Cycling safety... let's go Dutch....

You may have seen on TV, or read about, the recent 'Ride London' cycling event - billed as the London marathon on wheels - 50,000 cyclists riding around the closed roads of London, there is some latent irony in the situation that encourages more of us to take up cycling while cycling fatalities and serious injuries increased for the eighth year in a row. 122 cyclists were killed and 3,222 were seriously injured last year. It seems on the one hand we're being encouraged to cycle, but on the other, roads are a hostile environment for cyclists - there's an underlying conflict.

We should 'go Dutch' the experts say. If we want to take cycling seriously and encourage a cycling revolution then we need to invest in infrastructure and look at places like the Netherlands. We have a conflict between cyclists, motorists and pedestrians because of the way our roads are laid out. Conflict in Amsterdam is a rare sight because of the design and set up of the road system. Bikes expect cars and cars expect bikes - it's a forgiving place. Holland has 18,000 miles of cycle routes - most are segregated and wide enough for cyclists to ride two abreast - and there are bike-parking places in abundance. Roundabouts and junctions have special provision for cyclists, who take priority. Unlike Britain, Holland includes cycling as a mandatory component of its national school curriculum.

But Holland has not always been a cycling utopia. In 1971 more than 3000 cyclists were killed by motor vehicles - 40 of them children - and a mainstream protest movement swept the country as the oil crisis struck. The government invested heavily in cycling infrastructure - now 60% of all journeys in Amsterdam are made by bicycle and 27% nationwide. In Britain only a woeful 2% of trips are made by bike. This vast difference is mostly explained by state spending. In the Netherlands the authorities spend £30 a head per year on cycling. In the UK the figure is just £2.22.

But things may be about to change - the recent investment by the government in cycling is a start and many councils are already determined to make roads more cycle friendly. Cambridge claims to be the cycling capital of the UK with half of its residents cycling at least once a week and 23% of all journeys being made by bike. This year the council estimates it will spend £3m on cycling schemes, some of which will include altering junctions to improve safety and linking villages with business parks. The council is also aiming to emulate the Dutch by cutting speed limits to 20mph and creating segregated cycle lanes through new developments. In Bristol, 20mph limits have been introduced and it is now estimated that 10% of the city's population cycle more than three times a week. In London, a city with 1m cyclists, the biggest changes are still to come - Boris Johnson has outlined his plan to spend £1bn over the next decade on the capital's cycling infrastructure - his plans equate to a spend of £12.50 per head per year.

When might roads start to look and feel like those in Amsterdam - sadly no time soon. It took Amsterdam 40 years - and it is a much bigger job over here - it won't happen overnight.

What is needed for the cycling revolution is a rethink of our approach - in the UK cyclists are at the bootom of the hierarchy when it comes to road planning - its cars first then the rest follow. The Parliamentary cycling group has however acknowledged that there are 'huge economic benefits from increasing cycling - there is less damage to the roads, less congestion, more commerec and huge savings on health.

Next month there will be a Commons debate on proposals including more investment in cycle lanes, lower speed limits and improved training for cyclists and drivers - one of the key recommendations is to increase spending to at least £10 per person - but if Britain's road users are to co-exist in any kind of harmony the loathing that poisons relations between motorists and cyclists must be transformed into one of respect.

Record Investment in Cycling.....

Prime Minister David Cameron today announced "the biggest single injection of cash for the country" for cycling, with £94 million confirmed investment to improve safety and "cycle-proof" our roads.

Manchester, Leeds, Birmingham, Newcastle, Bristol, Cambridge, Oxford and Norwich will together receive £77 million, while the New Forest, Peak District, South Downs and Dartmoor will share £17 million National Parks funding.

With local contributions the total cash injection for cycling will be £148 million between now and 2015.
The Prime Minister said: "Following our success in the Olympics, the Paralympics and the Tour de France, British cycling is riding high - now we want to see cycling soar.

"This government wants to make it easier and safer for people who already cycle as well as encouraging far more people to take it up and business, local government, developers, road users and the transport sector all have a role to play in helping to achieve this."

The announcement included the intention to put Britain on a level footing with countries like Germany, Denmark and the Netherlands.

Councils and the Highways Agency will be expected to "up their game", making sure cycling is taken into account from the design stage on trunk road and traffic schemes like road widening and junction improvements.

Brian Cookson OBE, President of British Cycling, said: "It is very encouraging that Mr Cameron has shown leadership by recognising that better provision for people who want to travel by bike is fundamental to modern transport policy."

Chris Boardman, British Cycling's policy advisor, produced a video www.britishcycling.org.uk. He said: "Put simply, cycle-proofing is about ensuring that cycling is designed into all new roads and junctions. The goal should be to make any new infrastructure safer for cyclists, more convenient and make it a more desirable thing to do."

Hospitals....

Already the Paris trip seems a dim and distant memory - one of the good things about writing stuff on this blog is that I get the chance to read it too - sometimes I think - 'did we really do that?'

I went out on the bike for a couple of rides last weekend - I got a soaking on one trip and developed a brake problem on the back wheel - since then I've struggled to rectify the problem - I've lost patience and, frankly, I don't have the time. I've booked the bike into hospital for a week or two - I'm going on holiday - well it's not a holiday in the strictest sense - it won't be peaceful, restful, restorative - it involves children, four of them, a couple below ten years of age - I'll need a holiday to recover from the holiday... so the best thing is to send the bike to the doctors while I'm away - and I know just the Man - Adrian Timmis. He who is one of the few Englishmen to have competed in and completed The Tour de France. And so it will be. I'll take my old bike to the quiet lanes of North Devon and get out when I can - meantime, my bike will be in pristine condition whence I return. Easy really.

Whilst on the subject of getting repairs done, doctors, hospitals etc, I need to inform you that my long time collaborator Mr Gazza Gee has been under the knife in recent weeks. He's been suffering with a dodgy knee for sometime now - on occasion it swells up like a melon, other times it doesn't bother him - it's been worse when just walking around; biking doesn't seem to escalate the problem - but sometimes you'd see Gaz limping around and think, he'll have to get that sorted. And he has. In he was whisked last week on a sunny Thursday morning, general anaesthetic, surgeon into his knee, a bit of a scrape out and he was home by mid afternoon - I've seen the photo's, all the grisly details - too scary to post on this site but he seems to be making good progress - no riding for a while - but that's to be expected.

So, give us a week ... my bike should be better, Gary's knee will be pristine and we'll be riding an Audax to herald the end of Summer - all is good.

London to Paris - part 6 - Homeward Bound....

Monday 22nd July 2013

We're up early again! - 7.00am down for breakfast ready for our taxi to the Eurostar station. Everyone else has the same idea and there's a queue of taxi's outside the foyer at 8.00am.

We get across Paris without any problems, and soon we're checked in and ready for the return trip. The train doesn't look anything special - I was expecting some sort of bullet shaped, high-tec technology - this looks pretty much like any other train - soon we're away and before we know it we're at the Channel - and then in London. We depart Paris at 10.15 and arrive in London at 11.40 - that's fast.

Our coach is ready and waiting to transport us back to the hotel and our bikes - but getting through London and out to Croydon takes as long as the journey from Paris.

Our bikes are waiting and we pause to reflect what a good job has been done by the organisers in terms of logistics - it really has worked smoothly - and now the car is loaded and we're heading for the M25 and homeward bound. We stop just once on the way back for some lunch - we're both hungry now and a burger and fries does the trick. I'm still drained and tired and nod off in the car - then we're home.

It all feels dream like now as I reflect and write these few notes. My injuries have healed and my back isn't hurting quite as much - my legs feel good and I'm not as tired - but I wouldn't change any of those things - it was an iconic trip - one that is well worth all the hardship and toil. Now we just need to plan the next one.

Sunday 4th August 2013

It all seems a distant memory already - I've been out on my bike a few times since getting back - first time my bum was really sore - remarkable seeing that I've never suffered in that area before - but as Oscar Wilde might have said - "If your bum isn't hurting you're not doing it properly"

I had also expected that the few hills around here, mere pimples compared to what we encountered across the channel, might have seemed easier now. Sadly that hasn't been the case - the bloody things are just as hard. I went out this morning for a short blast - my bike isn't performing too well - for some reason the rear brake is binding slightly - it started since getting a soaking on Friday - these machines are highly strung like thoroughbred racehorses or high performance sportscars - there always seems to be a niggle. I'll get it sorted - just a question of how and when.

We are talking about our next challenge - What?, where?, when? - Ashby to Amsterdam?, maybe.  A trip to the Alps and a climb up Alpe d'Huez - daunting but another possibility? - Ireland maybe? - North to South, East to West, The Ring of Kerry? - Or what about Italy? - The L'Eroica maybe?  The possibilities are many and varied - I know I need a challenge though - something to aim at; a reason to go out in the cold, dark,wet, winter months - a target to keep me riding - and suffering! Keep visiting - you'll know what we're doing almost as soon as we do.

London to Paris - part 5 - Paris for The Tour de France....

Sunday 21st July 2013

I woke at around 11.00am - in fact Gary woke me as he staggered around the room - I felt awful and just needed sleep - Gaz decided on walking down to the centre with Stephen our farmer friend from Suffolk. I said I'd see them later and pulled the blanket over to shield the spears of hot, bright sunlight.

I wished I had kept clear of the club last night - we were so misplaced in there - I should have retired, not out, at a more respectable time. Too late now - but another hour or two in bed should sort it - I set the alarm on my phone for 1.00pm.

Instantly it was 1.00pm - I felt no better - but got up anyway and made a wavy line for the shower. Gradually I was feeling human again - I wandered down and out of the Hotel - heading in a vague, uninformed way to where I thought the Eiffel Tower would be. Within four-hundred metres of the hotel I went past a Blues club - we went in the wrong direction last night. The sun was hot and my dehydration needed attention - I stopped at a cafe for coffee and a bottle of water - there was a piano player singing 'Those were the days' in French. I moved on - using google maps to direct me - I was shocked to see that I had to walk almost 6km - my legs were tired, my feet hurt - I almost turned back - then Gary called - he and Stephen were at the Eiffel Tower - where was I?..... On my way I told him - but at least an hour away - I told him I'd call him when I was close.

I paused at a random green patch, caught in the intestines of concrete like trapped wind. A sit down - it's just too hot, i'm grateful that the bench is in shade. I realise that wandering around the streets of Paris is pretty much the same as the streets anywhere, .... all the International brands and universal labels are here in their masses - the old Paris, the pensions and bistros, 10f menus, coffee with chicory in bowls and Pastis at 9.00am have vanished. But that's not to say there aren't still places to be seen and stylish people to see - you just have to work harder. The characters are still there - the cabinet minister with the drooling lip, eating oysters with one hand; the French pop star dressed entirely in black leather with dark glasses the size of satellite dishes; the old glamour model with her dog; the father with his daughter, or perhaps a friend of his daughter, the mournful, gargoyled faced waiter.

Finally, after what seemed like a journey lasting days, there it was. The ultimate landmark - 324 metres of latticed iron work - the most visited pay-to-enter monument in the world.  I couldn't quite understand how it had remained hidden from me for so long - it's not exactly small - You could say it was an eyeful..... I strolled along the Seine in the general direction, I bought another bottle of water from a street vendor and sat on a bench overlooking the river and the city beyond. I'm close now - but feeling extraordinarily tired. At last I cross the Seine and I'm on the Champs Elysees - there are people lining the streets already, their places claimed next to the barriers. There are a lot of Union flags and people wearing Mark Cavendish masks. The atmosphere is building, there are various 'official' trailers selling merchandise and the usual food stands. The smell of onions fried in fat and water and then scorched on a hot plate is something that England has given to the world - I imagine this is a smell that the Crusaders would recognise - all the way from Tilbury to Acre.

I arrive at the half-way point, the Arc de Triumphe is up the hill and I'm around the finishing line. I can see they're setting up the podium for the winner and there's a big screen here too. I buy another bottle of water and a can of coke and call Gary. He's on the other side somewhere but says he'll wander over. I need to sit down but the only place I can find is a bench under the full intensity of the blazing sun - I don't care - I take a seat and drink the coke in a couple of gulps - I start sipping the water and listening to the other people sitting around me. There are a husband and wife from Evesham - he has a strong Birmingham accent. He sits on the other side of the bench whilst his wife sits on the floor - he talks loudly of watching the Tour on TV and how he much prefers Phil Liggett commentating to Sean Kelly. His wife says nothing. Then he seems to be assembling something, looks like a box, not sure where it came from but he offers it too his wife as a makeshift seat - she declines and stays on the floor. There are another four people sitting immediately behind me. They are Scottish, two couples. One of the men bears an uncanny likeness to a younger George Clooney - the other man is older and dressed in cycling attire including what looks like a recent purchase of a 'King of the Mountains' polka dotted jersey. They get chatting to the Birmingham couple - The Scots have been on holiday to the South and the older man has climbed Alpe d'Huez and The Galibier - he tells of riding up d'Huez before The Tour passed through - the crowds were already assembled and gave him much encouragement. It's about an hour since I spoke to Gaz - and I spot him wandering through the crowd. We decide to get another bottle of water and then move away from the crowds to a patch of grass for a lie down. It's about 3.30pm - The Tour won't be here until around 8.00pm - it's going to be a long, tiring wait.

We hear an announcement from the podium. ....'And the winner of the 100th Tour de France .... Christopher Froome'... and then the national anthem starts playing. They're practising the winners presentation - people start to sing along ... they even have people dressed in cycling gear on the podium waving to the crowd - it seems like nothing is left to chance. Then there's an open topped car riding along the Champs Elysees, in it a collection of past Tour winners - Eddy Merckx (the greatest of all cyclists), Miguel Indurain, Bernhard Hinault and Gregg LeMond. Then there's a childrens' race. We hear that parts of the tarmac are melting - we know about that - there's a vehicle like a big road-sweeper that rolls around the course sweeping away debris. All the time the crowd is getting bigger, swelling now with anticipation. The big screen flickers into life and we watch the riders setting off on the final stage. It's a relaxed day for most of the peloton - the tradition is that no one attacks the yellow jersey on the last day - the race is won, it's over - all that remains is the battle for the stage victory - for the sprinters - and a chance for Mark Cavendish to make it five consecutive victories on the Champs Elysees.

It will be another couple of hours before the Tour arrives in Paris - I'm flagging now - my legs ache, my skin is burning, I'm still suffering from last night - we realise we should have stayed in the Hotel and come down at around 6.00pm - there's a lot of waiting around for The Tour - which is fine if you're prepared, chairs, a parasol, a cool box, aspirin etc. Another can of coke and a bottle of water - I even pluck up the courage for a sausage baguette - much more stylish than a hot dog. Then, at last, The Tour caravan arrives in town - you don't get to see this on TV - a procession of vehicles, floats, displays featuring the various sponsors who parade around the course throwing out samples and bits and pieces - after that the riders are approaching - there's a long procession of outriders and cars then the riders speed into view, there's a surge and a cheer from the crowd as they fly past - its all over in the blink of an eye, as they head up to the Arc de Triumphe - then they come past again on the opposite side - its deceiving on TV - they don't look to be going very fast - in real life they are - and there's a distinct sound as 180 or so riders fly past. We watch on the big screen to see what's happening on the rest of the course, and wait for another blink of action as they come round again. All the time the tension is building - Cav gets a puncture, can he get back on the pace? Will it take too much energy, can he win for the fifth time on the trot? - The final lap sees the tempo lifted - they're really moving now - we know what that road surface is like, it's cobbles, many of them broken and rutted - its a shaky, unstable surface that rattles rider and bike - we can only imagine what it feels like at 40mph or more.

Then it's the final lap - everyone is shouting and straining to see the action - we watch it on the big screen for a clearer view - for a second we think Cav has done it - but no - he's well beaten - its not been a great Tour for Mark Cavendish - by his standards two stage wins is a disappointment! - but he'll be back next year I'm sure - with a better lead-out train.

There's 500,000 people around the course and we think the best option is a quick getaway via the Metro back to the hotel - within 20 minutes of seing the final sprint we're in the bar of the hotel - I can't face a beer so a celebratory soda and lime has to suffice. We sit for half an hour and others arrive back - all with iPhone pics from their various vantage points - many with much better views than ours. But it's still been a memorable day - I'd a long held ambition to watch a stage of The Tour - and the final stage must be one of the best - perhaps Alpe d'Huez would be the only one comparable?

We get to bed early - totally drained, aching all over and tired - but satisfied.

London to Paris - part 4 - Criel to Paris...

Saturday July 20th 2013

We slept remarkably well - basically because we're knackered! So the prospect of just 50 miles or so into Paris provided a cheery start to the day. Breakfast was basic - as expected really - but enough to get us fuelled up and ready to roll - carrying the bikes and bags down was just as difficult as getting them up yesterday - but we managed and soon we are ready for the off.

We ride in a group through the outskirts of Criel and the first

Gary - preparing for the off

upward drag of the day - no warm-up for this one so it felt harder than it really was, then we had some flatter terrain and smooth roads before a series of rollercoaster up and downs.

We headed into Chantily - with a pretty face and a pony-tail, hanging down - we saw a group of around 10 cyclists, part of our entourage, heading back out towards us - they were looking for the route through town and said it was back the other way - Dave checked his GPS and disagreed - we decided to trust his machine - so far it had proved to be extremely trustworthy - and it proved so again. Soon we were riding through an archway and onto a cobbled road - we had been told about this - a section of road that has been used as part of the Paris-Roubaix classic race - after 50 metres I felt I had been shaken and stirred - the bike would soon drop to bits with this type of abuse - I have no idea how they race on this type of surface but like everyone else I got off and pushed the bike for the rest of the section.

The waterstop came early - I hadn't drunk anything since setting off, so no need for a bidon top-up, I enjoyed a banana instead. A few more miles and it's the lunch stop - everything is coming early today - when we arrive we are amazed at the amount of cyclists already congregated - we were towards the front of our group - how did this lot get past us? Then we find out this final stop is a joint affair with another group who had been riding in tandem with us on a different route - I wonder if their's was easier than our's - we find out that they had been more consistent with mileage - 75 miles per day - whereas we had two long hard days and then two easier ones - we decide ours was the best option.

On the outskirts of Paris

It is the last time we will be treated to the excellent food of the mobile catering team - we make the most of it and give them a round of applause at the end - then we're off again - only another 20 miles or so to do.

We start to look out for the Eiffel Tower, a beer for the first one to spot it - as we get towards the outskirts of the city the traffic gets heavier; there're lots more obstacles, lights, roundabouts etc - it seems we are stop-start-stop for miles - then there is the obligatory roadworks - it's not just the UK. But bikes are great for weaving through traffic and we are soon on the other side and speeding up. We meet up with another group consulting their map - but we're following Dave's Garmin GPS system - so far it's been doing a good job - we speed off with them behind us - a couple of their riders join on - we spot the tip of the Eiffel tower peeping between some new high-rise office blocks - this is it; we've made it; we're here. We speed up now, incentivised by the the sights and the sense of achievement - we zoom like madmen through the busy streets - we pass through red lights with careless, reckless abandon, drunk on adrenelin. We're moving along at 26mph - the two riders can't keep up and we quickly lose them.

Outside the Louvre

As we get closer to the centre a local cyclist joins us - 'You have cycled from London?' he says
'Yes' we reply
'When did you set off'
'This morning'

Now we're in the heart of Paris - some people outside a cafe stand and applaud as we pass. We negotiate the busy traffic in the centre - taking a bit more care now at traffic lights - then, through an archway and we're outside the Louvre - that's it we've done it!! We congregate on a corner looking out for our organiser - but we realise he'll be stuck in the roadworks and traffic - we find a shady spot and take a breather. It's unbearably hot again but the emotion of the day has left us unaware of any problem, physical or meteorlogical. Then we're off again - we have a route to the foot of the Eiffel Tower via the Champs Elysees and the Arc de Triumphe - we head back onto the busy streets, but the traffic is cycle friendly here - cars seem to give way to us - they flag us by at roundabouts and allow us out of junctions - can't imagine this happening in the UK. We make our way up the Champs - its a steep rise up to the Arc de Triumphe and the road surface is bumpy - cobbles with bits missing and broken - we are hindered all the way by a continual series of red lights - the traffic is busy - we wonder what will happen at the Arc - one of the busiest intersections in Europe with cars whizzing round from every direction. Suddenly we're there and edging out into the traffic - once again the traffic slows and stops - they let us through - the traffic parts like the water of the Red Sea - there are people clapping through car windows and peeping horns in a friendly congratulatory way. We enjoy it so much we go round again - then off and down the Champs Elysees - next stop the Eiffel Tower.

As we approach there is a traffic-free section and we can see crowds of people up ahead - Dave and I sprint towards them and they let out an enormous round of applause - we're in front of The Eiffel Tower, our organiser has a table with banners set out in the perfect spot - we take some photo's and are presented with a plastic beaker of Champagne and a finishers medal. It's an emotional moment - here we are in the heart of Paris, under one of the world's iconic landmarks - and we've pedalled all the way from London. We relish the moment and take a few more pictures.

After half an hour of contemplation we need to get to our hotel - we've another 5 miles to go - but it will be easy. We set off smiling for the final leg. After about three miles we spot a typical Parisian corner cafe/bar - I shout to Gaz that we should stop - we do and take a seat out of the sun close to the street corner. The waiter duly arrives - he looks the part, waistcoat, white shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbow and one of those stripey aprons. We try to tell him we need two beers - large, 'deux bier, grande, pression, silvous-plait' - He speaks fairly good English (better than our French) 'Ahhh you want large beer' - Moments later he is back with two of the biggest beers I've ever seen - massive stein affairs, the sort you might find at a German beer festival. Ideal.

The celebratory beers

We sit sipping the beer and enjoying the moment. Then a couple of our group cycle past - we shout out and raise our steins - they laugh and acknowledge - but carry on. We decide to try to get people to join us, we're on route to the hotel so everyone will be passing. The next few riders pass by - this time we're on our feet, holding up the beers, shouting to them to stop and join us. Soon we are building a collection of tired but elated cyclists at this small roadside bar - we take all the seats, our bikes are piled up and spilling into the road - any cyclist who passes by is greeted with a huge cheer and encouraged to stop and join us - if they pass by the cheer turns to a boo. Across the road is a small area laid out for Petanque - Gary and I go over and challenge the two people to an 'International Tournament' - France vs England. The two guys accept and we buy them a beer to seal the deal. It's starting to get silly.

At the bar we have all the outside seats - more are brought out from inside - our bikes are piled up taking space in the road, there are people sitting on the pavement, on the grass across the road, all over - the atmosphere is electric - we are losing at Petanque but it doesn't matter. Every few minutes there is a deafening cheer as another cyclist arrives. It is one of those unplanned moments that make a trip extra special. We get chatting to various riders and plans are made to meet up later. Meantime another tray of beer arrives...

Suddenly a van pulls up - it is Martin, our tour guide and organiser - he tells us that we have to get to the hotel - there is a lorry waiting to taking our bikes back to England that has to get to Calais tonight - we're holding up the schedule - a boo emanates from the crowd - but we realise we will have to go. We drink up and make our apologies to the French Petanque team - we have to leave and will, on this occasion, concede the match. A pity, we'd met a Frenchman in the bar, apparently a champion, who had agreed to play for us!

The tangle of bikes is gradually unthreaded and we make a slow, wavy line in the general direction of the hotel - it's follow the leader time - I have no idea where we're going. But we make it back okay and get our bikes onto the lorry. The hotel is the poshest one of the trip - The Pullman - apparently it's over 200 euros a night to stay here! - Our room is great, a double bed each, big air-con unit, lovely bathroom. We shower then it's time for supper.

The restaurant is packed for the last supper - it is buffet style, lots to choose from, prepared with more style and flair than we've experienced so far this trip. There's even a cheese board with some perfectly wonderful soft, smelly varieties. It's not long before Gary has ordered a bottle of wine for our table - it lasts about 5 minutes - then someone else on the table - Jonathan - offers to reciprocate - however he insists on popping out to the offy, reluctant to pay Pullman prices - 15 minutes later he's back, but the stakes have been upped. Instead of a bottle of wine, Jonathan saunters in with a bottle of Napoleon Brandy - neatly presented in an Eiffel Tower shaped bottle. I begin to think this is going to be a long night; and a painful morning.

After supper our party consists of around 10 of us - Amazingly one of the riders, Julian, has my email
address in his phone - his family own a printing company in Norfolk. It transpires that we've worked together on a project in the past, both employed by the same client but working independently. We are out on the streets now - someone says we need a blues club - we ask a chinese taxi driver who has no idea. Then someone spots a Jazz club - we make a beeline but its 30 euro's just to get in - we try to negotiate a group discount but to no avail. We're back outside wandering, we come across a bar and settle for that - we sit at the pavement tables drinking draught heineken and reliving our experience. Some Americans approach us - they are lost - they need to get to The Pullman Hotel - no problem, I offer to walk them round in the interests of Anglo-American relations. They're from Chicago, at least that's the nearest city - they're 'doing' Europe, they had already been across to the UK to trace back ancestors who originated from Cornwall. When I get back Julian suggests we move on to a club as the bar is about to close - It's 1.00am. I don't fancy it but agree to go along, thinking we'll never get in dressed ib shorts/tee shirts etc. My theory holds out until club number 3 - the doorman lets us in. We're in a dark dingy bar area, loud dance music, expensive drinks - I find a corner to hide in - Gaz takes to the dance floor!

It's 4.00am when we emerge - Gaz looks like he's been for a swim fully clothed, he's soaked through from tip to toe. Now everyone is hungry - it's Pizza time. After that we try to figure out how to get back. Gary and Julian walk off to find a Taxi - I'm with Dave who is wandering around in an alcoholic haze. Somehow we all get split up - and I've got Dave's phone - no sign of anyone? - I call Gaz but it's Dave who answers - he's around the corner and has found the route to the hotel, the others have gone.

I get back to the room at 6.00am - its light and Gaz is in a coma. Can't believe we've been out so long - and can't wait to get to sleep.

Statistics:
Max speed: 31.6
Height gained: 1699 ft
Max temperature: 104f
Miles: 57.98
Calories: 4698
Beer drunk: Loads!

London to Paris - part 3 - Amiens to Criel...

Friday 19th July 2013

As we file out to our bikes for another day in the saddle it is welcoming to know that the hardest days are done - today will be similar in terrain to the previous two, but only 65 miles or so to ride.

There's a subdued atmosphere as we clip in and get ready to set off. Everyone looks tired, hunched and in need of more sleep. The sun is already beating down and it is going to be another hot, dry day out there.

We get an update that a couple of riders collapsed yesterday with heat exhaustion - and on today's sheet there quite a few DNS - (Did not start). It's understandable - this has been a tough ride, the combination of demanding terrain and excessive heat has taken its toll. Martin, the man in charge tells me that everyone who is struggling will be allowed to drop back in when they feel better - he is hoping for a full roster come Paris. Meantime we've got to get to Criel. My back has been troubling me since we started, I've controlled it with drugs but the hilly nature of the course hasn't helped - add to that sore thigh muscles, excessive saddle soreness (something that's never really bothered me previously) and a pain in my left foot and I realise I'm not really in the best of condition. However I'm determined to get it done - and the prospect of a shorter day and then tomorrow into Paris lightens the load.

Lunchstop

We set off in smaller groups today, half of us were staying in a separate hotel on the other side of the city - we will all meet up out on the road and at the various stops. Gary and I hook up with a group who are moving fairly sedately - as we move into open countryside we have a couple of steep drags to climb which thins us out even more - people are off their bikes and walking even at this early stage. We are soon on our own and making good progress. We arrive at the first waterstop just as it is being set up, only two or three riders there. We don't hang around - ten minutes or so and we're off again, moving quickly over a decent smooth surface. Then we get lost. The little yellow arrows that have been convieniently placed to guide us at junctions have disappeared. We stop at a roundabout to consult our map - we work out that we're not far wrong and a quick detour into the next town should put us on the right road. As we pause at a set of traffic lights to consult the map again and try to marry it with the corresponding signposts we are joined by another cyclist who approaches behind us - he has the weather beaten, nut brown complexion of a local. He is riding some sort of hybrid bike with  big panniers on the back - it transpires that he too is cycling to Paris from London - on his own and self-sufficient - he is carrying camping equipment and everything he needs. He tells us it's his first time on a bike - what an initiation!. We wish him well and head on to pick up the yellow arrows at the next junction - a few more hills and we're into a small village and our lunch stop. Once again the catering is impeccable - this time set up inside a rectangle of pollarded lime trees which create the perfect shady respite. We are early so the food is being laid out as we arrive. We settle down for a rest and fill our bidons. There is a small church opposite and a scattering of stone cottages - one thing we've noticed about all of the villages we have passed through - there is never any people? - where is everyone? what do they all do? - the whole of rural France seems conspicuously deserted.

Dave catches us up here - but we're leaving just as he arrives - he wants to eat so says he'll catch us up - he will - he's riding really well. We head off and there's the usual tough, steep climb out of the village to the next ridge - long and hard - not easy with a full stomach. At least we know we don't have far to ride this afternoon - the sun blazes again, the tarmac is melting in places and grit and stones get stuck to our tyres. A few more up and downs and the road gets flatter - we're approaching our destination and negotiating various roundabouts and dual carriageways - interesting fact - Criel is twinned with Bethlehem - but no star to signal our resting pace for the evening - once again we're in two separate hotels - unfortunately the first one we come across isn't ours - some of our group drop off here, but we have a little further to travel and enlist the help of a 'man in a van' who gives valuable directions to the Campanile hotel.

Another mile or so and we're there - we join the group of cyclists already congregated on the grassy patch outside the bar, all crammed against the wall on the metre wide strip that is in full shade. A couple of beers and we settle to watch the others arrive over the next hour or so. Pretty soon the bar has run out of beer - bad planning by the Campanile - 75 or so English cyclists arriving at your hotel on the way to Paris - you'd think they might have anticipated a demand for a few beers?

Outside The Campanile

Our rooms are basic but functional - more chalet like really, a three-storey block of timber framed apartments on stilts. Our room is on the second level - our bikes are to stay with us in our accommodation tonight - so we carry them up the stairs - this proves difficult - the accumulated effect of the ride so far, plus the sit down since we arrived has left us stiff - it's a struggle to get up there - no wonder The Tour riders always try to secure ground floor accommodation! - After getting the bikes up we have to go back down to get our bags - then another climb!

After a short rest it's down to the restaurant for supper. As we know, French cuisine is revered throughout the world; sophisticated, complicated, beautiful - the greatest cuisine ever invented? But so far on this trip there has been no evidence  - there seems to be a gastronomic malaise in this part of France. The thing is that French food is weighed down by a heritage that is both unimprovable and archaic. Cooking isn't timeless, it's as much a product of fashion as ....well, fashion. All attempts at modernising it diminish it. Cuisine minceur, nouvelle cuisine, the arbitary addition of eastern spices, twiddly garnishes etc - all make it absurd. It's food caught in aspic - you either eat history or move on like the rest of Europe, to easier, dumbed down food.

Dave grabs a rest before dinner

I'm not sure what we were served this evening could ever be called 'fine dining' - our starter was a birds nest of raw grated carrot with half a hard boiled egg sitting in the middle. Appalling - absolutely ghastly.
Main course: two pieces of bony chicken with a spoon of boiled rice. Actually the chicken tasted good - just very little of it. No vegetables, no bread. We were left feeling like asking for more.
Desert: a beaker of yoghurt with a teaspoon of raspberry jam. Looked like raspberry ripple but tasted sour, warm and boring.
The uninspired food and the lack of beer meant we went to bed hungry - we all wished that they could have arranged for the mobile catering company to service us in the evenings as well - their fayre was much more suited to our needs. We later found out that one of our group - Jonathan Campbell - made a trip into town for a large portion of Chateaubriande and frites - wish we'd known!

Hopefully today was the last tough day. It's our last day of riding tomorrow and we lay in bed thinking of riding along the Champs Elysees.

Statistics:
Max speed: 36mph
Height gained: 2612 ft
Max temperature: 96.8f
Miles covered: 62.06
Calories used: 5347