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Diary of a London to Paris Cycle: Prologue

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Our cycling on the fourth day didn’t quite end under the most famous of French landmarks. We still had a couple of miles to cycle in order to get to our hotel for the evening; the rather nice Hotel Concorde Montpasse. Definitely the nicest of the trip, though by this point I doubt anyone would argue that we deserved it.

It was only a couple of miles uphill to where we could get off our bikes for the final time in France. They were to be taken back to England that night and we would pick them up at St Pancras the following day. As for now though, it was time to celebrate.

A beer and a chat was called for before we all headed off to have a shower and get ready for the evening. The absolute and overwhelming relief at having done it was immense at this point. However, the feeling of joy was tinged with an ever-so-slight reluctance to let it come to an end. Though we didn’t let that spoil our evening.

Some of the guys

Dinner was at 8pm and followed a congratulatory speech by the organisers. Although delicious (a cheesy Yorkshire pudding-esque starter, followed by steak and a chocolate desert), it was over far too quickly. We didn’t waste any time afterwards and headed straight over to a bar we had been told would be the focal point of the evening’s frivolities. Although an English pub in the middle of Paris wouldn’t ordinarily have been my first choice, the company and cheesy Anglo-American music (mixed with French europop and a steady flow of alcohol), made for a great night of dancing and celebration. We ended it on the sofas in the hotel lobby, chatting away until very late into the night.

I awoke the following morning at the very reasonable hour of 8am (having only slept for around three hours), with just the very slightest of hangovers. I wanted to get out for a walk before catching the Eurostar back to London. This was not only due to wanting to see a little bit of Paris again whilst I was there, but also that I didn’t want to go from four days of pretty intensive exercise to nothing at all. So I left my suitcase in the baggage area of the hotel and walked two miles to the Eiffel Tower and then back again, following the route marked by the arrows set out for us the day before.

I met up with some other guys back at the hotel and we decided to head over to the Gare du Nord by taxi so that we could be sure we were there in time for the train (with only the slightest faux pas occurring when one chap forgot which country he was in and tried to get in the driver’s seat). We could then explore the area surrounding the station if we wanted a walk. It turned out that after meeting even more people at the station, all anyone really wanted to do was get something to eat. So it was to McDonalds with them, whilst I planned on waiting until I was on the train before grabbing a bite (I don’t do McDonalds).

Back at the station, I picked up some chocolates for the folk back home (despite the risk of melting in the sweltering summer heat) and we headed for border control. Once through, I spent up all of the euros I’d brought on a couple of bottles of red wine (as you do).

I took a nap on the journey back, which isn’t like me at all, but I guess the whole trip and my lack of sleep the night before had taken it out of me. Once back at St Pancras we all headed over to where I bikes had been dropped off. This was the last time to shake hands and congratulate everyone on a job well done. I must admit to getting a little sad as I walked my bike and luggage back into the station and up to the platform for the train back to Bedford. Within a couple of hours I was home, the bike in the shed and my arse on the sofa, as though the previous week simply hadn’t happened. But I’ll always have the memories of the trip and the desire to get out there and try more things.

Would I recommend a holiday cycling from London to Paris? Without hesitation.

Diary of a London to Paris Cycle: Day Four – Beauvais to Paris

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Excitement permeated every part of my being this morning.

This was it. The very last day of the trip. There was very little that could go wrong now. We were only 50 miles from the Eiffel Tower and I knew we had plenty of time to get there.

The plan was to cycle up to the Eiffel Tower between 3 and 5pm that afternoon, which gave us plenty of time in the morning to get the bulk of it out of the way. Once more, we were told we could leave any time between 7:30 and 8:30am, based upon how long we thought we would need to get there. Although I knew I wasn’t one of those likely to be at the back, just like yesterday I wanted to get a head start to make sure I got there without any mechanical issues. So I headed out just after 7:30 on the final leg of the journey.

There was very little to get excited about before the first water stop, except for an extremely steep road which was heavy in traffic and looped the side of quite a tall hill. My speed slowed to something of a crawl at that point, though I was very pleased to find myself making it all the way up without getting off the bike. It seemed that my body had begun to adapt to the pressures of long-distance cycling, though it did take a mile or so to recover on the other side. It was fairly up and down all the way to the first stop, though nothing which came close to what I’d already seen.

Taking a break over lunch

I was the first to arrived at the water stop, but was joined within moments by someone who had set out a good 45 minutes after I’d started that morning. His speed was clearly much greater than my own! I had plenty of time to relax and look at the horses in the adjacent field as I waited for the majority of other cyclists to arrive.

Eventually I was off again for another 20-odd miles towards Paris. The countryside turned into buildings after not too long, as I found myself entering the outskirts of the capital. No matter what happened at this point, I had technically made it from London to Paris under my own steam.

Large roads became winding, one-way and pot-holed side streets, with traffic galore weaving in and out of parked cars. I was now often travelling faster than some of the vehicles picking their way through, leading to many heart-in-mouth moments when I had to slam on the brakes to save from being taken out by errant Frenchman in Citroens.

After a few miles of this I once more found myself back on a major road, but now plagued by an endless series of red lights as well as beeping horns. The stop-start nature of the journey into Paris – especially after such a long trip prior to this – starts to play havoc on the knees and shoulders, as you constantly try to get back up to speed before being abruptly stopped once more. This section seemed to take forever, until eventually, completely shattered, I reached the Seine. This was it. I could definitely claim I’d made it into Paris now, although I was still a few miles from the centre.

A short turn off the main road and we were into a park where the caterers had started to set up for the very last time. I reached this point as one of the first 20 or so to arrive, meaning a long wait of around two hours before it was time to set off again. This left me with plenty of opportunity to take a few photos and to enjoy my pasta lunch. By this time the whole group was getting excited and I think most of us wanted to get on with the day by the time we eventually left the park.

The route started out quite pleasantly along a small road by the river, but this soon turned into a major one as we crossed the Seine once more, making sure we were on the correct side to reach the holding point. It was whilst crossing the river that we got our first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower standing off in the distance, waiting for us to arrive. But first we had another few miles of traffic lights to get through and the holding point to reach. This didn’t take very long at all and we were soon in another park, waiting for everyone else to arrive so that we could all make the final push into the centre of Paris together.

This is where we all donned our “I cycled London to Paris 2011″ t-shirts and awaited our final briefing before hopping back on our bikes and heading out.

I imagine the short ride from the park to the Eiffel Tower will be one of those events which stays with me forever. A car at the front and a car at the back, with 137 cyclist in between taking over the cobbled streets of Paris. We hit a steady pace of around 5mph as we cheered, honked horns and rang bells to everyone we passed. The people cheered back and took photographs, welcoming us to Paris in a way that Londoners would never reciprocate.

Me at the Eiffel Tower

Soon we were cycling up Avenue Foch with the Arc de Triomphe up ahead of us. I must admit to a flutter of apprehension as I saw the landmark looming over us. I’ve been to Paris before and know full-well just what the traffic is like as it circles the arch. I needn’t have worried though. Just as we approached, the car from the back sped forward and out on to the roundabout before coming to a halt, allowing us all to enter without danger. Even the cars we were causing to stop were honking their horns in genuine celebration of our achievement.

We were off the roundabout after only a couple of junctions as we headed down Avenue d’Iéna. Flouting several traffic laws, we headed along Avenue des Nations Unites before the Tower final rose above us. As we cycled along the front of the Trocadéro, hundreds of tourists cheered us along, taking photographs and making our final journey into the heart of Paris all the more memorable. The cycle wasn’t quite over though as we left the Eiffel Tower briefly as we skirted around the block to the roundabout at Place Jacques Rueff, just on the other side. This was it.

The group made two celebratory laps of the roundabout in front of friends and family who had made the trip over to welcome people in. There were hugs, tears, photographs and, most importantly, Champagne awaiting us at the finish line. We had all made it to Paris, the majority under their own steam, a few not quite managing the whole trip. But nonetheless, we were all here having experienced something that most of us had never come close to before. Emotions were running very high at that point as cyclists began to realise what they had each accomplished. We had all done something amazing and raised thousands of pounds for charity in the process.

You’ll find the third part of this little adventure here.

Route Map


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The ride details from Day Four:

  • Started: 25 Jun 2011 07:29:47
  • Ride Time: 4:21:38
  • Stopped Time: 3:46:53
  • Distance: 52.46 miles
  • Average Speed: 12.03 miles/h
  • Fastest Speed: 39.64 miles/h
  • Ascent: 1451 feet
  • Descent: 1860 feet

 

Diary of a London to Paris Cycle: Day Three – Abbeville to Beauvais

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I had an overwhelming feeling this morning that everything was going to be fine.

Moments after waking up I realised that we were now over halfway to Paris. The bulk of what needed to be done was over with and the next two days promised to be much shorter and much easier rides than the first two had been. At least, that’s what everyone was saying. They were certainly right about today.

After a quick breakfast I shot outside to hand my bike over to the mechanic. We’d been told that we could leave whenever we wanted to today, so I decided to get out as early as possible in case I ran into difficulties and I had to stop for a while somewhere further down the line. But first I needed to get the mechanic to take a look at my brakes, which I’d been having issues with yesterday. This took longer than I would have hoped as it seems day three is the one in which everyone starts to break down.

It was half an hour before he’d got round to realigning them and ensuring the cables weren’t loose. But then I was away and heading towards the final stop before Paris; the town of Beauvais.

This was much, much better than the first two days. I set off with a friend who’d been staying in the same hotel as me (for this article I shall call him Stuart, as that was his name). It didn’t take too long to get out of Abbeville and we were pretty soon off the main road altogether. A fairly steep climb followed the junction off the major route, though this didn’t last too long. We soon came across what would be the key theme for the day; rolling hills of wheat, stunning scenery and beautiful little villages that you would blink and miss, even on a bike.

After not too long we came to one of the most challenging hills of the ride and I must admit that it was beyond me. Stuart managed a little further up the hill before coming to the same conclusion and walked the rest of the way. We stood at the top for a while, taking in the scenery and congratulating those following us who had made it without stopping. We were soon on our way again and it wasn’t long before Stuart pulled away and I began cycling the rest of the day as I’d done the previous one; at my own pace. The key is to make it to Paris, not to tire myself out before the last day.

War graves dot northern France.

The rest of the morning was filled with an amazingly quaint, French countryside, filled with ramshackle buildings, quiet roads and hills which rolled just enough for the downward momentum to carry you up the next. Without a shadow of a doubt, I’ve never cycled through anywhere as lovely as that countryside. It makes me want to hire a car so that I can visit once more, but next time see some of these places I rushed through.

I find not being able to stop more often a huge downside of cycling such distances through such scenery. The desire to carry on and not lose momentum is too great to consider pulling the bike over to the side of the road as much as I would have liked. I’m sure it’s a completely different situation for more seasoned cyclists, but for me it was a case of simply wanting to ensure I made it through to the end.

Lunch today was as good as it has been all week. This time it was situated on a village green, overlooked by a lovely old church and a manor house. This was the first lunch where I didn’t fear I might be rained on at any moment, as the sky continued to be as bright and blue as it had been all morning. It’s just a shame that my purple legs and arms weren’t enjoying the sun quite as much as I was!

I’d love to say the afternoon was as much fun as the morning had been, but unfortunately it wasn’t to be. Whilst the glorious weather continued, the stunning scenery did not. The roads became much busier and the surroundings much more industrial the closer I got to the town of Beauvais. It wasn’t long before the tree-lined tracks turned into trunk roads and there wasn’t a single part of me that wanted to be out in it any longer than was necessary.

Fortunately, the afternoon’s ride was much shorter than the morning’s, so it wasn’t very late in the day before I approached the outskirts of Beauvais. There was a lot more traffic building up and turning left at junctions was becoming much more hazardous than it had been. A large hill and several major roads stood in my way, but I took them with the same determination that I’d taken the rest of the trip so far. Eventually I found myself at the hotel for the evening.

Our lunch stop on the third day.

The hotel was a little different to the Ibis in that it was laid out much more like an American motel, with all of the rooms leading straight outside. To my delight, I found a bath waiting for me when I finally left my bike with the organisers and collected my luggage. It was a little painful around the sunburnt areas, but it was so relaxing after three days of almost non-stop cycling.

Our main course of lasagne was a little bland, but the buffet starter was absolutely superb. Pastas, breads, cheeses, vegetables, meats, Parma ham, pate, anchovies; the list went on and on. Needless to say, I made it through two platefuls of starter before the lasagne arrived.

Once more I found I was far too tired to stay up any later than 10pm, so headed straight to bed after dinner. When I woke in the morning it was going to be the last day. Only one more day and I’d be in Paris. I’d no idea what to expect, but the nerves had come back in full force. Pretty soon I would be cycling through the mean streets of the French capital. Scary stuff!

You’ll find the second part of this little adventure here. Day Four can be found right here!

Route Map

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The ride details from Day Two:

  • Started: 24 Jun 2011 08:33:19
  • Ride Time: 5:01:43
  • Stopped Time: 2:17:27
  • Distance: 64.63 miles
  • Average Speed: 12.85 miles/h
  • Fastest Speed: 30.55 miles/h
  • Ascent: 2360 feet
  • Descent: 1392 feet

 

Diary of a London to Paris Cycle Ride: Day Two – Calais to Abbeville

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Pain. But not as much pain as I’d envisaged. It turned out that I was more adept at cycling than I believed I was. Of course I was always going to be a little bit tired after cycling for almost 100 miles yesterday, but this morning I found myself more than capable of both waking and standing up. I perhaps hadn’t got as much sleep as I’d have probably liked, given we didn’t get to the hotel until pretty late last night. And we had to be out of the hotel and away early today due to their being a time-trial cycling event taking place in the area later in the morning.

One of many tiny villages I cycled through on Day Two

So I set off from the Ibis hotel in Calais to the starting point at the other hotel the group had been staying at. At least, that’s what I thought I’d been doing. I set out and followed a set of arrows away from the hotel and out into the countryside. It was after two and a half miles that I thought something was wrong, and after having not seen an arrow for quite some time, I set off back to the hotel. It was a good job as it turned out that I’d been following the wrong set. So after a five mile trip I finally made it to the start. Not the best way to begin a 75 mile cycle.

I’d been reliably informed that northern France was quite flat. I can assure you, dear reader, that northern France is not flat at all. The route from Calais seemed to keep rising for at least 20 miles, and it wasn’t until we reached the first water stop of the day that it began to flatten out. But even then it wasn’t the landscape I had been expecting. Relative flatness with the odd extreme hill thrown in for good measure. A very tiring morning all-in-all, made more tiring by the long cycle from yesterday and my sprint from earlier on to try and make sure I got to the start before everyone set off.

It was around this time that I decided to change tactics. I had made an attempt throughout yesterday and today to stick with a group of people. I figured this was best in case I got into trouble with the bike. Unfortunately, due to our varying speeds (their’s being much faster than my own) I was lagging behind and constantly tiring myself out whilst trying to catch up. If I continued at that pace I would never make the rest of the day, let alone try and get to Paris over the next two. So I slowed it down from around an average of 13mph to 11mph.

And what a difference it made! I soon started to enjoy the ride, rather than seeing it as something to struggle against. My decision to meet up with people at water stops rather than trying to keep up with them all day worked an absolute treat. I even managed to stop off in a cafe with them when I recognised their bikes lined up outside.

The cafe we stopped at on Day Two

Lunch was in a forest, just over the halfway point for the day. There is nothing finer than someone stood with an array of free food after you’ve been struggling up hills all morning. The sky was threatening rain, but it never really reared its ugly head. Instead the sun came out for the afternoon as I continued on my way to Abbeville. The roads became much smaller at this point, turning from wide A-style roads to more rural tracks, though all perfectly well maintained.

Which is something else I had been reliably informed about France; that the roads are perfect. This is also something of a misnomer. Whilst they are perfectly well maintained for cars (probably due to the lack of traffic you’ll see on most French rural routes to wear them down), the vast majority that I cycled on had a concrete top layer and not Tarmac. This makes them extremely bumpy and quite painful on the arms and bottom. It gets so bad in places that you have to worry about the condition your bike is going to be in at the end of it.

Lunch on Day Two

The afternoon was bathed in an extreme of heat. Not great for me as I’d forgotten to put any sun cream on. I could feel my arms and legs start to grow pinker and pinker, through to a rather dashing shade of purple which was agony to touch.

Eventually the day was over once more and I found myself located in another Ibis hotel; this time in the town of Abbeville. I hadn’t quite made it in one piece though. Around 100 metres from the finish the footstrap on my right-hand peddle came off. One of the screws had seemingly fallen off, with the other one left hanging. It meant that I couldn’t cycle with it up to the hotel, so had to work the very short distance up the hill. I was also starting to have problems with the brakes. The back ones were beginning to make a scraping sound as though the pads had worn down too much. Definitely something for the mechanic to take a look at.

The evening brought with it one of the worst meals I’ve ever eaten. The buffet starter was a selection of five very poor salad foods, followed by a main of extremely bland chicken and chips. They obviously fell for the old stereotype that the English only eat bland foods and lumbered us with what they could scrape out of the bottom of the freezer.

I was still far too knackered to think about heading out to the hotel bar for a drink, so headed back to my room after the meal for a sleep and to await the third day of cycling, from Abbeville to Beauvais.

You’ll find the first part of this little adventure here. Day Three can be found here!

Route Map

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The ride details from Day Two:

  • Started: 23 Jun 2011 05:34:04
  • Ride Time: 7:27:30
  • Stopped Time: 2:26:29
  • Distance: 81.91 miles
  • Average Speed: 10.98 miles/h
  • Fastest Speed: 33.14 miles/h
  • Ascent: 2360 feet
  • Descent: 2240 feet

 

Diary of a London to Paris Cycle Ride: Day One – London to Calais

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Nerves. Massive, massive nerves. I’ve rarely felt so apprehensive about anything in my life. The prospect of starting a 300-mile journey by bicycle is not one which should really be taken lightly. Unfortunately, with my lack of training I feared that’s exactly what I had done. An event which was forever something which would be happening in the future suddenly snuck up and stood towering over me like the horrendously-designed Crystal Palace Lodge we stayed in last night.

The dingy hotel we stayed in the night before the trip began

The place was clearly designed by people who didn’t care, for people whom they simply didn’t care about. The whole place seems built specifically to be a fire hazard, with one central spiralling staircase, lifts which hold only three people at a time and an exterior clad in wood. It’s not the nicest place to stay. It’s also not the nicest place to eat breakfast, as the powdered eggs attested to. The hotel’s one saving grace was the pool table, which allowed us a few moments to clear our minds the evening before of what was to come.

It was all over soon enough though, as this morning we headed over to the steps still standing from The Great Exhibition of 1851. I wondered whether I would still be standing at the end of this little adventure.

Our bags were taken from us and loaded into the back of a van, ready to be taken straight over to Calais. This was it. There was time for a quick briefing before we set off as a group of 137 cyclists towards Dover.

Riding in a large group for the first time is an experience in itself. The very first stretch of the journey took us downhill, making everyone extra cautious about their speed and about bumping into people around them. It wasn’t long however before the group started to split, with the front runners heading off quicker than the rest and others getting stuck at traffic lights and succumbing to early bike failures. We had barely left the park at Crystal Palace before the first person’s chain came off. I’m very glad to say that it wasn’t me.

Here's me, nervous as hell, before we set off

Cycling through the streets of London didn’t seem to take too long and we were soon out into the countryside and in all of the dangers that brings. Narrow roads, speeding cars and some of the steepest hills you wouldn’t want to walk up, let alone cycle. One such hill occurred at around ten miles in. We had all been warned about it at the briefing, but I don’t think anyone was really prepared for encountering a hill with a 25% incline. Needless to say, I, and the vast majority of people, clambered (or fell) off their bikes at some point going up that hill. Even walking the rest of it was a struggle. Most stopped at the top for a well-deserved rest.

Then it was off again. The key to a journey like this is to split it into sections. I decided on the lengths of training sessions I had done. My regular Sunday morning trip would take in between 25 and 30 miles, so that’s how I split the day in my head. These roughly two-hour chunks helped to focus the mind on what I was doing, and I was able to ignore the fact that I still had another 80 miles to travel that day!

Pretty soon the weather decided that it didn’t like us and promptly let the heavens open. I had unfortunately left my waterproof jacket in my suitcase and wouldn’t be able to get hold of it until the evening. I was also only wearing a pair of regular trainers and a normal t-shirt, which meant that every single bit of me got soaked during the morning.

Lunch in the pouring rain on our first day of cycling

Eventually, following a mid-morning water stop, we reached lunch at a village sports ground. It was still throwing it down, so after grabbing our meal of pasta, potatoes and bread, most of us squeezed into the ladies and gents’ changing rooms. Not the most pleasant place to eat given how filthy it was and how there wasn’t a door between us and the toilets, but we were all too shattered and soaking wet to care.

By this point we had travelled just over halfway to Dover and still had plenty of cycling to do. We were in luck though and it wasn’t too long before the skies cleared and we were treated to a bit of sun to dry us out.

One of the problems with cycling such large distances is that you don’t get to see as much of the scenery as you would expect to. Much of the day is spent concentrating hard on the road ahead, looking for traffic and pot-holes, trying to the stay out of trouble. The last thing you want to do on the first day is run into problems. The only real issue we had all day though was that someone had stolen one of the arrows which guided us through our trip. We ended up taking a slight detour as a group of around 20, but due to some impressive map-reading skills we soon ended up back on track.

Much of the rest of the journey was a blur, with tiredness taking over frequently and an overwhelming desire to get to Dover. Then, ten miles from the end, I got a puncture on the back tyre. Whilst slowing down to take a look I ended up toppling into a bush. Fortunately neither the bike nor myself were damaged, so I pulled over to the side of the road to replace the inner tube.

At this point I was joined by a small group of people infinitely more qualified to replace an inner tube than myself, so I was away again in around 20 minutes for the final leg of the day.

We made it to Dover!

The sense of sheer jubilation at reaching the outskirts of Dover was overwhelming, and I let out a shout for joy the first time I heard a seagull. It was only a few minutes more before I pulled up to where everyone else was gathering. I left my bike with one of the organisers and headed into the local pub to meet up with the cyclists who had already made it. I was rather pleased to note that I wasn’t the last to come in, and it gave me enough time to have a drink and make a couple of phone calls before we headed over to France.

Once everyone had turned up we got back on our bikes for the short trip down the road to the ferry port where, much to our dismay, we had a very long wait out in the cold for the stragglers to turn up. Even then we had more waiting to do on the quayside as the ferry was stuck out at sea for thirty minutes in rough waters. By this point we were all tired, sweaty and must have stunk to high heaven. We were all gathered in one of the holding points normally reserved for cars, shivering in the cold wind.

Our first view of Calais from the ferry

Eventually we were told we could cycle onto the ferry before the cars and lorries. So it was up the ramp, bikes into storage and ourselves into the restaurant for some celebratory fish & chips. Whether it was because I was tired, or because they were genuinely that good, but I don’t remember enjoying a meal more than I did on that boat.

Whilst it was nice to be on the ferry, it wasn’t time to become complacent. It was true that we had accomplished our longest single distance, but we weren’t done for the day. Once in Calais we cycled off the boat and headed in convoy to our hotels. A long, slow journey kept at a crawl so that everyone could keep up with the truck.

Finally, after cycling for 96.37 miles, we got to our hotel for the evening at nearly 10pm. There was time for nothing but a shower to scrub the day off before collapsing into bed.

You’ll find the second part of this little adventure here.

Route Map

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The ride details from Day One:

  • Started: 22 Jun 2011 07:06:59
  • Ride Time: 7:49:04
  • Stopped Time: 6:52:10
  • Distance: 96.37 miles
  • Average Speed: 12.33 miles/h
  • Fastest Speed: 33.26 miles/h
  • Ascent: 3198 feet
  • Descent: 3473 feet