Bethune' - and run by a man who responded to any attempt at speaking French by appearing with a flavoured vodka and three shot glasses.


We've had a delicious 'beef on a pole' (no pun intended, I hope) and about 60 units of vodka, and a surreal hour of pictionary with our host's 6 year old niece. You try drawing 'un crocodile 

dormant' when you you can't remember your own name... 

It's great being in bed before half nine at night. 8-30 UK time... 

http://www.justgiving.com/Dave-Paul-Calais-Nice

Not Such an Old Croque

Well we're on our way.

After a silky smooth and sunny channel crossing, we rolled into Calais full of optimism and a full English. Then we got lost in Calais - a pattern we repeated throughout the day. The French roads are so much better than ours - but someone seems to have nicked all their road signs …

After a lunch of croque monsieur in St Omer, we pressed on. It rained - and we ended up doing 70 miles - not the 55 planned. So much for my great sense of direction. Bike and legs holding up well - and now we're about to have three or four evening meals. In very good spirits - and looking forward to seeing more rural France tomorrow. But hopefully not quite so much of it!

PC


http://www.justgiving.com/Dave-Paul-Calais-Nice

Baby I'm Ready to Go

http://www.justgiving.com/Dave-Paul-Calais-Nice

I’m not an athlete.

I’m 48 years old, a bit overweight, and the sort of person who feels inadequate as soon as he staggers into a bike shop.

BUT, I’ve always dreamed of cycling from Calais to the Med – a desire that was rekindled when I read ‘French Revolutions’ a few years ago.

So, here I am – on the eve of my Grand Tour – looking back on the fact that I’ve gone from occasional bike-to-work fair weather cyclist, to someone who now considers nasal hair an unwanted weight penalty, and a 30mph head wind a useful training aid.

I shall be doing an average of 60 miles a day for two weeks – it doesn’t sound much, and for the first 2 days it probably isn’t. It’s the last 12 days I’m worried about…

And how did I prepare? Well I read all the fitness guides, and was almost put off any kind of training – I just don’t have the time or frankly the ability to devote to some of the more punishing regimes.

The key for me was enjoyment. If you want to get better on your bike, try to find routes and reasons to go out that are scenic, rewarding and above all achievable. If you find yourself unable to drag yourself up that nasty hill – don’t become consumed with anxiety and guilt, just stop. It’s not a crime! But rather than give up and push your grid the rest of the way, take a minute – have a drink and a few carbs – then get back on the bike and see how far it takes you. You may have to stop again, but that’s OK. The amazing thing is, every time you do that hill it gets easier – and pretty soon you don’t even think about it.

Another big step for me was riding with someone else. If you’re leaning into horizontal sleet, and you’ve lost all the feeling in your extremities – and you’re about as far way from home as you’re going to be – if there’s someone else there to share a joke with, it’s OK. If you’re on your own, it really ain’t. As my training increased, my pal Dave (the person accompanying me to France) suggested we tried a Sportive to see how we were doing. I was privately horrified, but in the spirit of machismo, I reluctantly agreed. It was brilliant! A whole group of people hurting at the same time – and offering support and encouragement…I can’t tell you how good it feels.

Other stuff I’ve learned – the arse-bike interface is VITAL to your continued comfort on a long ride. Don’t trust the reviews, don’t think more cash means better results – the only way to be SURE you have the right saddle is to try them out – and then just put the hours in until you know it’s all OK. If you rub, chafe, ache - or in my case, lose any feeling in the posterior and upper hips – you know you’ve got the wrong saddle and it’s time for a change.

It’s the same with bike adjustment – spend time getting the bike to fit you (rather than the other way around) and I reckon you can add around 30% to the miles you can comfortably achieve in a single shift. By reducing the reach of my bar stem by 20mm, I managed to totally rid myself of a nagging shoulder ache and stiff neck that happened after every 25 miles. It’s not, as they say, rocket science.

Anyway, it’s almost time to head for Dover… I’ll keep you updated!