Aventure Fantastique

Our ride started in Bussieres with a group of riders from Amis Cyclos Bussierois, the local cycling club. We rode through the beautiful Loire countryside on minor roads at a fast 20 mph. Our first stop, after 50 miles, found us eating the first, of many, sandwichs à jambon et à fromage. It was unclear how many pigs had been slaughtered to provide for this ‘ham fest’ but I never saw a live porker in the whole of the trip.

This stop not only saw the Amis return home but also me take the first, of many, rides in the accompanying bus.

My preparation, in the Alps, had been cut short by a knee injury and my plan was to build up slowly in France so as to be able to lead the way in England. In fact the question ‘How is your knee Bri-an ?’ occurred as frequently as the jambon.

Raphael lasted until the stop at Dornes at 100 miles when sore tendons saw him join me in the bus. This left 3 cyclists, Gilles our leader and guide, Roger an incredibly strong 62 year old and David, a formidable rider in his 30s, who kept the team moving at an incredible 20 mph for the whole of the 150 mile first day.

The last few miles into Nevers were perhaps the most stunning of the route. An old castle and village were picture postcard France. We stayed at an Ibis hotel and I was guided through the menu by Gilles.

Round (and Round) Chartres

After our early morning start from Nevers we passed many riders from the local

cyclo-touriste club as we followed otherwise quiet roads towards Sancere. The old, famous wine town sits on top of a hill that rises out of the flat landscape. Our way followed a long, steep climb to skirt the ramparts before plunging down the other side.

Shortly after this I joined Raphael in the bus and we continued towards the flat lands beside the River Loire.

This was the most featureless part of the journey and the cyclists had to contend with not only long, flat roads into a headwind but also the start of heavy rain. After our second jambon stop of the day, sheltering under some trees, in a one of many small French towns we continued in wind and rain towards Chartres.

Jean Luc our driver and road manager called his wife Marie Christine and Monique (Roger’s Wife) his ‘GPS’ but somehow the weather must have unsettled the satellite, because with 3 exhausted cyclists in tow we drove round Chartres in search of our hotel.

David ate too many cakes before dinner, in a attempt to counter energy loss and severe jambon imbalance, and was unable to eat his sausage, made from sheep’s intestines, at the evening meal. More of that later. The cycling shorts Gilles and I washed and hung outside on the balcony were still wet the following morning but the shoes he’d blasted with a hair dryer faired much better.



The ‘Saucisse Vert’

Raphael and I had decided to ride the last 40 of the 100 mile stage and the other 3 riders were keen to finish the ride through rural Normandy. We soon found the road out of Chartres and headed towards the coast. Although familiar with the area to the West this was a new part of France for me. The roads were quite hilly and once we were all on our bikes any thought of a steady plod to the seaside was soon dismissed as David drove us along at the regulation 20 mph.

Suddenly one of the towers of the Pont de Normandie came into view and we raced towards our objective. The idea had been to finish cycling in France at this bridge and to start riding again at the Humber Bridge; symbolic bridges between our two countries. It was an emotional moment to see the Pont rising high above the water and to ride alongside my French friends and to shake hands with each in turn.

There was no barrier between the cyclist and the busy traffic and we were also buffeted by the strong wind but nothing could detract from the joint feeling of success.

It was soon time to say ‘Au revoir’ to David as he had to travel to Paris by train, on his journey home. He had saved his sausage for this moment. Marie Christine removed it from the fridge and proceeded to scrape off the green serviette it had been wrapped in and had got stuck to the surface. With only a few traces of green left David put it in his sandwich. Most of us were still laughing when it was time to shake hands and say our thanks.

One member short we continued by bus to Calais and our rooms for the night. The moules et frites went down well as our final meal in France.



It Always Rains in England

The crossing was calm and the drive round the M25 uneventful, allowing for the road works. More road works on the M1 were followed by an accident near Chesterfield. A diversion between junctions gave us all a chance to see the crooked spire before regaining the motorway. At Barton on Humber we parked and prepared to cross our second major bridge and start the English part of the adventure.

The cycle path was separated from the road and felt much safer but at the North side of the bridge the rain started. This was not warm French rain but serious English rain. In the 12 or so miles to Beverley, on a busy main road, we were soaked by the rain and soaked again by the spray from the traffic. The Youth Hostel was in a renovated building behind the Minster. The nearby ‘real ale’ pub was notable for having ‘just run out’ of nearly everything we wanted. But a good meal and drinks were produced as we settled down to consider the next day’s ride.

Hawes was about 95 miles away and Thirsk was to be our lunch stop. The wolds offered some testing hills and the morning, overcast with a North wind but at least the B roads were quiet. About 10 miles from Thirsk, with a descent of Sutton Bank (25%) in prospect the rain started. It was very heavy at first and then got a lot worse. In a couple of miles we were soaked, a couple later we had lost the feeling in our hands, on the Bank we had lost the will to do anything. I was having hallucinations of a warm café and mugs of tea; heavens knows what my French chums were thinking about.

Standing in the rain I told Jean Luc we were going into a café. ‘But we have food in the bus.’ I think the look on my face indicated it wasn’t the time to mention the jambon. I had something in pastry with beans and the cup of tea, the others had a range of untranslatable English café food. Even after the rest, with the rain still coming down in torrents, it was decided to drive the next 40 miles to Hawes.

The subsequent change into dry clothes’ in the middle of Thirsk, will probably feature in a future edition of Crime Watch UK. The way up into the Dales was awash but, for me at least, these were familiar walled roads. I’d often thought of visiting the Wensleydale Cheese factory in Hawes and this was the ideal opportunity. A couple of hours later we were in the Youth Hostel preparing to go for a pub meal.

Whilst waiting for the food to arrive, an over enthusiastic Australian lady interrupted our discussion on real ale or whatever, to announce that ‘our wine is much better than the French stuff.’ I don’t know the French expression for ‘red rags and bulls’ but she was soon put in her place.

In the morning the Benthams arrived at Hawes Hostel and whilst Judeth drove back to prepare for our homecoming John joined us on the ride. The pace up to Newby Head was as fast as ever, a rude awakening for John but he was soon leading us down towards Ingleton. We mislaid John Luc on the outskirts but with the wonders of the mobile phone network we were reunited at Greta Bridge for the final section. The climb through Gressingham was taken at a steady tempo and we were soon on the final miles to Nether Kellet.

.We had had our serious moments on the ride, the long days, the strong wind on the Loire and the cold rain on Sutton Bank but we’d had plenty of fun, the ‘green sausage’, the French ‘outdoor toilets’ and chatting to old and new friends. At the goodbye stage of any expedition there is always a sense of sadness but also the knowledge that the friendships forged will last. I was privileged to have taken part in the cycle ride between Bussieres and the Kellets; it was an example of ‘extreme twinning.’

In the party were Monique CHAIZE, Marie Christine BASCOL, Roger CHAIZE, Jean Luc BASCOL, Raphaël MICOLON, Brian GREENWOOD and Gilles PEYRARD.

Brian Greenwood 

September 2006