PARIJS BREST PARIJS 2007

HERINNERINGSMAP

PARIJS – BREST – PARIJS 2007

HOOFDSTUK IV VERSLAGEN VAN BUITENLANDSE DEELNEMERS

IV Verslagen van buitenlandse deelnemers Naam:

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Colin Anderson Susan Barr Andy Cox Ed Felker Lothar Hennighausen Nathan Kluge Wim en Tine Patrick Isabelle Carrier en Jean Philippe Battu Mikus Daniele Pavan Olympia Pozzetti

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Colin Anderson Paris-Brest-Paris 1200km ultracycle By Colin Anderson The Paris-Brest-Paris ride has been in the back of my mind for some 12 years, however I hadn’t realised the French were going to hold their worst rain/wind on record just for me. Of the 5300+ riders to start some 1500 DNFed for various reasons, the weather presumably being the main reason. I was amazed at the cleanliness of the roads after the cyclists only spotting 2 drink bottles on the road, not the same at Taupo, where litter is a real problem. Certainly the French could do with lessons on how to get the riders underway. I was in the third of the so-called fast set and that was some 30 minutes after the first waves. Still this wait gave me the chance to shake hands with an American I had ridden with at Boston who was just 2 riders in front of me in the start queue. Another bonus was the friendly familiar waves and photos from trusty MMCC members, Malcolm, Lorraine, Jim, Raewyn, Mike and Neill, who were about to start their French cycling adventure elsewhere. The pre-ride bike check was a joke, and left me wondering just how well equipped some riders would be. The start was the usual hustle and bustle, which after a quick wave to Christine, nestled at her vantage point, got into real action. I kept a steady line well to the left, with no draught but relative safety, this action was proven when about 80+ riders took a wrong turn and in stopping bought down heaps of riders, this in the first 20 km or so! The weather was looking sort of damp at the start so I opted to put my Gortex coat on from the outset, a wise choice since after about 40 km the heavens really opened up and continued chucking it down for a major portion of the ride. After 200 km my average speed was just on 29 km/h. Too fast I thought but the thrill of jumping across bunches and finding new wheels to chase was hard to subdue ( must be an age thing!!).

Prior to reaching Brest I joined forces with a Scots lad and a rider from Athens. We formed a good team and passed heaps of bunches without carrying any “passengers”. Unfortunately, at Brest (after 26 or so hrs riding) I couldn’t encourage my comrades to take a short sleep. I had 1 hr 20 mins on the floor of the dining room so set off with a new small group. After Brest there was a long gradual up-hill where I met up with a German group. We had many battles, until their group was split up, with me staying back and giving lighting assistance to one of them who was by now a very grumpy German since his main light had fallen off in one of our many counter-attacks! I’m not sure what he was saying about his team mates but I got the definite feeling they were in for a right tongue lashing when we regrouped. About 40 km from Loudeac, at the 775 km mark, I rode with a French cyclist, from that region, who told me in broken English that he had just retired, but his legs were still very

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“supple”. My obvious reply was well lets boogy then, and we did, attacking and surging up the steady rises. He finally capitulated and I rode off alone into the checkpoint for a rather slow change of gear in the rain and wind. Refueled I rode with a Camelbak of water and spare clothes etc adding some 10-12 kg for most of the ride. My bike bottles were filled with Hammer Perpetuem, again my sole fuel supply (no KFC on this tour) but I did score a couple of bananas from a friendly French local outside a quaint village pub. He happened along while I was attempting to rub some life back into my screaming feet. As I departed Loudeac Josh Kench from Wellington rode in, and with his support crew waiting, was soon on my tail. We rode together for some while swapping yarns until he punctured. As it was still damp and cool I loaned him my gas pump and rode on slowly till we regrouped. During this time I had got a 4 person group together and had sort of got them safely and slowly rotating. Upon Josh’s return it was easy to see that it would be best served to keep the Italian back with me and let the others head off. Josh soon proved too strong for the others and took off, never to be sighted again till after the finish. Josh actually finished first of the Aust/Kiwi riders (130+) while I held onto 4th. My confidence in lending Josh my gas pump was upset a tad when I caught the edge of a water drain cover in a wet cobblestone area which caused a tyre nick that only really showed up some 80 km later. So again my Michelin Pro-Race 2 tyres stood the full test. When the tyre cut was noticed at a checkpoint, I thought the two eager Frenchies (semi-assisting) were going to convert my Trek into a tandem as they grappled away to do the insertion of my patch into the tyre wall. An enforced stop at Villaines (1002 km) to visit the medical team, and a 2.5 hr sleep and I was off again, this time with a young English chap. We stayed together in the dark for many kilometers until I teamed up with a faster Canadian, Brian, who in time during our talks I discovered was on his 6th PBP, so he was one guide I wasn’t going to lose. Brian is the Canadian representative on the PBP organising committee, and as such was a wealth of knowledge about the ride, plus he was entitled to an Elite pass which gave him a start with the first wave of cyclists. So although we were to finish at the same time I was still always going to be at least 30 minutes quicker. This allowed me time to stop in the pre-finish area and say a fairly quick “hi” to Christine before I rode into the full finish shut. It turned out that Brian’s daughter was due to give birth in Canada to a diagnosed “Heart Child” so we had quite a talk on this. With about 70 km to go we encountered one sorry soul trying to get his act together after hitting the land of “super bonk”. After giving this rider a few squirts of my HCH homeopathic endurance spray, I towed our little trio for 20 or so km until our new man started to recover. He then unfortunately popped a spoke so he had to stop for a roadside repair. Brian (the Canadian) and I carried on only for Brian to puncture some 20 km from the finish. The old saying “less speed more haste” showed up here with a really slow but eventually successful tube replacement. It was only after the ride as I was at the American/Canadian base hotel (trying to swap cycle tops) that I discovered that the rider who had bonked was in fact the same Canadian/American endurance cycling Guru, Ken Bonner, who I had met in Boston, where he had been a real inspiration to me in pre-ride talks. For me the “accidental” assistance I was able to give this great guy, albeit for only a short time, was my ride highlight.

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The final few kms to the finish had a couple of nasty up hills, but the old Trek kept up its work rate, and it was one happy Kiwi at the finish. After the ride I had the pleasure of meeting and swapping NZ tops with the 2003 men’s winner, Moran Devin, from Brittany, and the American Melinda Lyon (2x winner woman’s, 2x runner up). I had met Melinda during my Boston ride when she was in control of the final feed station. Here she had hidden the bread rolls from me, as according to her, 12 at a time was heaps for anyone!! We still laugh about that!! Manawatu Masters has by association possibly the best finish record with a 100% finish rate at this year’s PBP, with me, Joshua Kench (Wellington), Marian Savage (Nelson) and Douglas Mabey (Wellington), all members of MMCC and all completing the 1226 km ride. Would I do PBP again? I don’t think so. But something else is bound to crop up. I must thank many MMCC members who have helped me in my build-up with “speed work”. Sunday attacks, certainly added much needed variety to my generally solo weekday rides. Also, from HeartChildren NZ, thanks for the donations through guesses to my approximate finish time competition. The winners were, Kerry Hammington (PN) who won a Pioneer BMX bike donated by Pedal Pushers. Christine Tutty (PN) who won a CamelBak donated Hydration Systems. Stuart Doidge (PN) who won a wheel balance and alignment donated by Neville Weir Auto One Stop. Kane Boustridge (Feilding) who won the DVD player. All funds raised will assist Manawatu HeartChildren. Interview with Colin Anderson and Douglas Mabey By Owen Mills I was fortunate to sit in on a reminiscing session between Colin and Douglas recently and was able to throw in a few of my own questions. What was the terrain like? It was rolling terrain with gentle gradients but overall much like an Auckland to Wellington ride. What about the road surface? It was mainly very good with a smooth surface but in places big chip seal like a NZ road. There were also some cobblestone sections through villages. What was the overall organization like? The organization was generally very good. The start was screwed up, probably because of the weather which meant that riders were waiting on the start line for up to an hour and a half after their official start time. Colin got away in good weather but Douglas got drenched before starting about an hour and a half later than scheduled. The route was mostly clearly marked although Douglas was concerned on one occasion when he had not seen a route marker for some time. The check points were obvious but there did not seem to be a great sense of urgency from officials during the checking in process. The catch phase from competitors was “hurry up and wait”. What was the atmosphere of the ride like? Camaraderie between riders was terrific. There was also a huge amount of public support with free drinks and gateau being offered to riders from the side of the road. Douglas told of having a puncture repaired for him by an unknown local.

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Many stories related by Colin and Douglas involved other competitors losing the plot due mainly to exhaustion, lack of sleep and too much caffeine (No Doze). Personal hygiene suffered badly due to persistent wetness and at times both riders would have rejected their own company if that was possible. The final word from Douglas was that this was a once in a life time experience as there was no way he could have this experience in New Zealand. Colin on the other hand was a bit coy about pronouncing the experience as the final word in his cycling career. Final results are not due for another few weeks but unofficially we have Colin finishing in 66 hours 22 mins and Douglas in 81 hours and 10 mins. Congratulations to both riders for a stupendous effort showing incredible guts and determination.

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Susan Barr Paris-Brest-Paris 2007: A Once-in-a-Lifetime Experience by Susan Barr The Background Since becoming a randonneur several years ago, I'd been aware that Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP) came around once every four years, and seemed to be the "Olympics" of endurance cycling. Friends who had completed it invariably raved about it -- but I wasn't convinced it was for me. I enjoy long days of cycling (note the emphasis on days, in this case defined as "not nights"). And I also have to confess to being a bit of a princess: I don't enjoy riding at night, I need a lot of sleep to function well, and I don't sleep well unless I'm 1) in a comfortable bed, 2) in a darkened room that is very quiet, and 3) have an extended period of "pre-sleep", which is time before going to sleep with minimal stimulation. None of which seemed to be consistent with PBP. So there was definitely a lot of ambivalence about the idea. Last summer, however, I realized that I didn't want to look back and regret not having done PBP. And if I was going to do it, being "almost 53" was probably better than being "almost 57". With that decision made, I set out to plan as close to a "princess" version of PBP as I could. A year before the event, I decided that my goal would be to finish, having done as little night riding as possible. That meant I would choose the 84-hour (5 am) start. Although having 90 hours to complete the event would allow more of a buffer, starting at 10 pm just wasn't consistent with my biological clock. I made my flight reservations and was able to reserve in Business Class (on points!). I reserved a hotel room in Loudeac for the first and second "nights" of the event, and found a bed-and-breakfast in Mortagne au Perche for the third night. I'd heard about a bag drop in Loudeac (princesses need clean clothes every day), and decided to spend several days before PBP in Mortagne au Perche (where I stayed in the same wonderful bed-and-breakfast as I'd use on the third night, and where I was able to leave some clean clothes for the final leg back to Paris). So all that was left was to qualify….. In retrospect, I couldn't have chosen more appropriate qualifying rides. I did the 200, 300, and 400 km brevets during the Vancouver Island Hell Week in early April. One might classify those rides as "fairly hilly", and the conditions as "somewhat miserable" ( I was borderline hypothermic more than once). I also did the Vancouver Island 600 km, a Fleche, the Portland to Glacier 1000 km (under conditions of extreme heat), and several other 300 km and 200 km rides. So I left for France feeling that my training had gone well, and that I was ready for anything that France could throw at me (princesses can be very naïve). The Ride Ross, Jim and I left the hotel at 3:45 a.m. Pitch-dark and cool, but not raining. Some creative route-finding ensued, but we made it to the stadium without mishap, and encountered Wim and Clyde, who'd left the hotel earlier than we had. We lined up in the stadium, and I'm not sure when the actual "start" happened, as we moved forward several times and then came to a complete stop. But it was probably about 10 minutes after 5. There were over 700 people in our "wave", and I think we were nearer to the end than to the beginning. The cycling was chaotic with some riders trying to weave their way to the head of the group, and my heart was in my teeth - I was just hoping I could remain upright and survive the first 30 km or so. The weather that first day was "unsettled" - we went through periods of heavy rain and wind, when I was quite cool despite multiple layers, but the sun also made an appearance. The day passed by in a bit of a blur: I remember the feeling of being in familiar territory as we went through Mortagne au Perche, where I stopped at the boulangerie for an almond

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croissant and a pain au raisins. Then there was Villaine la Juhel, with a real carnival atmosphere. Then Fougeres, then Tinteniac. I tried to move through the controls efficiently get my card stamped, buy and snarf a cheese sandwich, fill my Camelbak and water bottle, use the washroom - and get back on the bike. I was being very "efficient" until about 30 km from Loudeac, when I realized that I was missing part of what made PBP more than just a bike ride. So I stopped at the side of the road sometime after 11 pm and was welcomed into someone's basement. Three generations of the family were present - they made me tea, fed me cookies, and graciously responded to my feeble efforts at conversing in French. Wonderful. I arrived in Loudeac at 12:30 a.m. It was a zoo: people everywhere, trying to sleep. It took me awhile to find my drop bag, and then the next challenge was to locate the Hotel des Routiers. I rode through deserted city streets, and finally just happened upon it. I should mention that in the days leading up to PBP, I'd been somewhat concerned about whether there would actually be any room in the inn, and had visions of arriving in the wee small hours of the morning to discover that "someone was sleeping in my bed". I'd made my reservation over a year ago, and despite my offer to send a money order to pay in full for the 2 nights' accommodation, Madame le Cozannet had assured me that wouldn't be necessary. So when I arrived at the hotel and tried to check in, I wasn't completely surprised when my name was nowhere to be seen on the rooming list they had at the front desk. After some discussion, though, it became evident that the rooming list was actually for American cyclists booking through Des Peres Travel, who had reserved virtually the entire hotel almost a year ago. And sure enough, a reservation was eventually retrieved for the one person who had reserved more than a year ago, and there was a room for me. Big relief. I had a few good hours of sleep, and left the next morning slightly after 6:30 am, just as it was starting to get light. It drizzled for awhile in the morning, but by the time I reached Carhaix, the sun was out and the winds were getting frisky. The climb over Roc Trevezel was pleasant; impressive terrain, and the deep purple heather in bloom was quite beautiful. The weather continued to be decent until it got dark, and then it started to drizzle/rain again. It was absolutely dark - no lights from buildings, and the roads didn't have either centre lines or side lines. The rain was very effective at "sucking up" the light from my headlight. I did the descents with my brakes almost full on, as it would have been easy to have missed a turn and gone sailing into the trees. I was back at the hotel in Loudeac by about 11 pm, and was looking forward to a good night's sleep. But shortly after 2:30 am, a dog started to bark - and continued to bark, and continued to bark. At about 5 am I gave up on the idea of any further sleep, and decided to take advantage of the remaining darkness to avail myself of the services of the first aid station at the Loudeac control. In my vast experience in brevets over 600 km (this was the third one), I have always had "butt issues" by the end of the second day, and this ride wasn't altering that pattern. I think I ended up as something of a teaching case, as four people were clustered around to view the proceedings, which consisted of applying Second Skin to a substantial part of my posterior anatomy. When they were finished, I thanked them and got ready to leave. At that point, one of them said "Vous allez continuez??", and the subtext couldn't have been clearer if it had been shouted from the rooftops: "Are you ABSOLUTELY crazy?" When I said yes, I was going to continue, heads were shaken but I was wished "Bon courage". And I needed it. There were a number of "highs" and "lows" on this day. The highs included seeing a surprisingly large number of people I knew - both from BC and elsewhere. I rode for awhile with Doug Slack, who I had ridden with on the Fireweed double century in Alaska last summer (another cold wet ride!). Another high point was stopping for coffee and cookies near Tinteniac, and having what amounted to almost a conversation en francais. I asked the woman whether she knew anyone riding in PBP, and she said that she didn't, but that she'd

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been coming out to support the ride for over 40 years - first as a child, then with her children, and now with her grandchildren (who'd spent yesterday baking the raisin cookies I was eating). Overall, the support of the people was wonderful and really uplifting… as well as only slightly sexist. Let me elaborate: As we'd go through towns, people would be standing by the road, applauding and saying encouraging things like "Bravo", "Bon courage", "Bonne route". But when they'd see a woman (we made up only about 6% of the riders), they'd notch up the encouragement substantially. Can't say that I was unhappy about it! There was a particularly wonderful reception coming into Villaine-la-Juhel (and I remember thinking that it would have been great if that was the end of the ride). The low points included persistent pain when sitting (I spent another hour or so getting "repairs" at the first aid station in Tinentiac), as well as increasing nausea. It had started yesterday, and wasn't backing off. Eating was becoming an unappealing chore, and it felt as if food was getting stuck in my esophagus. I arrived in Mortagne au Perche just after 11 pm, but the idea of pushing through to the finish really didn't even enter my mind. My B&B (http://laguetterie.mysite.wanadoomembers.co.uk/index.jhtml) was waiting for me, and I reached it a few minutes later (it was less than a kilometre off the route). Ray and Trish had left breakfast supplies for me, as well as my "drop bag" with some extra food. I started out at about 6 am on the last day, moving slowly and feeling queasy. But I did manage to forget about my derriere and my stomach, at least temporarily. Just north of Longny there was a sign on the road ahead: "Gravillons!", which I interpreted to mean 'gravel'. I rode around the sign, and because there were quite a few riders behind me and a car approaching from the other direction, I cut back to the side of the road as quickly as I could. It turned out to be a bit too quick: the "gravillons" was actually an oil slick; my rear wheel went out from under me; and I went down fairly hard. As I lay on the road, I was thinking "please, don't let me have broken my hip". The gods were on my side - I hadn't. Just a slightly shredded Goretex jacket, and a bruise the size of a watermelon on my hip. So after a few minutes to gather myself together, I was off again. I rode into Dreux with an Australian couple, and shortly after leaving Dreux, connected with Keith Patterson.

Keith Patterson snapped this photo of Susan on the final stage between Dreux and St. Quentin

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We rode together into St Quentin, and along the way, were joined by Darren Inouye. The last 10 km of the ride felt anticlimactic, with numerous stops at red lights and making our way through a major construction zone, but right at the finish there were lots of people out and it was quite celebratory. So I'd met my goals: I finished in less than 84 hours (I think it was 80:44), and did very little riding at night. I wanted to feel elated, but I actually just felt relieved (and sick). I didn't hang around at the finish, but rode back to the hotel with several others - and within half an hour of reaching it, was forcefully expelling fluids out of both ends of my gastrointestinal tract. I don't know whether it was food poisoning, a virus, full body shutdown, or (most likely) some combination of all three, but it wasn't how I'd imagined celebrating the finish. Words of Thanks Cheryl Lynch: for the ride to the airport and totally awesome muffins (as well as organizing our entries). Danelle Laidlaw: for arranging the hotel in Plaisir. Bob Koen, Nigel Press and Jeff Mudrakoff: for assistance when my Lumotec light decided to stop working the day before the start. Ray Parker: for the Mactac that meant my route sheet didn't turn into a sodden mass of pulp. Ross Nichol: for getting me to the start and keeping me company during what was, for me, a somewhat terrifying first part of the ride. Everyone I rode with: for the pleasure of your company. Keith Patterson and Darren Inouye: for finishing the ride together with me. Jim and Brenda Fidler: for picking up my drop bag from the Holiday Inn. Brian Westerberg: for saving me from the mother of all spiders. Deirdre Arscott: for going to the pharmacy for Gravol. The people of France: for your unbelievable support, hospitality, and enthusiasm - it was what kept me going and got me to the finish, and is ultimately what I'll treasure when I remember PBP 2007. © Copyright 2007, Susan Barr

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Andy Cox Paris Brest Paris, Andy Cox, 11/9/2007 Motivation 5 years ago, I graduated from University and found my way into the world of work. Somewhere along the way, my student decadence had caused me to put on weight and become a lot less active than I had been as a teenager. I was at the worst point nudging 15 and a half stone (98kg) and probably not too far away from full-on obesity and related health problems. I started to turn things around in 2004 with the purchase of my Concept2 rowing machine. As the weight came off, I began to get into using the machine in a big way and it provided my main form of exercise for over a year. In the summer of '05 on a whim, I went and tried sea rowing at the local rowing club. After a few tasters, I joined the club and by the September was taking part in my first race, the Thames Great River Race in London. Over the following winter, I trained as part of a men's squad aiming to take part in the spring '06 Celtic Challenge rowing race from Arklow in the Irish Republic to my home town of Aberystwyth, Wales. On top of on-water rowing and continuing to use the machine, this involved a fair amount of circuit training and running. The one thing I got from this was a good level of base-fitness and a general enjoyment of doing exercise. At the eleventh hour, I was taken ill and had to pull out of the Celtic Challenge, but did go on to have a successful season of rowing. During this time I also dusted off my trusty road bike and did a couple of 10 mile time trials with the local cycling club. For a while previously I'd been reading ride reports about the mysterious world of Audax riding on the uk.rec.cycling newsgroup and felt a rising urge to have a go. So following the end of the rowing season, in October '06 I joined Audax UK and took part in my first Audax event, a hilly 100km ride around the Brecon Beacons. I found this extremely enjoyable and managed to squeeze in my first 200 and another 100 by the end of that month. Everything from the 200 onwards was new territory as this had been my first ever ride in excess of 100 miles. More generally in Audax I found a way to find many new challenges to test my increasing fitness levels and by now was very much of the mindset that the more exercise I did, then the more I wanted to do. On 1st November '06, the new Audax season began and realising the training value of Audax rides and in particular 200s, I set out to plan as full a calendar as I could accommodate whilst still continuing to do a lot of rowing. Somewhere along the way, I'd started to hear tales of some of the exploits of riders on the longer 300, 400 and 600km rides and also accounts of the legendary Paris-Brest-Paris (PBP) ride which took place at 4 yearly intervals with the next edition due the following year in August '07. My thoughts at this stage didn't get much further than that it might be fun seeing if I could qualify. Qualification & Training The first target that I latched onto was the Randonneur Round The Year (RRTY) award which requires riders to complete at least one ride of 200km or greater in each calendar month for 12 consecutive months. This is an excellent way to find the motivation to keep going through the dark winter months. The majority of my early rides were organised by David Lewis on Cardiff Byways CC and involved a 2-3 hour drive ahead of the event start, usually at 7am from Tongwynlais to the north of Cardiff. On the January ride I was joined by Jasmine, my better half and we rode the relatively flat route to Gloucester and back on our new tandem. This was a 200km qualifier for PBP and so my first tick in a box. After a few more 200s and some non-cycling stuff including trips to the

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British and Welsh indoor rowing championships (where I did nothing special), I was feeling strong and ready for the next challenge. At the beginning of April I rode Dai Harris' Bynea and Beyond 300km ride starting from Llanelli and travelling north to the southern edge of my home county of Ceredigion before heading West into Pembrokeshire and along the coast to St David's before going South-East back to Llanelli. I had the company of Robert John of Swansea Wheelers, a PBP veteran, for this ride and with good conditions we made it around in a very comfortable 12.5 hours. Another box was ticked for PBP qualification and I now needed to complete 400 and 600km events to qualify. In early May, it was time to try 400km so together with my friend Andreas, bravely joining me on his second ever Audax, we headed to Chepstow for the Brevet Cymru 400km ride and a 6am start. The route took us North to Hay on Wye before heading West to New Quay via Builth Wells, Llandovery and Tregaron. As far a Tregaron, we were making really good time, but then things got a little lumpier and tiredness began to take its toll. We persevered and after a meal in New Quay turned in land climbing to Llanybydder and then climbing further to Llandovery. We made it this far in the daylight and from here it was time to light up and plod on to Abergavenny, Usk and then for the grand finale a big climb back into Chepstow. We made it back in just over 20 hours, exhausted but having managed to ride the whole way without needing a sleep stop. So another box ticked and just the 600 to go. At the end of May, I made my way to Chepstow for the Brian Chapman Memorial 600km ride, organised by Mark Rigby. The route for this headed West to Aberystwyth on familiar roads before turning North to Dolgellau the main control for the event where sleeping facilities are provided, then North up to Anglesey via the Llanberis pass (the road past Snowdon) then back to Dolgellau from there heading inland to Newtown and back to Chepstow via Monmouth. I started this ride far to fast trying to sit at the back of the lead group and by the time 100km had elapsed was riding on my own occasionally passing or being passed by other riders. I made it to Aberystwyth by lunchtime on the Saturday and with some quick controlling in Dolgellau was on the return leg from Anglesey by the time it got dark. I was lucky enough to get about 4 hours sleep in the youth hostel before heading onto Newtown. About half way between Newtown and Monmouth, I teamed up with another rider, Andy Hamlyn and we had a pleasant ride to the finish following the Wye as it meanders down stream to Chepstow and finishing in about 36 hours, some 4 hours in hand on the maximum permitted time. So that was it, exhausted as I was I had qualified for PBP and now had to do some soul searching as to whether I wanted to go for it. A few more 200km rides including some homebrew DIY 200s based around Aberystwyth and in many cases ridden with Jasmine on the tandem and my mind was made up, I was going to go for it as in the words of others I didn't want to spend the next 4 years wishing I had. So a bit of form filling, a note from the doctor and I was committed. The Bike & Equipment I picked up a Dolan Audax frame in the January sales and had built this into a bike with a fair few new components and some of the more recent upgrades to my previous faithful steed such as wheels and pedals. For lighting I had chosen a front wheel built around an ultraefficient SON hub dynamo together with a Solidlight LED front light and a battery driven rear LED light. This is the bike that I had completed all of the longer qualifiers on and it was set up with comfort in mind. After the 600k ride, I'd suffered from a residual numbness in my finger tips and aching wrists, so prior to heading off to France I fitted a taller stem and some new bar tape with gel inserts underneath. I also added a rear luggage rack as I was intending on using panniers to carry stuff around PBP rather than the large saddle bag used in the qualifiers. Whilst there are several ways to organise the logistics for PBP, I had elected to take the traditional British approach of self-supporting for the ride, so I did not arrange to have bag

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drops of clean clothes and supplies along the route. I also planned to sleep outdoors as and when the need arose in order to avoid the noisy and over-crowded controls, so together with sufficient tools, tubes, cables, a spare tyre and extra clothing, I also carried an inflatable camping mat, bivi bag and compact pillow. Getting to Paris Another traditionally British approach to PBP is to ride to the start of the event. I had planned a route to the start from Aberystwyth taking 3 days and covering just over 200km on each day. On the Thursday before PBP I set off from Aber in quite nasty wet conditions which at that point I thought I'd be leaving behind. My route took me to Builth Wells, Abergavenny, Usk, up the big hill to Chepstow, over the old Severn Bridge, then onto my parents place in Bradford on Avon taking a northerly route on the English side to avoid Bristol and Bath. As I neared Builth, the rain started to ease off so I unzipped my top slightly to cool down. The next thing I knew I had a searing pain from my chest and it turned out a rather nasty wasp sting! So after not a particularly good start I stopped for a bite to eat and had a more successful afternoon as the weather improved. I made it to Bradford on Avon in the last of the daylight and had a good feed and a well-earned sleep. Day two's route took me from Bradford into Bath and then along the A4 as far as Newbury where I turned South East to Farnham. From there it was a South Westerly route to Portsmouth and the ferry. A bit of a strange route you may note, but I needed to exceed 200km for it to qualify as a proper DIY ride. Leaving Bradford, I decided to leave behind my bib tights, boots and one of my long sleeved tops in favour of cycling sandals and shorts. Here's a picture of me as I left:

Me leaving Bradford on Avon en route to France. The ride as far as Newbury was very pleasant and the weather was a lot more pleasant than the previous day. The roads to Farnham were rather busier and there were a few examples of sterling driving along the way, but I survived and was soon heading on towards Portsmouth. This was OK until my route put me onto the A3 dual carriageway. The light was beginning to fail at this point, so I donned reflective gear and lights and tried to ride as

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defensively as I could particularly when avoiding fast cars on entrance and exit ramps. Eventually the A3 became the A3(M) and I found myself riding on urban roads in the suburbs of Portsmouth. Once nearing the city proper, I joined a network of cycle paths that I followed first to Southsea for a bite to eat on the prom and then back to the ferry port. At one point I was chased by a hoody-wearing chav who looked like he wanted to mug me, but he soon got tired and dropped off the back much to my relief. The overnight ferry from Portsmouth to Oistreham delivered me to France bright and early and I was pleasantly surprised to have been able to shower on board before getting my head down for about 5 hours sleep and finding time for a light breakfast before docking. My first surprise of the day was that Oistreham is a fair old trek from Caen where I had elected to start my 3rd and final DIY 200. An hour later I was through Caen and having been uninspired by the paper directions, heading for my next port of call in the town of Orbec navigating using the goto function on my GPS unit. The weather was very pleasant and with a brief stop for sun cream, I was soon rolling into Orbec after making good progress on fairly flat roads. Once again, my paper directions weren't up to much and I used to GPS to pick my way to Dreux, which I knew would be the final stop on PBP when bound for Paris in just under a week's time. In Dreux, I had a slight drama in that my SPD cleat became detached from my sandal and stuck in the pedal with me looking at the threaded end of the securing bolts. Much to the bemusement of some locals, I sat on the steps of a bank for about 20 minutes de-tensioning the pedal in order to release the cleat. I was soon rolling again and heading for my final control point in Versailles. At this point, the navigation got worst, as the road signs kept pointing me to the N12 route which this near to Paris had long sections on which bikes were prohibited. With a certain amount of trial and error, I steadily progressed towards Versailles, eventually stumbling onto the pre-planned route of my paper directions just as the batteries on the GPS finally threw their hat in. There was one big climb and then I was rolling towards Versailles, ultimately passing the palace just as the daylight faded. I had a little trouble finding my hotel, the Holiday Inn in Jouey En Josas as it was the one place I'd neglected to set a GPS waypoint to, but with a little luck and a brief conversation with a local I finally rolled into the hotel at about 22:30. I'd just missed the closing time for room service, so after a quick bath collapsed into bed feeling fairly exhausted. Before The Start Not realising how long it would take to get to Paris on the Saturday, I'd opted for an early bike check on the Sunday, so had an uncomfortably early start. After a generous breakfast in the hotel, I set off into a wet morning to ride the 7km to the gymnasium in Guyancourt which hosts the start and finish of PBP. There was a thick drizzle in the air and it distracted me into cycling about ½ mile on the wrong side of the road. Luckily a curious look at some painted arrows in the road caused me to realise my mistake before meeting any cars and I quickly crossed to the right hand side. Being slightly tight for time and to avoid a big climb back into Versailles, I resorted to the GPS to find the shortest route to Guyancourt. This ended up taking me through a succession of increasingly muddy and bumpy forest paths, some of which were quite overgrown. I eventually emerged onto a motorway exit slip and managed to pedal back to safety before being spotted by any gendarmes. I rolled into the gymnasium and my mood didn't improve when I discovered that the organisers had suspended the bike check due to the rain and that I needn't have rushed to get there. I gathered my documents, cycling top and free bottle, spoke to a few Brits and was soon heading back to the hotel. I slept for most of the rest of the day, getting up briefly in the evening for a steak dinner in the hotel restaurant before retiring for an early light and more sleep. The following morning, I had a late breakfast and then having failed to negotiate a late checkout with the hotel had to pack and clear out by midday. I now had 9½ hours to kill before the

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start, so gently headed for Guyancourt, this time finding the on-road route thanks to a couple of pointers from an American rider at the hotel. I had a gentle ride around the town area hoping to bump into some Brits, but it would appear that most were hiding away on the campsite. Camping before and after the ride was one tradition I had decided to forego since whilst I enjoy doing it, it would have meant less opportunity for quality sleep, which I knew I would be in desperate need of. After a coffee and a cake in Guyancourt, I headed over to the gymnasium and the start area. There wasn't a lot going on at this point in the day, but there was plenty of fast food, so I camped out on one of the grass banks and took on as much food and drink as I comfortably could manage. At about 19:00, I made my way to the tunnel area and started to queue with the first of the 90 hour starters, hoping to get away as promptly as possible and to get the adventure underway. The Ride Itself For safety reasons, the start is broken into groups of about 5-600 riders, each staggered by about 20 minutes. This makes sense given the size of the event and on this occasion about 5300 competitors spread over the 3 possible start times with the majority opting for the 90 hour start on the Monday evening as I had done. Despite some tactical queuing, I just missed out on the first group, but did comfortably make it into the second. We were soon called forward to the start line and for the first time, I became aware of the promised carnival atmosphere. There were people on stilts, a Breton piper and a really massive crowd of wellwishers lining either side of the start line. After a few cheers and other encouragement, it was soon time to go and at 21:50 we started rolling. It was a tight group and there were two fallers within the first couple of hundred yards. Luckily I managed to navigate around this and was soon part of a smaller group heading out of Paris on closed roads. There were crowds of locals on bridges, at the sides of the road and lining every junction and many shouts of 'bon route'. After about half an

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hour, the lead car and motorbikes pulled away and the fast train of cyclists headed out into the night. All was going well for about 40km, until we came to a crossroads with no route sign. One of the French guys shouted to turn left and off we hammered. After a while, we caught what I'd assumed was the back of group 1 and the train got faster and faster until low and behold we came back to the same crossroads again. It transpires that we had managed to miss a waymarked right turn twice and as a consequence wasted about 25km and best part of an hour. A little back-tracking behind an official car and we were put back on route. It started to rain and this got progressively heavier as the night went on. The sight of the endless stream of red rear lights snaking away over the hills ahead was something to behold and the view of white lights to the rear was equally impressive. There was a water stop at about 100km, and shortly afterwards I pulled to one side to eat some flapjack this gave me a bit of renewed energy and I was soon back on the road heading for the first official control. This stage in the ride was where you really felt the immensity of the field, with various disparate groups riding anything up to 4 abreast and often crossing onto the left had side to overtake each other. There were occasional cars overtaking and having to do some pretty heroic moves to pass the never ending stream of riders. At 140km and in the early hours of Tuesday, I rolled into Mortagne au Perche and the first control. I wasted time queuing for hot food in the market place getting to watch an American immediately in front of me get the last of it. Having got cold from stopping, I carried on up the road to the official control and wolfed down a couple of hot dogs and a coffee. This was a refreshment control only on the outbound journey. Whilst the stop for food was welcome, stopping moving had caused me to get quite cold and to notice how wet I was. Once more into the night and I was OK once the blood got flowing again. The stream of red lights going over the hills miles into the distance was quite surreal. I managed to get through the early hours and associated tiredness quite well until at about 5am, the dozies hit and with the unrelenting rain, I started looking for a dry spot for a brief doze. I eventually found a roofed marketplace in one of the towns en-route, so it was out with my camping mat and bivi bag and I got my head down for an hour, until the first of the daylight and the consequent stirring of locals bought me back to reality. This stop turned out to be a bad move as I was suffering from slight exposure when I awoke and I think this was the closest I came to giving up. Once I'd packed my sleeping gear and got back on the bike, I began to feel better and a feed stop in a boulangerie a couple of towns further on had me feeling a little better about things. The rain abated slightly and I headed onwards to the first proper control at 220km - Villaines La Juhel. Here I had a rather nice steak and sautéed potatoes (they did these specially when my French let me down and I asked for the wrong thing instead of mash!). After a comfort break and fresh water, I swiped my magnetic card at just before 11am. There were an awful lot of onlookers at this control and I was once again struck by the size of the event. I found myself getting psychologically stronger from this point onwards, as the biggest single step of the journey was behind me and at every control from this point onwards I gained another stamp on my paper brevet card (the official record of passage on all Audax-typed rides). I got another 50km or so behind me, passing through the first of many official photography points along the way and then stopped in a café for a well-earned 'Café au Lait'. A little later, I stopped at a 'huit à 8' and bought a large quantity of cheap milk chocolate to consume between meals at various points over the next couple of days. At 310km I rolled into the next control at Fougeres, swiping my card at 3:30pm, and this time seeing how busy it was didn't hang around to eat anything. A relatively short stage to

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Tinteniac followed, and I started to notice riders flaked out on the side of the road tired-out from 18 hours in the saddle. I had an argument with some French riders about my lack of a casque (helmet), but my French didn't get much further then telling them that I thought they were dangerous and not for me. Luckily I wasn't feeling too tired myself and a stop for two more hot dogs and a large coffee at an unofficial roadside control helped to keep my spirits up. I reached Tinteniac (365km) at 6:45pm and again seeing how busy the control was didn't loiter for long, just stopping for long enough to get more water. I now wanted to press on to Loudeac, and get the most out of the remaining daylight. I never had a strictly detailed schedule for the ride, but one of my main principles was to make as much use of the daylight as possible and to only ever sleep in the dark, when I feel the effects of tiredness most anyway. For a large part of this stage, I towed a French guy called Arnaud who was too broken to do a lot other than be towed, he was a really nice lad, but didn't speak a lot of English and my rusty French was just about enough to exchange a few pleasantries over what was one of the flatter stages. There were a few die-hard supporters braving the rain to offer free coffee at the roadside, but we pressed on as dusk was beginning to settle around us. Arnaud insisted on buying me a Café au Lait in one of the roadside tabacs about 30km out of Loudeac and I was sorry to lose his company when passing through a large group a while later. Just before Loudeac, I passed the lead group of Vedettes (the fastest group which have an 80 hour window in which to complete the ride) heading back to Paris having made Brest some time during the preceding afternoon, which was somewhat depressing. It was raining steadily as I rolled into the control (450km) at about 11pm and there were an awful lot of people around as the faster returning 80 hour and medium-slow 90 hour riders had all arrived in the control at the same time. Not feeling hungry, I decided to join the queue for the dormitory feeling like I needed to some quality sleep before going much further. It took about an hour to get through the queue, but I was eventually lead to a mattress and managed to get my head down for 4½ hours, of restless sleep. This was a cold and noisy place to sleep and I'd woken naturally an hour before my booked wake up call. I'd soon climbed back into my wet clothes and was rolling onwards shortly before the official closing time for this control of 5am. A couple of hours of riding in the darkness followed with more rain, but as the dawn came things seemed a little less bleak. Today was Wednesday and I started to loosely plan the day, deciding that I wanted to get to Brest by 2pm which would put me at 40 hours elapsed time and leave a reasonable buffer for my inevitable slowing down on the return journey. I stopped briefly for a stamp at the first 'secret' control of the ride, but pressed on fairly shortly afterwards. I'd experimented with various combinations of sandals, socks and neoprene overshoes up until this point, but the chafing on my wet feet was not doing me any good and not wanting to get trench foot later on, I decided to just use the sandals bare-footed from here on. I had a breakfast of croissants and pain au chocolat at a roadside boulangerie and then pressed onto Carhaix-Plougher (525km), swiping through this penultimate control to Brest at 9:30am and once again not hanging around to do anything more than fill my bottles with water. After another 20km I stopped for some flapjack and 20km after that found a pleasant café for a quick Café au Lait. Before long I was grinding up the hill to Roc Trevezél, the only significant climb of the whole ride and notable for some fairly large lorries rocketing past a little too close for comfort. The weather got a lot better here and I changed to my short sleeved top before pressing onto Brest. There was a notable headwind to Brest, but I started to feel stronger, not least due to shedding my long trousers and coat for the first time since Paris. The bridge before Brest was spectacular, but conscious of my target to arrive by 2pm, I didn't stop to take photos and pressed on to the control, including a grind up a fairly lumpy hill in Brest itself. I swiped through the Best control (615km) at 13:52, with 8 minutes in hand

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on my target, so once more I high-tailed it through the control only stopping long enough for fresh water. So at over half distance, I'd hit a major psychological goal and every km from here put me closer to Paris. I was also on uncharted territory, having exceeded my previous longest-ever ride. The good weather held for a while after Brest and I pushed hard to make the most of the following wind. The road back to Carhaix was a bit of a roller coaster and I found myself pushing big gears and climbing on the drop handlebars to try and conserve as much momentum as possible. It took just over 4 hours to make it back for my second visit to Carhaix-Plougher (699km) with me swiping through at 6pm. Out of habit more than anything else, I watered-up and made it out of this control ASAP. I wanted to get back to Loudeac today if at all possible, as this would put me roughly two thirds of the way through the ride. It started to rain again on the way out of Carhaix, so after a friendly German cyclist directed me to the shelter of somebody's garage, I donned my still damp wet weather gear once more and carried on with the journey. About half way back to Loudeac, I stopped at a bakery for a coca cola, some pain au chocolat and some 'pain de compagne' (bread of the locality). This was very filling, but the bread was hard to eat and I saved about a third of it for later consumption. I rode for a while on this section with one of the Cardiff Byways guys who was riding a fixed-wheel machine, I was glad of the company and the time passed quickly. Shortly before Loudeac, there was another heavy deluge of rain and my thoughts of pressing further today evaporated. I swiped into the control (775km) at 10pm and once again joined the dormitory queue which this time was a lot shorter. I managed 3 hours sleep here, but it was once again cold and noisy, so at about 2:30am I got back into my wet clobber and headed off into the night. It was still raining and fairly miserable, but I'd spotted a secret control for returning riders on the outbound leg, so knew that I only had to make it about 40km until my next rest. I made it to this secret control a little before 5am and still feeling tired had a couple of hot chocolates, followed by another 2 hours of sleep on the floor of the hall. This took me through to about 7am and dawn, so I'd managed to keep to the 'only sleep during darkness' rule for a little longer. So with two thirds of the ride behind me, I set out to the next control at Tinteniac. I was shortly joined by an American rider from Tennessee (I never did catch his name) who apologised for wheel sucking, but was clearly having a worst time of it than I was. It transpired that he had been unable to eat anything for the previous 2 days and I was amazed that he was still going. We stopped at a road-side control where I had coffee and croissants in one of the intermediate towns. Unfortunately the pastry that my American companion tried to eat disagreed with him and he was unable to keep it down. We rode together all of the way to Tinteniac, although I did have to wait in a couple of places to stay together. I swiped through just before 10am with 858km now under my belt. In time honoured fashion, I bounced the control stopping for nothing other than fresh water. From Tinteniac it was a relatively short run to Fougeres and I again rode with the American chap. After about 10km, he was spent and bid me farewell as he left the route looking for a field to lie down in. I would have liked to have made sure he was alright, but with something like PBP there are times when you just have to press on for the sake of number 1. The run to Fougeres was fairly civilized and I swiped through at 12:20 with 912km under my belt. I stopped for a quick chat with a British chap who I'd talked to on the ferry to France and who was combining a cycle camping holiday with some roadside photography. With my mug shot added to his collection, I pressed on. Things were beginning to dry out at this point and I was in fairly good spirits. The next leg took me to Villaines La Juhel again. I rode with a number of Brits at different points on this leg and stopped at a couple of roadside controls for free coffee, crepes and cakes. The French locals really are amazing and their enthusiasm for the event is part of

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what makes it so special. I took the details of one lady to send a postcard for their PBP wall of fame. Riding into Villaines was the best reception to date with a massive number of spectators cheering each new arrival. I swiped in at 5pm, having reached the 1000km mark. Still feeling strong, I decided to press on to Mortagne au Perche where I intended to form my plan for finishing the ride. It started to rain again during this leg, but I didn't bother to put longs back on, preferring the free movement of my shorts. Good progress was made and by 9pm I'd made it to Mortagne (1082km) and swiped in. I downed a couple of hot dogs, some hot chocolate and took stock of what to do next. I was feeling mentally wide awake and strong and was half of the mind to push on for a dawn finish in Paris, however I'd been really hammering up the various short climbs to Mortagne whilst pulling my weight forward on the drop handlebars. My lower back and knees felt like they needed a rest, so I decided to get my head down and at 9:30 checked into the dormitory with a 5am wake-up call. This technically broke the 'only sleep when it's dark' rule, but only just. All was well until I awoke at about 2am to the sound of a Scandinavian rider snoring loudly in my ear. Awake and with my body feeling better, I decided it was time to press onto Dreux and the final control before Paris. This was one of my longest rides in the dark of the whole ride, but I managed to stay awake and stopped at a bakery in one of the towns along the way for Croissants and Pain au Chocolat. As I pressed on, there were an awful lot of exhausted bodies sleeping in space blankets at the side of the road. I caught up with a British rider (and again didn't catch his name), but we had a pleasant ride into Dreux (1156km), where I swiped in at just after 5am. This control was relatively quiet, so I had more Croissants and Pain au Chocolat and some hot chocolate, then headed out for the grand finale. Leaving Dreux, the early light of daybreak was beginning to show and I then end was very much in sight. Somewhere during this final leg, I started to get stomach cramps and was feeling slightly unwell. I put this to the back on my mind, and just tried to grind on to Paris on auto-pilot. This worked relatively well, although I lost a lot of time in about the final 15km. The return route to the gymnasium takes riders through an never-ending stream of traffic lights, all of which seem to turn red at the sight of a tired rider. Still, a few cheers from onlookers and I was soon approaching the final roundabout. There was a sizeable crowd of onlookers and Gendarmes stopped the traffic whilst I was marshalled into the gymnasium compound. I quickly parked the bike and headed into the control inside of the gymnasium. Luckily there wasn't much of a queue and I swiped through at 9:49am having covered the full 1225km in a time of 83:59. The atmosphere at the finish was as much of a carnival as the start, but I was feeling not well, and after a shower went to lie down in the dormitory upstairs. Within an hour, I was being sick repeatedly. I managed to gingerly make it to my hotel in the early afternoon and spent the next day fighting sickness and diarrhoea whilst trying to sleep. Getting Home My illness put pay to my plans for 3 x 200km rides to get home, so on Saturday I took the bike to the nearest station to try and secure passage for me plus bike to Caen. This I was told (wrongly) couldn't be done without me disassembling the bike into a box. I therefore resolved to ride as far towards Caen as my empty body could propel me, resorting to taxi travel to complete the journey. Luckily however I was saved this expense when I called into a rural station about 30km West of Paris and found a much more helpful member of staff who sold me a ticket to Caen with 1 change. This was most welcome, as I don't think that my body would have got me much further. From Caen it was a 20km crawl along the dual carriageway to Oistrehem and the ferry. At the Ferry I ran into some British riders from Derby Mercury Cycling Club and we shared war stories and tea on the way back to Portsmouth. We hit Portsmouth at dawn and after a

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carefully eaten bacon sandwich and coffee, went our separate ways at Portsmouth railway station. Much to my dismay, after about half an hour of travel, I found myself offloaded in Romsey in favour of someone with a bike reservation. The next train through also had full bike racks, but I managed to convince the conductor to let me squeeze the bike in and made it to Salisbury. I'd had enough at this point, so rather than spend the day hoping for a train with bike facilities got my parents to come and get me. I rested for a day in Bradford on Avon, and returned to Aberystwyth on bank holiday Monday with my good lady who had turned out to get me in the car. The Recovery At the time of writing, some 3 weeks have elapsed since PBP. I've managed to recover most of my sleep debt now, by a combination of early nights and lazy mornings and have been back to eating normally for about a week. Probably mostly due to my illness, I lost 1 stone of body weight whilst in France and weighed in at 11 stone (70kg) on my return home. I've managed to put some weight back on, but am still half a stone lighter than I used to be. My other problem is a residual numbness in my finger tips. I suspect that this will take a few weeks to sort itself out. What Next? Well, upon reflection, I've bettered my greatest physical achievements a half dozen times over the last year or so. I think what I'd like to do from here on is to build up to one long ride per year along the lines of PBP. In 2008, I'd like to try one of a couple of possible 1200km rides in North America. The flagship British event London-Edinburgh-London takes place in 2009 (1400km). I'll find something in 2010 and in 2011 I would very much like to have another go at PBP. Final Word Since getting back, I've read a number of tales of woe from other PBP hopefuls who got into difficulty on the road and weren't able to complete it. I consider myself very lucky that I didn't get ill until finishing the ride and am very sympathetic to those who weren't so lucky. Better luck next time! AC

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Ed Felker PBP 2007: Time to Ride! After four years, just 90 minutes remain before the first wave of PBP riders leave St. Quentin en Yvelines for Brest. Our friends in the 90 hour group are clopping around in their bike shoes, putting away their luggage and mounting up for the pre-ride dinner and initial start at 9 p.m. DC Randonneurs at PBP See the rest of my Saturday, Sunday and Monday photos Here It is shaping up to be a wild evening. There are three waves of 80-hour riders, 1,362 in all, going off at 8 p.m. Then the 90-hour tandems at 9, then six waves of 90-hour singles starting at 9:30. They all add up to 3,122 riders. Another 770 of us depart tomorrow morning. In all, a record signup of 5,254 riders. We have been warned in an email from ACP that the Loudeac sleep control is likely to be overwhelmed on the outbound leg and that riders should consider going on to Carhaix. As I expected, Saturday our quiet pre-ride days ended with the arrival of the last of the Americans and many other foreigners. The Campanile hotel was buzzing, forming the the base for multiple warmup rides on Saturday morning, with the Seattle, Davis, and D.C. groups going out on the course. Local stalwarts Mary Crawley rode out with her tandem partner Jeff Bauer of Tennessee, and Roger Hillas arrived here at the Manet. Sadly, Bob Sheldon took a spill on the DC warmup ride. He swiped a little curb and went down hard on his hand, and broke his wrist. He ended up with pins and a cast and is out of PBP. He had a rough first 24 hours but is much improved and is heading home early to mend. Steve, Lynn and I, with more than 200K in our legs this week, got off the bike and went to Paris. We saw two places I’ve never encountered, the Musee de l’Orangerie, which holds huge Monet paintings in addition to Renoir, Cezanne, Picasso, Modigliani, and other greats. We also went to the historic Pere Lachaise cemetery, where Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf, Oscar Wilde and other luminaries are buried amidst elaborate 19th century burial plots of Parisian families. Immense is the best word to describe it, along with moving monuments to Holocaust victims and French WWII resistance fighters. Sunday saw the traditional inspection and document retrieval at the start, but in a surprise ACP did not inspect the bikes. Maybe it was due to the drizzle? We simply picked up our control cards and jersies. We hear they are going to check bikes for lights tonight and tomorrow as we enter the soccer field area. Showers rolled through all day with cool temperatures. It led to some dark humor amongst the randonneurs fearing a cold, wet ride out to Brest. The forecasts have improved somewhat but it’s still a good bet that we will get wet sometime in the next four days. We had some sun this afternoon, but now the skies are cloudy again. Today was preparation day. Greg and I walked the 30 minutes to the Campanile and bought last minute supplies at the Carrefour, and came back to the Manet to tinker with the bikes and put our drop bags got on the truck to Loudeac. After a 90 minute nap I’m now trying to stave off an adrenaline rush until I can get, hopefully, five hours sleep tonight. I’m ready to go now. We all are. Am I excited? You bet! I so wish MG was here to share with me. I will keep her in my thoughts throughout.

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Thanks for reading everyone. I’ll have more to say, and photos, on Friday. Back in Paris I did it! My third PBP is in the books. This one was far different from the other two, due to rain. It made the ride much more difficult because it took longer to get from control to control, which meant less sleep, which made it harder to keep moving. Plus, we all had to carry rain gear and stop to put it on and take it off. The good news is that the DC Randonneurs group posted great rides and showed real grit in adverse conditions. Also, I failed to mention a strong ride, as you’d expect, from John and Nancy Guth, and Bob Olsen of NJ and Mary Crawley (with tandem partner and TDR buddy Jeff Bauer of Tennessee) from PA. Tired, Wet, with 227k to go from Villaines La Juhel Here’s a brief report I sent to the DC Randonneurs list. More to come after I get some sleep in an actual bed. Hi from Paris! thanks to everybody who took interest in our progress. I came in at approx. 2:45 p.m. Paris time and was swiped in at the final control around 3 p.m., giving me an 82 hour result. Here’s what I saw and heard before coming back to my hotel; some of it is second-hand so please allow me the chance to post updates, especially about the folks who I don’t have first-hand knowledge. Andrea Matney developed problems keeping food down, made it back to Tinteniac from Brest, and stopped. Nick Bull had a cold develop into something worse during the ride which put him on the bubble. I saw him between Carhaix and Brest outbound, with Tom Reeder, and he sounded hoarse but was in good spirits. I don’t know his final result. On his second attempt, Tom made it in to the finish — a huge accomplishment for him — but it’s not clear to me if he is official. The 90-hour cutoff was 3:30 p.m., plus the differential for the six 15-minute waves, up to 90 minutes more, but we didn’t hear what ACP was going to do with those close to their official limit. Justin Castillo is in the same boat with a barely-late arrival. ACP allowed 90-hour riders to continue if they made the controls up to 2 hours late due to heavy rain episodes the first night out, but we saw posted signs at the controls that said finishing times were not extended. That of course could have changed this afternoon, but we were not informed of any bonus time at the finish. Jim Levitt stopped at Tinteniac with an achilles issue. It appears Chris Burckhardt also stopped, as did Bill Arcieri, but I don’t know what happened and won’t find out until tomorrow at the earliest. I saw them both on Wednesday headed to Brest, and they were falling behind the 2-hour allowance. Chris had an extra hour outright due to his assistance with a rider who crashed. Maile Neel and our Michigan buddy Michael Murray, who did our 600K and rode with her, scratched and clawed their way through sleep deprivation to finish with time to spare. Paul Donaldson, Chris Mento, Carol Bell, Clare Zecher and Matt Settle did not appear to be in real danger but had to keep moving, never getting a long sleep stop from what I heard from them. Matt said he totaled three hours sleep throughout. Steve and Lynn rode with style, running in all night from Villaines to finish in good stead with a solid 3-4 hour sleep block each night.

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Our schedules were somewhat in sync — I arrived at our Loudeac hotel both Tuesday and Wednesday evenings around 2:30 a.m. to find them up and dressed for the next day’s ride. The ever-chipper Greg Conderacci posted a sparkling 72 hour run on his first PBP. Bob Casciato slowed after Brest and still managed 68:13 with John Fuoco coming in with him. John’s brother Art rode with a broken right hand in a cast and still finished this afternoon. A rider here at the hotel said Randy Mouri, who rode in the 80-hour group, developed the early stages of Shermer’s neck but otherwise rode without problems. Dave Gaudette suffered a numb arm at one point and massaged it back to life to finish this afternoon. I never saw Linda. The rain was worst for the 90-hour riders, who were dumped on multiple times early Tuesday. Those of us in the 84-hour group were hit with a passing storm on Tuesday morning for 90 minutes or so, then passing cold showers rolled across the course every few hours and we saw the sun in brief flickers before the next batch of dark clouds would descend upon us. The temperatures stayed in the 50s and low 60s. Fortunately, we’d usually get enough of a break to dry out between showers. As the ride progressed I would ride through light storms without putting on a jacket since we could see brighter skies in the distance. It just depended on your schedule and location on the course if you got more or less rain. The net effect was the rain squelched a lot of the magic of PBP. We saw fewer roadside rest stops and slower speed averages, which led to greater time pressures, and less sleep for the slower folks. More sleepy riders on the road resulted in more accidents. Weaving riders, especially at night, were a constant danger. Jeff Bauer and Mary Crawley said they saw five separate incidents of riders running off the road during the wet, late night Thursday run from Villaines to Mortagne. We had, of course, no illumination from the moon, and the Euro riders were typically underlit. As you’d expect, group riding took great care when roads were slick and desperate riders took risks seeking to stay attached to fast groups. I dropped out of groups that grew unmanageably large and sketchy in the rain. Adding to the problems was the big field, which made the controls extra busy all the way through Friday, but we also heard of a huge DNF factor, something in the range of 1500, by Wednesday. The new control at Dreaux was as dreary as the former at Nogent, but it eliminated some of the worst chipseal roads. That’s all for now. More to come on TDR. Congratulations to everyone who finished and a big pat on the back to everyone who put their bike on the road for this PBP.

PBP: Ed’s Story My PBP 2007, by Ed Felker Ed on the Way to Loudeac, Day 1 In the days leading up to PBP 2007, the question arose again and again: what’s your plan? When will you try to finish? I said I’d like to come in somewhere in the 70-to-80 hour range, though the reality was that I was likely to finish somewhere in the low 80s, and that I would ride to get as much sleep as possible with the 84-hour limit I had chosen. I rode with the 84-hour group in 1999 and 2003 and it worked for me both times.

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As we hung around St. Quentin en Yvelines before the start we all became convinced it would rain during PBP. The forecasts called for periods of rain throughout. I merrily walked around telling worried American friends, “it’s going to be fine! Maybe a little drizzle!” But we knew that for the first time since PBP 1987, we were looking at a full-on rainy PBP. A group of us from the Auberge du Manet hotel strolled out to the course on Monday evening to see the 80-hour riders and then the first 90-hour riders. We called out to Randy Mouri and Steve Ashurst and Lynn Ho on tandem as they rolled past in light rain. Then it was back to bed to get a little nap before our own start. Tuesday morning Roger Hillas, me, Greg Conderacci and Bob Casciato rolled over to the start to get in line with Bill Beck, Max Prola and brothers Art and John Fuoco, also among us in the 84-hour group. The anticipation to get started was palpable, but with heavy clouds overhead, it was not a perfectly joyous moment. Finally the gun went off and the pack surged. We covered the initial kilometers as a group but gradually stretched out as bottlenecks let the fast starters scoot away. Greg, Roger, Bob and Bill were gone and I sat up at a more leisurely pace, muttering to myself, “save it for tomorrow, save it for tomorrow,” in respect to the 280 miles ahead to Loudeac and then the hills that bite hard on the way to Brest and back on Day 2. Big groups formed and I rolled with some and rolled through others, depending on their pace. I gradually fell in with Nancy and John Guth, who were keeping a steady pace despite all the bikes on the road. We missed a turn but an elderly Frenchman immediately pointed in the opposite direction, and we only went a kilometer or so before turning back. A massive group we had just passed was now ahead of us again, going slowly up a steep incline, and we had to negotiate them all over again. Halfway to Mortagne au Perche, a steady drizzle was driven by stiff northwest winds into a piercing rain. Many of us stopped to don rain jackets. I was clad in leg warmers over knee warmers, light neoprene booties, wool undershirt, wool jersey, and wool arm warmers. I quickly warmed up a bit too much and constantly worked the zippers to get some ventilation. The groups on the road plodded along in absolute silence, cowering under the rain. I reached Mortagne around 10:30 a.m. I contemplated riding past but realized I had not had much to eat. I ran inside for a quick plate of pasta and a glass bowl of coffee — my favorite food group at PBP. The sun came out as I sat and I felt better about the day ahead! The first day is always daunting to me. I wondered, “Will my legs hold up?” It had been five weeks since my last really long ride of 200K or more, and I feared knee pain, Achilles pain, seat pain, and stomach troubles. I also feared the rain and wind would wipe out any sleep I hoped to get in Loudeac that night. From Mortagne to Villaines La Juhel I generally felt pretty good, and slowed to visit with the Americans, including Lisa Butkus and Art Fuoco, I encountered along the way. I arrived at Villaines in mid-afternoon and downed a small meal and some more coffee. It helped to have ridden PBP before, so I knew where to get my control book stamped before dashing across the street to get fed. Leaving Villaines, my memory told me the segment to Fougeres was not terribly hilly and that I should get there around dinnertime, and it worked out that way perfectly. I had the chance

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to catch up to Lew Meyer, a D.C. Randonnuer from New Jersey in his third PBP, this time in his 70s. He looked better than me, I thought; I want to ride that strongly in my 70s. On the way into the control, I ran up to Bill Arcieri, who had started with the 90-hour group and was worried about making the coming controls. I encouraged him to keep going. He looked fit and alert, and I took those as good signs! At Fougeres I found Bill Alcorn and the State College group gathering to leave and I remarked that someday I’d get there with them rather than when they were leaving. Bill and I rode a whole day together at PBP ‘99 and he got a good laugh out of my comment. I also greeted Jeff Bauer and Mary Crawley, which was great news to me as they are two of my favorite randonneurs, and they were on tandem so I could bug them simultaneously as we rode on into the evening. I thought I might be overdoing it on the food and decided I better not have another big meal at Tinteniac, fearing I might never get to Loudeac. At each stop I had only used about 35 minutes and had not stopped in between controls, so overall I was making decent time. The road to Tinteniac was also relatively flat and we made good time. I also found Roger Hillas along this stretch and spent some time with a group of French riders who were interviewed, while they rode, by a passing television crew who shot video out of the sunroof. Mary, Jeff and I also had a weird encounter with a couple on tandem and tried to make conversation with them, but they appeared to be having a rolling “tandem team meeting” over their pace. He looked peeved, she looked drawn, and they were in no mood to talk. They kept passing us before fading back again, for no apparent reason. Jeff, Mary and I decided finally to turn on the jets and get away from them. This was no time to hang around grumpy riders! We rolled into to Tinteniac around 10 p.m. with streamers of lingering daylight highlighting the night sky. I stocked up at the outdoor cafe tent where the staff scrounged up some orange juice for my bottle, which I diluted to make a sports drink. I also had a jambon sandwich as a little calorie insurance before we lit out for Loudeac. The ride to Loudeac seemed to take forever, because it is gradually ascending and the speed drops in the dark. The fact that we had already done nearly 400K and still had another 40 miles to go had nothing to do with it! The towns were sparkling, however, especially St. Meen, where the town square was fully lit up. Here we rode with Jack Holmgren of Oakland, Calif., in high spirits as usual. He asked about Mary and me and wondered why she was not here, and generally kept us entertained with that Jack brand of loopy enthusiasm. We made it to Loudeac around 2 a.m. and found a bustling control; riders were scurrying about getting showers, checking into the dorm, controlling and crowding the cafeteria. Claus Claussen appeared and he accompanied me on his mountain bike to the nearby Voyageurs Hotel. Inside I found Steve Ashurst and Lynn Ho, just up from their sleep and eating breakfast. They looked great. I said to myself, “a little sleep and a shower, and you, too, will hit the road, fresh and ready!” DAY 2 LOUDEAC-BREST-LOUDEAC At 5:30 the wake-up call came. I jumped up (ha, ha!) and looked outside from my little matchbox room to see clouds but no rain. Hooray! At breakfast I talked with Steve and Peggy

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Rex and we ultimately left town more or less together. I stopped briefly to slap a big second skin pad on my upper thigh where my shorts were chafing and rode on to catch them in time to rocket down a few big rollers in their draft. I burned a lot of calories hanging on with them, and I let go just before we headed into the woods. I truly enjoyed this segment through St. Martin des Pres and the other towns to Carhaix, despite the increasing hills. I was finally out of the farm lands and on the way to Brest! I spied Clint Provenza, Jim Levitt and Chip Adams just before we were pulled off the road for the first secret control at the FFCT offices at Corlay. It was purely a swipe and run stop, and when I came out they were nowhere to be found. I spotted their bikes at a pharmacy on the way out of town and surmised someone had a medical issue on their hands. This segment was harder than expected. We had sunny skies but a steady north breeze cut across our wheels. It was not a pure headwind but it was hindering nonetheless, and it took some Zen patience. I spoke with Allison Bailey of the Oregon Randonneurs, who was making good time on her Rivendell Romulus and was in good cheer. At Carhaix I had a nice talk with a French gentleman in street clothes who wanted to know more about my Rivendell Bleriot 650B-wheeled bike. He was a member of the Confrerie des 650 (see: www.confreriedes650.org/eng-index.php ), which is a group of enthusiasts in France who have sought to preserve this traditional wheel size. I failed to get his name, but I think he found me on the web because my inbox included a copy of the group’s newsletter when I got to a computer after the ride! (Guy Chartier, if that was you, send me an email care of his site.) Of all the bikes I encountered, I didn’t see any 650B bikes at PBP this time other than another Bleriot, though there might have been a tandem or two with them. The overwhelming majority of bikes around me were racing bikes with strap-on half-fenders or rear spray guards. If 650b is coming back, it’s not at PBP, yet. The cafeteria line was short enough to justify another quick meal. I saw Chip, Clint and Jim come through as I sat with Mark from Colorado, who was having a miserable day after getting less sleep than he expected and falling behind schedule. He and I rode together for awhile to the control and I gave him the advice I needed myself — keep moving, sleep when you have to, stay focused on the next control. Outside in the sun, I peeled off layers and applied sunscreen, and I (vainly) hoped we had left the brunt of the rain and clouds behind us. I talked with a group of Philadelphia riders that included Joel Flood and Patrick Gaffney, who rode our DCR 300K in April. One of them gave me a bottle of unneeded Hammer Gel, which would come in quite handy later when calories became critical. Another hour, another long control stop, and I was back on the road to Brest. This segment includes the gradual ascent to the Roc Travezel, the high point of the ride topped by a tall communications tower. I found lots of DCR riders in this segment. Bernd Kral appeared, and I stopped to exchange hugs (!) with Nick Bull and Tom Reeder, whom was I was tickled to see that after two days on the road and the turnaround in relative sight. Nick was sick and sounded hoarse, but he and Tom looked sprightly. Goon Koch and I exchanged greetings and we compared his lovely red custom Rivendell road bike to my Bleriot. I envied his bike, it was among the prettiest on the road. I summited RT and pointed my wheel toward Brest. The wind was howling but gravity made all well. I caught up to Matt Settle and we had a nice chat, and later I ran up to Clare Zecher,

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who was looking and sounding fresh and chipper as she exited the brush. Clare gets a gold star for riding solo without worrying, at least outwardly. Unlike many other PBP riders, she seemed content to stay focused on the next control whether she had a draft or not. We turned on a highway side road and there stood our prize — the pedestrian bridge overlooking the harbor at Brest, cool winds and blue skies whipping off the fatigue and soreness. Picture time! In a near replay of four years ago, I arrived at the hilltop control around 4 p.m. at Brest just ahead of Roger Hillas amidst a swirling mass of hot riders in bright sun. Bill Glass from Tennessee emerged from the humid, smelly control building looking a little down, and I gathered he was not having a fun time. “Hey Bill, how’s it going?” I gushed, to which Bill replied with something along the lines of, “could be better.” I felt the same but figured I better keep an outward image of contentment. At least the ride was halfway done. A group of us DCR’s formed for the run out of town: Matt, Clare, Ron Tosh, and me. I moved up and joined a tall British couple who were motoring along, though I slowed along the way to chat with Thai Nguyen of Seattle, George Winkert, Max Prola and Justin Castillo. Further up the ascent of the Roc Travezel I found Maile Neel and Michael Murray of Michigan. A little nature break was turned into an embarrassing adventure by the gusty winds — I’ve just got to remember to stop before reaching the Roc next time. We topped the summit at 8 p.m. and began the big, fun downhill stairstep return to Carhaix. (The summit area was teeming with illegal support, with at least one marked support car brazenly parked by the side of the road. I took a photo for evidence — Support Car 0945, you cheated!) Tandems and fast pacelines shot past on the left as we hunkered down for the fast dips. By the time I arrived at Carhaix a big support crowd had gathered on the street near the control and I called out to Ruth Reeder before whooping it up as I entered the control. I was feeling good at this point: back in Carhaix with good legs and my bed in Loudeac within my sights. The day’s sunlight was just about gone and a big line formed in the cafeteria. The cafe was much quieter and I bought some soup, a jambon sandwich, and had a minute to greet Carol Bell. She was prepping for a nap in some clean space behind the dinner tables. Chris Mento was nearby but I did not see him. The area there was quiet, clean and cool. In the parking lot I found Jeff and Mary, and Lisa Butkus, and I joined them for the initial blast to Loudeac. We were chugging along in the darkness when I felt my rear tire starting to go squishy. Jeff gave me his CO2 inflator and I pulled over in a driveway to change the tube. (The culprit? A leaky valve. Grrrr.) Flat fixed, I lit out solo, right into the next rainfall. Oh well. It started out lightly enough and with the slight tailwind I ignored it. But it turned into a steady fall just as I was flying through the woods with a group of Americans, including Dale Brigham of Columbia, Mo. who I had ridden with four years ago. We all pulled over to put on our rain jackets and I rode hard to catch back on, but didn’t find them until I stopped at the roadside cafe at St. Martin des Pres around 12:30 a.m. Here I sat with Peter Beeson of Seattle and Cascade 1200 fame, and his tandem partner Max Maxson, and Lisa B., trying to dry out, warm up, or both. Art Fuoco showed up for a spell, no worse the wear for riding with his right wrist in a cast. I rationalized this stop on the grounds that I would not have to eat before going to bed when I got to the hotel. Really, I wanted a break before another hour’s ride to Loudeac, and hoped

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the rain would stop. Around 1:20 the rain was still coming down and realized I better leave if I was to get any sleep, and so I got on the bike and left. Riders were dragging themselves in ones and twos through the little roads up to Loudeac but I found one rider with strong legs, Theresa Lynch of the San Francisco Randonneurs, who traded turns with me punching up and down the hills. The rain subsided within a few miles and we rode hard, using all the lighting we had at our disposal and the taillights of the riders ahead for guides. We lost each other on the run into Loudeac, where I again arrived around 2:15 a.m. After a dash through the control, I pedaled to the hotel on quiet, wet streets. There I found Steve and Lynn up and dressed for the ride ahead, again in their usual good spirits. Well, Steve was not thrilled about the rain, but they were in great shape with three more hours sleep and a positive attitude. DAY 3 LOUDEAC TO MORTAGNE Back at Breakfast, I sat again with Steve and Peggy Rex and some other Americans at our hotel. While the majority of the kilometers were behind us, the hardest part of the ride lay ahead. Sleep deprivation and sore muscles and bottoms were starting to take their toll. I pondered riding into Paris with naps rather than stop for a sleep break at Villaines or Mortagne. I wouldn’t know until that evening how I would feel, though I had the feeling the weather would not help. Back at the control, I dropped off my bag in steady rain around 7 a.m. with the skies nearly nighttime dark, despite dawn due in less than 30 minutes. With a big exhale, I mounted up and pedaled off toward Paris. Today would mark my worst start. I felt toxic inside and pedaled without much enthusiasm. The kilometers dragged. In Meneac I pulled over to get a coffee and pastry and just didn’t have the energy to go into a cafe. I contented myself with a few Clif Shot blocks, those gummy sucrose squares, and looked around for something to do. For fun I cut down an outbound route sign for a souvenir, and lashed it to the top of my Carradice bag. I recalled they are tough to find near the finish, if at all! The rain subsided and I felt better at the secret control, where I had a snack and coffee. The control was full of riders sleeping on the floor. I took a photo of Clare Zecher, (still smiling!), a couple of the riders sacked out at the control, and started out again with renewed interest. Just as I was toodling along, a British fellow pulled alongside and said, in a grave tone, “You better get rid of that sign. Local charity groups sell them and you can get disqualified for removing it.” But, I protested, it’s an outbound sign! Those are alright, yes? “No, it’s in the rules,” he replied. “Well, maybe you’re right. I better think about this,” I said. “Better give it to me,” he said, and then he burst out laughing! I knew I’d been fooled with aplomb. “Actually, I wish I had thought of it myself,” he added, with a broad grin. Tinteniac magically appeared and I didn’t do much there other than get another jambon sandwich and my new favorite drink, a half-coffee-half-hot chocolate. It took a minute to explain but the helpful lady at the cafe table seemed impressed with this little culinary invention — or abomination. Whatever. I got tremendous boosts from these drinks.

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I’m a little foggy about the ride to Fougeres. It was damp and cool and I started feeling soreness creep into my legs. I controlled through at Fougeres and got in the cafeteria line. I had a nice talk with Greg from Australia about his marathon flight itinerary to France, and met a couple enthusiastic fellows from Germany. They read Lothar Hennighausen’s story of his 1000K and made the connection that I was also from Lothar’s home club here in Washington. Around the corner I found Chris and Carol. She was taking another power nap in a nearby chair with a mask over her eyes. Chris looked as fresh as ever. Leaving town I had the chance to see Branson Kimball and Bob Olsen, two more riders who rode with the DCRs this spring. Back on the road to Villaines, I started planning for a nighttime sleep stop of some kind. It wasn’t worth it to me to crash in the ditch overnight just to finish three hours earlier, if I was not in trouble with the control closings. The road was clogged with riders and I made the acquaintance of Bill Roberts from London, who rode similarly to me. We chatted about AUK brevets and our PBP experiences and had a nice talk. I also rode up to Thai Nguyen and discovered he had torn off his derailleur when he dropped his chain and tried to pedal it back onto the big ring. With the help of another rider, they shortened it and found a suitable cog to turn the bike into a single speed bike. Thai was witness to a bad hit-and-run accident during the Cascade 1200 last summer. Here he was again, pushing through more bad luck with a smile and calm attitude. Thai, you are my hero! Chip and Clint appeared again on this segment, but without Jim Levitt. They were unsure of his whereabouts, not knowing he had stopped at Tinteniac with an inflamed Achilles tendon. I arrived at Villaines around 8 p.m. and ate a jambon sandwich and drank more choco-coffee. I spoke with Peggy and Steve Rex and they looked a little down so I left them and remounted. Just as I clicked in to leave town I noticed the Des Peres Travel bag drop and I stopped to ask if Steve and Lynn had taken their bag — they had, but they had not returned it. I thought it might be nice to ride with them to Mortagne, but after 30 minutes of hanging around the bag drop, I realized they were taking more time to sleep and I had to face the rain alone. A big group of Danes rolled up behind me and I sensed good things to come. Little did I know it would be like Halloween on the road — scary! The Danes rolled fast and a relatively large group convened quickly. My eyes were glued to the riders ahead and my hands were locked on the brake levers as we corkscrewed downward out of town. I heard someone speak in English next to me, and struck up a nervous conversation with my fellow rider. I dared not look sideways for fear of plowing into the group. He was British, and said he lived in London, and I said, stupidly, “Do you know Bill Roberts?” Of course, it was Bill himself, who dryly replied, “Hi Ed,” and, again, I had to laugh at myself. I saw Theresa Lynch ahead and called to her to come into our little follow group, and we did what we could to hold back the horde behind us from integrating the Danes, who were riding perfectly spaced apart in the steady rain and road spray. Our plan didn’t last long. We swept past a couple of guys who jumped on their pedals and shoved their way into the gap between us and the Danes. A Danish female momentarily

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slowed to avoid an overlap and one of these rabbits swerved right across her front wheel to move up. She then veered hard left, directly into Theresa’s right side side. Miraculously, they balanced each other for a few hair-raising moments, shoulder to shoulder, and managed to stay upright! My danger alarm went off at the sight of this spectacle and I bid Bill farewell. I pulled over to take off my jacket and take a nature break. The rain stopped and a few stars twinkled in a patch of clear sky. This was the first time other than in Brest I stopped to just look around and take stock of the adventure underway. I stopped in the next town at midnight and took a half-hour coffee and sandwich break at a cafe. I watched again for Steve and Lynn but they would not come by for another couple of hours, I learned later. I was wide awake but still hoping for a sleep break and when I couldn’t put it off any longer, rode on to Mortagne. I enjoyed this segment. For once the road was not badly clogged and I could carry some speed. I made it into the Mortagne control after 2 a.m. I decided to take a shower and get a nap in the dorm if there was no line. Surprisingly, the dorm was not full and they ushered me right in. I took a cold shower, for free. They explained the shower fee was waived due to the lack of hot water! I put on dry shorts, socks and a wool undershirt from my Carradice bag and fell into my cot for two-and-a-half hours of warm and dry sleep. I fell asleep not to the sounds of crickets and birds, but to a steady refrain of farting, snoring, and rustling. DAY FOUR — MORTAGNE TO PARIS At 6 a.m. they shook my foot and I hauled myself back to the dining hall and immediately saw Maile, Michael, Jeff, Mary, and other familiar faces. Maile exclaimed, “Oh my God,” when she saw me. I guess I still had on my Halloween mask! We all looked like a little, well, unlike ourselves at that point. Jeff and Mary had overcome some mechanical problems since I had seen them two evenings before, and were in good shape, but tired. We talked about leaving at 7 a.m., which resulted in us getting up from the table at 7:05 a.m., and we rolled out at 7:15 a.m. The road descended away from the control and we stayed together initially, but some big rollers cropped up and I pedaled away from Jeff and Mary for good, it turned out. I kept expecting them to sweep me on a downhill but they would take it easy and were in no mood for a big effort. The riders at this point were on the ends of the spectrum between sharply focused and those barely awake, dangerously riding the center line as they wove. The only safe method to pass was to take a wide arc in the oncoming traffic lane. I negotiated a sweeping left-hand bend to see a rider covered in a space blanket on the left side of the road after crashing — the ambulance would come soon. It was sad. Up a hill I saw Maile and Michael stopped while he fixed a flat. She waved me on but sounded upset. A few minutes later Maile galloped up to me alone, dejected that she had to leave Michael in order to make the next control. We worked through her control closing time based on her start wave and it seemed she and Michael would make it with more than enough time, but still she worried about Michael. “He wouldn’t want both of you to arrive late because of him,” I said. “He will get an adrenaline rush when he remounts and you’ll both make it to Dreux just fine.”

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A speedy group swept past with some folks familiar to Maile, and she jumped in and was gone. She and Michael would, indeed, arrive at the control well inside the limit, their partnership well intact. Dreux took forever to arrive. I dragged in at 10:30 a.m., feeling exhausted. Still, with more than six hours to finish I felt in control of my situation. I ate what I could and had coffee and chatted with John and Nancy Guth, who should have been hours ahead of me, but found the going slow with all the riders and the time at the controls. I left and rolled up to Matt Settle briefly before going forward. My progress didn’t last long, however, as the dreaded sleep monster got me and I had to stop for my first roadside nap of the entire ride. I took 15 minutes sleep in a covered church entryway and awoke refreshed enough to move out again. Matt was on the road ahead and I came alongside him. “Matt, you’ll be proud of me. I took a nap!” I crowed, knowing him to be the master of the power nap. I rode past Clare in this segment, still smiling. “Fake it ’til you make it,” she said in one of our earlier meetings, and she was making it. I marveled at how the right attitude and determination can overcome the many challenges of PBP. I tend to get introspective at the end of 1200s and this one was no different. I rode by myself mostly, mulling over big thoughts. I shrugged off the shower that swept across the course as we came into the outskirts of St. Quentin. I was ready to finish, and I had enough of the rain jacket stops. My DCR wool jersey kept me warm. After all the red lights, we made the turn into the circle at the finish! Hoooooooray! I thrust my arms into the sky. The finish at PBP is always sweet, and this one was nearly perfect. The only thing missing was MG. Mark Thomas of Seattle called out to me, a nice moment that someone I knew saw me finish. I entered the control around 2:55 and was finally swiped in a 3:02 p.m. for an 82:02 finish. That put me just a half-hour beyond my 2003 time. Not bad! EPILOGUE This PBP was all about staying comfortable and using mental energy carefully. I was so glad to have a rain-capable bike and a big saddlebag to carry rain gear and dry clothing. I can’t say enough good things about my Bleriot and the wide 650b Grand Bois tires, and my Brooks B-17 saddle. (Oh, and let’s not forget second skin pads. I applied a couple more in strategic places along the way!) I was sore but not damaged like I was after other 1200s. This PBP I finished with pride, not for covering the distance, but using my head to stay safe and get home without taking huge risks. To all who participated in this PBP, including those who did not finish, I say BRAVO!

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Lothar Hennighausen Bon Courage, Bonne Route Since January 2007 I single mindedly worked towards one goal only: Paris-Brest-Paris. I was fixated on riding the most challenging and most "enjoyable" of all long distance cycling events, the quadrennial PBP. As Bob Sheldon would say: "I was a man on a mission". The task at hand: cycle the 1227 km in less than 90 hours regardless of weather conditions or any other impediments and still have fun. I had fun and lots of it - I enjoyed every single second of this ride. But the adrenaline rush was over in a blink of an eye, carrying in its wake a letdown of enormous proportion. My dear wife Priscilla, recognizing the effects of the dramatic buildup followed by this brief moment of greatness and the inevitable rapid descent into a void, put me right back on track to the next mission: back to work and making discoveries. But just work, and even discoveries, just does not cut it. I immediately went to the PAC Tour web site and signed up for the Peru Tour in October. Three weeks have passed and wonderful memories remain. But there are also those numb fingers that just do not want to get better. Bon Courage, Bonne Route! It was those words that I heard thousands of times shouted by 1000s of spectators during the 1227 km and 83+ hours between the departure from Paris and my return - and the mere thought of this grand event still send shivers down my spine. People from all walks of life were lining the streets, farmers waved from their tractors, a woman leaned out of her window at the wee hours to wish me "Bon Voyage", locals were standing in drenching rain to cheer the riders, and when leaving the controls volunteers always sent us off with the now so familiar Bon Courage, Bonne Route! Some of the DC riders before our Saturday outing Remember the Riders There were many of us from the DC area - hardend riders who had battled the hills of Maryland, Virginia, West Virginia and Pennsylvania. We had survived Crista's Torture Fests and Matt's "grinder" Brevets. This picture features only some of us who rode on Saturday. I met plenty of interesting folks on the road. On the way to Loudeac I caught up with our very President Mark Thomas. I chatted with him for some time and always called him Matt but he didn't seem to mind. John Lee Ellis was another one of those guys whom you run into all the time. Then there was Ed from Texas. We rode together the first night so I do not really know his face and only his voice. Returning to Loudeac I cycled with this guy who did not carry any major bag, obviously he had a support vehicle. Wrong, he lived in Loudeac and stayed on the way out and back in his house - how convenient.

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After I left Loudeac for Tinteniac I met this guy from Chile who lives in Norway. He was traumatized from the 2003 PBP where he missed the closing time in Brest and DNFed. He clearly made sure that this would not happen again. Where are we? Where is the ***** Hotel Among the usual suspects were Lynn Ho and Steve Ashurst, the tandem couple from Burtonsville. The last time I saw them was in Villaines on the return route as they were tracking down their drop bag and probably checking into a ***** hotel serving wonderful dinners. Yes, young people have quite some lifestyle. And then there was Jentz, a guy from Munich whom I had met at the "Erdinger Radmarathon" earlier in August. We met at every controle between Brest and Villaines, but never on the road. Between Mortagne and Dreux life was lonely. It was after midnight I rode long stretches by myself and sometimes not seeing any lights in front or behind me wondering whether I had missed a turn. But the sleeping riders at the roadside and in the ditches reassured me that I was on track. Then there was this Belgian guy who's seven companions with whom he had left Mortagne all had dropped off to the left and right and were happily snoozing somewhere in the wet grass. We both were happy that we had found each other and he shared his bread with me, which, however, tasted like sweet wet paper. I also met this guy somewhere out there and he told me all about his divorce and how long distance cycling had helped him to get over it. I wonder what I talked about to those perfect strangers and cannot remember. PBP would be ther perfect place for psychiatrists. Sleeping Bavarian And of course there was (and is) my Spetzl Ulli from Munich who taught me so much about fixing bicycles and how to properly pour Bavarian wheat beer into those special glasses. You will be asking what a Spetzl is. A Spetzl is the Bavarian form of a close buddy. We drove together from Munich to Paris and back to Munich and prepared sandwiches , which were supposed to nourish for most of the ride (Ulli just does not like to spend money). However, after about 700 km my mouth was so sore that I could not eat anymore this dark German bread with french salami. Mashed potatoes and beer were more

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gentle on the inflamed mucosa. On the left this is Ulli sleeping peacefully at the outbound secret controle (take notice of the organized arrangement of all his belongings. In Brest, his pedal broke off but he still managed to repair it and arrive back in Paris with plenty of time to spare. Dreux, the last controle. While walking out of the controle after a short nap (it's amazing I can fall asleep within seconds on a hard floor), a cyclist I passed dropped a plastic shopping bag and probably more than 30 AA batteries fell out. I guess she must have been doing a lot of night riding. Certainly my Schmidt SON with the E6 light gave me a good view of path to take. After the short nap I was so drowsy that I could not find my bike, but the helpful volunteers tracked down bike 4832 and I cycled off into the night. Yummy lunch in Carhaix on the return route (left), Breakfast in Dreux at 0400 hours (right) Remember the Food Yes, the food, and there was plenty of it. I had stuffed my handlebar bag with carbs, not the expensive and professional bars from Hammer and alikes, but with cookies I had collected from airline lounges over the past 8 months. And then there 10 ziplock bags with white powder, the stuff that goes into one of the two water bottles and from there directly into the quads - it lasted all the way. Bill Beck had tought me the art of snacking from the handlebar bag and I rode through to Vaillaines where I arrived at 0748 hours. I had achieved one important goal and built a large time cushion, which I kept to the end. Controle in Loudeac on the way back (left) and retour secret controle (right) Remember the Controls Yes, controls are the key and I got all my stamps. After more than 24 hours of riding weird things happened to me. I am not one of those guys who walks 10 times around the car to make sure the doors are locked or who pulls down the door of the postal mail box to make sure the letter dropped. However, things were different on this ride - so much more was at stake. Upon leaving controls I asked myself: Lothar, are you sure the guys at the controle stamped the Brevet card and returned the plastic card?. So while riding in the middle of the night I pulled out the neck pouch they gave us at the start from under my jersey and checked my Brevet card. Well, this happened several times to me, and surely enough I had the stamp. The volunteers staffing the controls were extremely nice the swiping and stamping of thousands of card probably caused repetitive injuries for some of them.

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Roadside Support! Remember those Roadside Families! What would we have done without them, the little helpers on the route! They nourished and encouraged us. As we say in the US, they probably worked 24/7. The guy on the left and his daughter served me coffee and cookies. They also had emptied out their shed and matrasses invited tired riders. Needles to say, they had also set up a repair stand for bicycles. I was lucky as I had no mechanical problem on this monster ride. The family on the right wanted in return for their hospitality a postcard from my native country and they gave me their address. I lost it in the rain. Does anybody have their adress or e-mail?

Me and my beer. This picture was taken on the way back in Mortagne. By that time I had severe trench foot and walking was painful. I called my private physician in the US (1600 hour US time) and after describing the status of me feet she encouraged me to quit. However, this was not in the cards. I went to the infirmary where my feet were treated and after a beer I got on my bike and moved on. Remember Lon Haldeman: Ignore anything that can be cured within a few weeks.

Remember my Birthday! I tuned 55 on August 22nd, I was riding hard and it might well have been the most memorable one I had in a long time. My birthday began taking a nap on the hard floor of the outbound secret controle and ended me leaving Loudeac and heading towards Tinteniac. When I left the secret controle sometimes in the early hours I ran into John Fuoco and Bob Casciato who looked strong and told me they were on track to finish in the low 60s. The night riding to Carhaix was faulous and I truely enjoyed it. Many 80 hour riders were heading back and the show of lights was spectacular. After Carhaix I was riding for some

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time with a fellow US cyclist, who was in the 80 hour group. He had to make it to Brest by 0900 and did not seem to be in a hurry. Dawn broke sometimes after leaving Carhaix and I enjoyed the morning ride. As my birthday present I decided to invite random riders along the route for Cafe au'lait and croissants. Thus I had quite a few birthday guests and a big party. Catherine from the Colorado Randonneurs gave me a nice present, she pulled me for a few km (Thanks Catherine). Riding (or shall I say flying) into Brest under sunny skies was spectacular and like others I had tears in my eyes. But not for long, the climb to the control brought me back to reality. Upon checking in at 0945 I received a voucher for a drink. Great, I had a free beer on my birthday and plenty of cycling - that's all an aging male can ask for. Back in Sizun I ran into for the xth time into John Lee Ellis who was also on his way "home". He was sure that we would be able to finish the ride in time since normally 90% of the DNFs occur at Brest the latest. Well, nothing was normal this year and the PBP web site showed large numbers of DNFs after Brest. I also ran into Carol Bell and Chris Mento who were as chipper as ever. After two roles of goat cheese and coffee I headed up the Roc Trevesal. There was Maile Neel heading towards me and shouting: Happy Birthday Grandpa - this was sweet of her! I saw many other DC riders: Bill Beck with his oversized handlebar bag and the supersize saddle bag, Matt, Ed, Paul, Nick. I returned to Loudeac shortly after 2000 hours, ate some sausage, took a shower and had two beers before I retired to bed. The dorm was rather empty so there was no problem getting a bed. But the beds were wet and the blankets were probably still from the first PBP in 1891 and had never seen a washing machine. I was back on the bike just before my birthday came to an end. I know already for sure that I shall celebrate my 59th birthday again in France ... and ride 1200km

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------Joe Brown, the man who claimed I talked to him in Villaines on the return. As proof he did send me a picture he took of me (images are courtesy of Joe Brown) What I cannot remember! Well, I thought that remembered most of the events on the ride, but reality is more brutal. Last Saturday I rode the Sloanesville 200K Brevet and Bill Beck mentioned that he had arrived shortly after me in Villaines on the return route (editors note: Bill left in the 84 hour group while I rode in the 90 hour group). "How do you know" I asked, "Joe Brown told me" he replied. So I asked Joe, who also rode the 200K how he knew when I had passed through Villaines. He driely replied, "we talked at the Villaine controle" and he sent me a picture of myself at this very controle. I just do not have any recollection of this encounter. But I remember my encounter with Lynn and Steve in Villaines. Lothar Hennighausen, September 2007

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Nathan Kluge Paris Brest Paris – The summary I took the 10 pm start, simply because I did not know what to expect and figured that if I needed the most amount of time then that might just work out. Also, the group that I did my brevets with were all taking the 10 pm. After standing in line for 3 hours, the rain began to fall just as we arrived at the start line. Our Randonneur chapter group of 7 riders wished one another well and the fireworks went off. As our 10:15 wave went under the starting archway, I had to unclip for the first tight corner and actually came to a complete stop so the large group could navigate the bottleneck. That was the last time I saw our chapter together. As our wave made its way out of town the rain fell harder. At the first stop 6 of our group found each other. As we refilled our water bottles the others sat down to eat. I knew that I was weakest riding at night and since I had packed a few jam and nutella sandwiches (I had eaten two already) I said “see you guys on the road” and took off on my own. I knew that they would ride faster to catch up, but I just didn’t want to stop for too long. Leaving Mortagne was when the first feeling of sleep deprivation started to take hold. I was continually dozing on the bike for the next couple of hours in the dark. Since I don’t drink coffee or drink coke I had brought along some caffeine pills to use. I popped one in my mouth and hoped it would take effect. As I hallucinated off and on for the next while I really wondered if I should just pull over. But then my mind started to clear and the daylight started to break, the first sign I had made it through my first night. After that the wind and the rain numbed my thoughts and body all morning long. As I wheeled into the first true control, I had stayed awake all night and was ready for some breakfast. I truly expected to see the other Huron Chapter members arrive, but as I pulled out I knew that I would be riding alone for the next little while. The rain continued to fall and the head wind continued to be an issue. With the wet and cold on my knees, the pain began to set in. As it started to hurt more, my mind started going deeper into questioning if I could continue. I was still on target to get to Loudeac in 24 hours which was my goal, but I was constantly wondering if I should quit. I was tired and sore. I decided to take another caffeine pill. Soon my mind cleared and I wasn’t asking if I should continue- I knew I should. But my knees still hurt. I was amazed at the crowds of spectators in Loudeac as I rolled in at 9:45 pm. I dropped my bike and went to find the sleep station. There were still cots left and I decided to start my sleep rather than eat. I signed up for a 4 hour nap. I bedded down in my cot and had a tough sleep that was littered with bad dreams and a bad smell in the air that stuck in my nose for the rest of the ride. I actually thought it was the smell of the dirt in France, but a nurse

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told me it was the smell of ketones from the riders (myself included) who were burning muscle for energy. I awoke when I started shivering so hard that I could not sleep. Then I tried to straighten my legs and I could not believe how stiff and sore my knees were. I had only slept for 2 hours and 45 minutes. As I stepped outside of the sleep station I felt I had entered a war zone. Bikes were laying everywhere as there was no space to lean them. The line-up for the cots was huge. An ambulance was taking people away on stretchers. The cafeteria was full of cyclists sleeping anywhere they could. I actually felt bad that I had just slept on a cot. I filled up my plate and took a seat beside what I thought was just another sleeping cyclist. Then I realised it was actually three of my friends sleeping at the table around me. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take their picture. I finished the meal and the boys were just waking up so we had a quick chat and then I was off. I was tired leaving Loudeac (it was around 3 am) and I had to pull over in some small town to sleep against the town sign. My knees were hurting more as I rode on. I decided to talk to the medical group at Carhaix to see if they might say that I was doing irreparable damage. Instead they told me to rub some antiinflamatory and told me to keep riding. I told myself I would try and get to Brest and decide from there. Climbing all those hills to Brest was hard on me and my body. On one of the long climbs I was passed by the rider on the old garlic bike. He and I traded back and forth for that one long climb. Before the long descent to Brest, I pulled over and took some photos of the hills and the riders going down. I was thinking that I would not be back biking here again because it was time to throw in the towel. The bridge was another photo opportunity and the steep hill to the control was horrible.

On the bridge to Brest

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I drank my free beer at Brest and asked the interpreter how I could get back to Paris and not by biking. She looked me in the eye and asked why not ride my bike. I think she was calling me out on this and I really didn’t have a decent excuse. Sure I was in pain but who wasn’t at this point. I ran into my friends again and they told me not to give up. I was on a high all of a sudden and I left Brest feeling good. I decided that even though the pain was going to be in my knees I would just keep riding. I was almost hit by a young driver leaving town but other than that the ride back to Loudeac was excellent. I climbed the hills strongly and kept the rest breaks to a minimum. My new pain was beginning in my saddle. Polysporin was helping ease the pain, but I knew that this soreness would plague me for the rest of the ride. The second night in Loudeac was worse than the first. I did get a cot but the sleep was painful and I was awake from shivering within 90 minutes. I had my first shower here and changed my clothes but that didn’t help much because it was raining when I left. The highlight was sitting with a French rider that was going to finish his 7th PBP. Amazing! For the next 2 hours of darkness, I had no difficulty staying awake. As the day went on I really began to feel like I could finish this race. I began to savour the moments of talking with other riders and watching the people standing at the ends of their laneways and waving out their windows cheering us on. It goes without saying it was like nothing I have ever experienced in Canada.

Do I look tired? As I left Villaines with 220 km’s to go, I knew my next ailment was about to take hold. I was unable to see the road anymore when I was down in the drops. Shermer’s neck was beginning and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I began holding my head up with one hand or sitting back as far as possible so that I would sit straight up and this allowed my head to stay up – but it also meant that I could only reach my handlebars with one hand. So either way, I was riding slower and it was depressing as my legs still felt good. At Mortagne I needed medical attention which turned into a neck massage. This didn’t help the Shermer’s neck but did give me more rotation and took away some of the stiffness. I decided that I would try and go all night in case my neck seized right up during another sleep stop and hopefully make it to St. Quentin very early on Friday morning. To this day I don’t know if this was a smart idea or not, as the next few hours were a complete mess for me. I was dozing in and out of sleep on the descents and I was mentally lost for some time. I remember speaking with an Australian and thinking ‘how did I get to Australia, because I know that I am in Quebec’ when really I was in France. I fought these thoughts for a couple hours and finally decided to sleep in a rain soaked ditch for 30 minutes to clear my head. This helped clear my head enough to make it to the next town to get some sleep in the town square. Another 30 minutes and I was off again. I was amazed at all the cyclists sleeping anywhere they could. Trying to find Dreux was difficult. Someone told me there would always be cyclists that I could see en route, but it seemed that I was all on my own a lot of the time and for this

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section I didn’t see another cyclist for 2 hours. When I did find Dreux I made another stop at the medical centre and this time they gave me a nice neck brace. It only lasted a while because it was too low so it didn’t really help and made me feel like I was choking. I can truly say I did not enjoy the ride from Dreux to St. Quentin. I could not keep my head up and I felt like I was going in circles and I was thinking the ride organizers had put in too many short steep hills in that last section. My odometer was not working from the moisture so it felt like St. Quentin would never arrive. Even when I made it to the town limits there were still 15 kilometers to go – and that short 15 seemed forever. Again I was on my own almost the entire last section and only hooked up with some riders in the town limits. We were arriving at morning rush hour and the construction also slowed the arrival. But eventually I crossed the finish line. At the end I drank my free beer and then headed to McDonalds for a Royal Mac. Back at the Novotel, I showered and slept for 4 hours and then hit the laundry machines because I still could not get that smell out of my nose and hoped that washing all of my clothes would help rid me of it. Our entire chapter finished the ride and that night we had a huge celebratory meal with our families. I did a biking tour of Paris a couple days later and returned home 4 days after the end of the race. One month later my neck still annoys me but otherwise I feel fine and can’t help but wonder about how I could improve my finish time. I truly look back on PBP fondly even though the weather was worse than I had anticipated. See you in 2011.

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Paris Brest Paris 2007 - de neerslag Etappe 1: Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines - Mortagne-au-Perche, 140km Luid aangemoedigd door enthousiaste Parisiens vertrekken we om 21u tandemgewijs voor onze aller-retour naar Brest in een bont allegaartje van rijtuigen gaande van triplettes, tricycles, ligfietsen, pistefietsen tot vehikels uit het begin van de vorige eeuw. In ons fluojasje en regenvestje (ja, beste lezer, het miezert een beetje) zijn we er helemaal klaar voor. De eerste vijftien kilometers worden we uitgewuifd door de plaatselijke bevolking die deze vierjaarlijkse fietsonderneming wel kan smaken. Door de diversiteit aan voertuigen in onze groep is het vrij nerveus fietsen. Na een uurtje komen we in een verwarrende situatie met tegenliggers terecht. Vrij snel blijkt dat niet zij, maar wel wij fout bezig zijn. De typische menselijke kuddementaliteit heeft ervoor gezorgd dat we en groupe een afslag hebben gemist, met als direct gevolg 20 extra kilometers op de teller. Wanneer we vijf kilometer verder daarenboven nog eens lek rijden is de rust in het hoofd zoek. We leggen de eerste etappe in het donker verder vrij onwennig af en bereiken behoorlijk over onze toeren na 140km om 4u des nachts de eerste bevoorradingsplaats in Mortagne. Hoog tijd voor een worstenbroodje. Etappe 2: Mortagne-au-Perche - Villaines-la-Juhel, 81,5km Het regent stront met haakskes en de volgende etappe wordt pas na drie valse starten ingezet. In een WK ben je dan al lang gediskwalificeerd en dat vinden we op dat moment helemaal niet erg. De moral is ver zoek. Gelukkig ontmoeten we in de wachtzaal enkele Belgische randonneurs. Ze laten zich duidelijk minder snel uit het lood slaan door de spreekwoordelijke oude wijven waardoor het vanzelfsprekend wordt verder te fietsen. Dankzij de nachtelijke tactische bespreking komen we tot het inzicht dat we van controle tot controle moeten fietsen zonder te kijken naar de totale afstand. We duiken opnieuw de vochtige nacht in. Als het water echt uit onze schoenen zeikt zorgt Flip Kowlier voor enig soelaas: Kom moa bin en zet u nere vint Ge zit ol hjil de nacht ip tsjool Ti niet te doen in da slecht were vint Ge kunt oljinne mor verdwoln Aan de lange nacht blijkt uiteindelijk toch een einde te komen. De dag ziet er veelbelovend grijs uit. Een verse croissant bij de bakker zorgt voor een knapperig ochtendgevoel waarna we in Villaines onze eerste officiële stempel ophalen. Etappe 3: Villaines-la-Juhel - Fougères, 88km In etappe 3 scholen we ons om tot echte randonneurs. Het snellere tempo en de bijhorende vele stops worden ingeruild voor een meer gematigd voortbewegen dat we lange tijd kunnen aanhouden. De cadans van een tandem blijkt niettemin niet helemaal gelijk te lopen met die van de racefietsen. Dalen gaat snel, klimmen verloopt stukken moeizamer. In Fougères nuttigen we met ons tweetjes drie lasagnes en onze eerste cola’s. De prijzen zijn bijzonder democratisch. Etappe 4: Fougères - Tinténiac, 54km De volgende 54 km denken wij in minder dan twee uur te kunnen afhandelen, maar onze rekenmachine is duidelijk nog niet afgestemd op de Bretoense omgeving. Het parcours heeft duidelijk meer weg van Luik-Bastenaken-Luik dan Gent-Wevelgem en helaas bleek eerder op het seizoen net die laatste onze specialiteit per tandem te zijn. Voor de volledigheid: beste lezer, de hemelsluizen staan nog steeds open. Etappe 5: Tinténiac - Loudéac, 85km

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De laatste etappe van het etmaal. In kleine pelotonnetjes verplaatst de meute zich verder richting Brest. Het wordt donker, het druppelt zachtjes. Als 10km voor Loudéac de vrienden van Duinkerke weer op kop komen besluiten we voor de aanval te kiezen. Ze zullen ons geen twee keer liggen hebben (zie verslag voorbereiding PBP). Na het ophalen van de obligatoire stempel trekken we opnieuw de nacht in en de heuvel op naar onze chambre d’hôtes. Zeven extra kilometers, daar gaan we op een dagtotaal van 475km ook niet moeilijk over doen. Een warme douche en dito bed lonken. Etappe 6: Loudéac - Carhaix, 75km Na een uitgebreid ontbijt bevinden we ons om 4u45 terug op het officiële parcours. Er staan 330km op de dagplanning; na de monsterrit van gisteren zullen we dit varkentje wel eens snel en efficiënt wassen. Op de eerste helling wordt de voorderailleur wat getuned. Zo kunnen we voortaan ook gebruik maken van ons binnenblad, een klein gebaar dat onze knieën ten zeerste weten te appreciëren. Na 35km wordt op een geheime controle de eerste slaapaanval met een stevige geut koffie tenietgedaan. Bij het krieken van de dag is het zowaar droog. Vrolijk keuvelend in internationaal gezelschap bereiken we de volgende controlepost. Etappe 7: Carhaix - Brest, 88,5km Vanaf Carhaix is het terug gezellig toeven in het gezelschap van de Belgische randonneurs. Het weer wordt zowaar nog enthousiaster, bijgevolg spelen we mouw- en beenstukken een eerste keer uit. Dit zal later een uniek manoeuvre blijken te zijn. Op een aflopend stuk nemen we het peloton nog eens op sleeptouw. Helaas krijgen we vrij snel een nieuwe slepende helling gepresenteerd: 10km aan 4%, meer moet dat niet zijn voor een tandem en zijn berijders. Nadat we het hoogste punt van Bretagne overwonnen hebben, gaat het in sneltreinvaart richting Brest. We traverseren een fotogenieke brug en bereiken het keerpunt van onze trip: 613km gereden, 613km te gaan, het wordt zowaar overzichtelijk. Tijdens de controle blijkt dat het vooropgestelde tijdschema wederom te ambitieus is opgesteld. Maar niet getreurd, de zon is nog steeds van de partij. Etappe 8: Brest - Carhaix, 85km Met een volle maag en hernieuwde energie vertrekken we oostwaarts. Samen met ons is ook de wind gedraaid, nog steeds 4/5 op kop, een mooi gebaar van pacha mama. Het kan ons echter niet deren, we vestigden met 79km/u een nieuw snelheidsrecord. In het pittoreske Sizun nuttigen we, op aanraden van een collega-tandem, een kilootje pannenkoeken. Wij luisteren vol bewondering naar hun plannen om de rest van de tocht in één vlotte beweging (lees: zonder slapen) af te handelen. We hebben ze daarna op elke controle teruggezien! PBP en ambitieuze plannen, een moeilijke combinatie. Waar we in de voormiddag als heenrijder nog gekruist worden door terugkomers, zijn de rollen ondertussen omgedraaid. Een opkikker voor de moral. De tandem heeft er ondertussen 650 feilloze kilometers op zitten. Hoog tijd voor een technisch euvel: een geblokkeerde ketting tussen het kleinste en het middenste tandwiel. Enkele gesmoorde vloeken en een paar vuile handen verder kunnen we terug op weg. Net voor Carhaix kruisen we de rode lantaarn, dat hij van Japan komt mag geen toeval zijn. (...) Etappe 9: Carhaix - Loudéac, 75km De avondetappe. Het vooropgestelde tijdschema wordt nog maar eens serieus bijgesteld: geen 15 maar uiteindelijk 20 uur zullen nodig zijn om de 330km af te werken. Tine pinkt er zowaar een traantje bij weg.

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Nadat het licht gedoofd wordt, peddelen we rustig verder. Als echte randonneurs lassen we om 23u nog een pauze in, we drinken een kom soep en eten een hot dog, ons aangeboden door alweer een sympathiek stel vrijwilligers. Na de maaltijd vinden ze het hierboven hoog tijd om de kraan nog eens helemaal open te draaien. Doorweekt bereiken we om 1u30 Loudéac, één van de dorpen die we nooit bij daglicht hebben gezien. De eerste kennismaking met de dortoirs bevalt maar matig: een ijskoude loods met 300 veldbedden en natte dekens. Ook een knisperend reddingsdekentje brengt geen soelaas. Tine pinkt er zowaar nog een traantje bij weg en Wim overweegt op dat ogenblik zelfs om zijn extra verkregen verlofdagen terug in te ruilen voor gewone werkdagen. Etappe 10: Loudéac - Tinténiac, 85km To quit is not an option: om 3u gaat Wim op zoek naar een douche. Lauw water en wat servetten om zich af te drogen, de dag is goed begonnen. Als troost doen we onszelf twee paar witte adidaskousen cadeau en verorberen we om 4u ’s morgens worst met puree, gelukkig in een verwarmde refter. 4u30, opnieuw vertrekkensklaar. Voor de volledigheid: beste lezer, de emmers worden nog steeds uit de hemel gegooid. Na anderhalf uur worden we getrakteerd op vers daglicht en een geheime controle. Wim neemt er voor de eerste keer een power nap, 15 minuten in dromenland. Uitgeslapen en opgewekt stapt hij terug op de fiets. Etappe 11: Tinténiac - Fougères, 54km De lucht is weer dreigend grijs en het thuisfront wordt ingeschakeld om erger te voorkomen. Het supportteam is bereid tot offers en we ontvangen volgend hoopgevend bericht: ik hak nog een handje af bij de groten om jullie te dienen. En hup! In Fougères is het andermaal tijd voor een warme maaltijd. IJverige bomma’s berekenen in het restaurant de prijzen op ambachtelijke wijze. Etappe 12: Fougères - Villaines-la-Juhel 88,5km Het smukt zachtjes, we fietsen verder. Tijd voor een blik op de mederandonneur! Over rijtuigen durven de meningen nog al eens te verschillen, maar over twee zaken lijkt iedereen het eens te zijn: een Brooks-zadel en Assos-broek zijn onontbeerlijk om vervozing van de onderdelen die de man in zijn man-zijn bepalen, tegen te gaan. Voorts dringt een tweede power nap zich op. Dit keer doet de graskant diens als matras. Etappe 13: Villaines-la-Juhel - Mortagne-au-Perche, 81,5km Na een gesmaakte spaghetti in een dynamische controlepost (elk oponthoud betekent immers minder slaap) zetten we koers richting Mortagne en een laatste slaapplaats. De wegen richting Parijs worden in het donker opgeschrikt door honderden fluovestjes, voor- en achterlichtjes. Hier geen loos gebabbel meer, maar een stil gevecht met de eigen gedachten. Etape 14: Mortagne-au-Perche - Dreux, 74km Behoorlijk leeg bereiken we Mortagne. De benen worden moe, we stinken als de pest, de moral is top. Gelukkig geen vriestemperaturen in het dortoir, maar na 2u kunnen we nog niet echt van een uitgeslapen gevoel spreken. Soit, nog 140km, de Van Petegem classic hebben we een tiental keer als training afgewerkt. Wim moet de laatste etappe helmloos afleggen. Een foute wissel, het gebeurt in de beste kraamklinieken. Onderweg zien we ze meer en meer, alle schaamte voorbij, de mannen, de mannen op zoek in hun broek. Waar zit hij, hoe voelt hij en vooral, komt hij nog terug? Een laatste croissant in de bakker, een laatste koffie in een bar tabac, we zijn zowaar afscheid aan het nemen. O ja, en nog een laatste power nap. Ook bushokjes blijken zeer geschikt. Etape 15: Dreux - Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines, 66km

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Om 13u03 bereiken we de finish, 1288km in 88u, we hebben een cola gewonnen! Ook op deze laatste etappe worden we onderweg nog luid aangemoedigd door enthousiaste toeschouwers. De PBP-traditie leeft! PBP 2011? No! No! No! Absolutely no way ever! Don't even think it! No! I'm not doing it! Hmmmmmm..... Wim en Tine Met dank aan Maurice, Luc, Etienne en Micheline en de andere Belgische randonneurs. Het zit er weer eens op voor 4 jaar. PBP anno 2007 is voorbij. Je kan gerust stellen dat hij de geschiedenisboeken zal halen. Alleen al de weersomstandigheden hebben bepaald wat het uiteindelijk is geworden. Regen en nog eens regen (met bakken). Het regende opgaven reeds voor Brest. Deels door de weersomstandigheden maar ook door het te snel starten. We zagen ze liggen in de kant, met een overlevingsdekentje over zich. Wat ons betreft, Marclevelo , De Nijs Daniel (Wambeek) , beiden voor de eerste maal en mezelf voor de derde maal kunnen terugblikken op een mooie PBP. Zonder te forceren, steeds onze tijd genomen voor wat te eten en te drinken en bij een strak tempo komen we uit tussen de 74 en 78 uit Slapen deden we in Loudeac en Tinténiac, zij het op de laatste plaats op 4 bij mekaar geschoven banken, bij gebrek aan slaapgelegenheid in de slaapzaal. Onderweg kom ik Jefke 06 tegen, gaf nog blijk van frisheid. Ook mijn schoonboer (nam deel voor de 6° maal) kom ik een paar maal tegen samen met zijn kompaan uit Aalter. Zij zullen nog eens overnachten in Dreux. En dan de sympathisanten, ze staan langs de weg met koffie, thee, koeken enz… gratis!!!!!! Ze moedigen ons stuk voor stuk aan, dat is PBP op zijn mooiste. Je komt onderweg met allerhande nationaliteiten in contact. Het waren er 39 in totaal. Russen, Amerikanen, Zuid-Afrikanen, Japanesen, Argentijnen, Bulgaren, noem maar op. Soms houden we een praatje in het Frans, Duits of Engels. In de controleposten is er alles voor handen, van warme tot koude maaltijden. Gelukkig was de neef van mijn vrouw mee met zijn mobilehome. Hier konden we terecht voor een extra warme kop koffie of wisselen van onze kledij. Op iets meer dan 220 km van het einde beslis ik om alleen door te gaan, na overleg. Als alles meezit ben ik al gewassen en staat de wagen klaar om alles in te laden tegen als de andere aankomen. En het lukt me. Er haalt me zelfs niemand meer in, blijkbaar heb ik goed getimed. Zo dit is een "klein" verhaal over een "grote" tocht vol met verrassingen. Eén zaak staat vast, als ik gezond blijf ben ik er in 2011 terug bij.

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Parijs – Brest – Parijs 2007 Het verhaal van Patrick na zijn eerste Parijs Brest Parijs. De voorbereiding op deze tocht begon al vorig jaar. Ik nam toen deel aan een tocht van 200 km en één van 400km. Tijdens deze tochten leerde ik een aantal mensen van randonneurs.be kennen en heb ik ook mijn spitsbroeder Jan Tax kunnen overtuigen om samen met mij deel te nemen aan Parijs – Brest – Parijs. Tijdens de winter werd dan gestart met de echte opbouw van de training door maandelijks minstens 1000 km te fietsen, waaronder heel wat mountainbike tochten. Vanaf januari werden de trainingskilometers verder opgedreven tot soms 2500 km per maand. Op die manier had ik in 2007 al 13000 km getraind, waaronder een vijftal tochten van meer dan 400 km en één van 700 km. Vooral het fietsen tijdens de nacht kreeg hierbij extra aandacht, want dit is niet vanzelfsprekend. Ook hier merkte ik al dat het soms heel moeilijk was om gewoon wakker te blijven, en dat het inderdaad mogelijk is,zoals de ervaren randonneurs ons vertelden, om tijdens het fietsen in slaap te vallen wat ik voordien gewoon niet kon geloven. Op zaterdag 18 augustus is het dan eindelijk zover, met een volgeladen camionette rijden we richting Parijs. De autorit verloopt vlekkeloos, en tijdens de rit speculeren we nog volop over onze tijd die we gaan nodig hebben voor onze tocht, en hoe we de tocht best aanpakken. De eerste nacht in ons hotel komt er van slapen maar weinig in huis, en tijdens de weinige uurtjes dat ik wel slaap heb ik PBP nog minstens een tweetal keer gereden. Zondagmorgen vernemen we dat de fietscontrole niet kan doorgaan daar de organisatie nog veel werk heeft, dankzij de felle regenbuien van deze nacht, met het parcours terug berijdbaar te maken. In de voormiddag arriveren nu ook de andere leden van de Belgische delegatie. Het is een fijn weerzien met de vele vrienden die we tijdens de voorbereidingstochten hebben leren kennen. Er wordt druk bijgepraat. Om 13 uur vertrekken we met de Belgische delegatie naar het elf kilometer verder gelegen St-Quentin en Yvelines om daar ons startbewijs in ontvangst te nemen. In de grote sporthal kijken we onze ogen uit als we de verschillende delegaties van over de hele wereld zien. Parijs – Brest - Parijs is echt wel een mondiaal gebeuren zoals uit onderstaand overzicht blijkt.. Ook vandaag gaan we weer tijdig slapen, want morgen is het eindelijk de grote dag, maar nu komt er nog minder van in huis. De maandag duurt eindeloos lang, en we zijn dan ook heel blij om kort na de middag Jos en Marc (respectievelijk mijn vader en schoonbroer) te mogen verwelkomen. Zij zullen ons tijdens de tocht volgen met de wagen en ons op de verschillende controleposten bevoorraden. Na een stevig middagmaal wordt alles klaargemaakt, we nemen afscheid van de volgers en vertrekken rond 16 uur met de fiets naar St-Quentin en Yvelines waar we eerst nog van een maaltijd willen genieten om dan ons richting start te begeven. Als we aan de startplaats toekomen worden we opgeschrikt door een luide knal. Het blijkt mijn voorwiel te zijn, waarvan de velg wegens slijtage volledig is afgescheurd. Daar sta ik dan, een heel jaar naar deze tocht toegeleefd en alles dreigt nu al in duigen te vallen. We nemen telefonisch contact op met onze volgers of het mogelijk is om terug te keren en mij een nieuw voorwiel te geven. Na een drie kwartier wachten aan de start en ondertussen veel bekijks hebbend, zie ik tot mijn grote blijdschap de volgers arriveren en kan ik alsnog starten. Rond 17u30 staan we aan de start en is het wachten tot acht uur voor we van start gaan. Saint Quentin en Eyelines - Mortagne aux Perche (km 140) dinsdag 00u45

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20 uur, we starten onder luid applaus en het lijkt wel of we in een kermiskoers van start gaan. We fietsen regelmatig tegen meer dan 40km/h. De eerste controlepost na 140 bereiken we om kwart voor één. We zijn nog met 4 samen, mijn kompaan Jan Tax en Ludo van Humbeek (Kessel) en Jan Blockx (Kasterlee) en ikzelf. We hebben nog meer dan 30km/ h gemiddeld op onze teller ondanks het zware parcours, dat we toch wel hebben onderschat. Mortagne aux Perche – Villaines La Juhel (km 222) dinsdag 04u09 We fietsen met een groep van 25 fietsers verder. Het tempo blijft nog steeds (te) hoog. Villaines La Juhel – Fougeres (km 307) dinsdag 07u45 De snelle start eist zijn tol, en ik moet mijn metgezellen in de vele beklimmingen laten rijden. Jan blijft bij mij ook al zeg ik hem dat hij gerust zijn eigen tempo mag fietsen. Niets van, “Samen uit, samen thuis” blijft hij steeds zeggen. De korte rustpauze en de heerlijke boterhammen met kaas zijn meer dan welkom. Na de rustpauze fietsen ook Ludo en Jan Blockx terug met ons verder. Fougeres – Tinteniac (km 364.5) dinsdag 10u15 Ik kom de kleine inzinking goed terug door, en samen met mijn kompanen fietsen we verder. We doen om beurten ons deel van het kopwerk en proberen ook de fietsers die mee aanpikken aan de kop te krijgen. Dit is echter niet vanzelfsprekend want iedereen wil blijkbaar zijn krachten zoveel mogelijk sparen wat ook wel nodig is wegens het bar slechte weer. Ludo, een ervaren rat, dwingt ook de anderen, door af een toe een gaatje te laten vallen, mee aan de kop en maant ons aan om het kalm aan te doen. Tinteniac – Loudeac (km 449.5) dinsdag 14u01 Weinig nieuws te melden. Het regent nog steeds, en er staat een strakke westenwind (wind op kop) . We fietsen nog steeds met 4 belgen samen. Loudeac – Carhaix-Plouger (km 525) dinsdag 17u36 Ik voel me heel goed, en het kost me moeite om me kalm te houden en niet te veel kopwerk voor mijn rekening te nemen. Toch maar rustig blijven want de aanhoudende regen en (tegen)wind zullen straks nog hun tol eisen vrees ik. We bereiken met vier Carhaix-Plouger. Onze volgers zullen hier blijven wachten tot wij terugkeren uit Brest zodat ze een keertje uitgebreid kunnen slapen. We nemen rustig onze tijd om droge kledij aan te doen want we gaan seffens onze tweede nacht in. Het is ondertussen eindelijk even opgehouden met regenen. Carhaix-Plouger – Brest (km 614.5) dinsdag 22u08 We gaan van start voor een rondje van 170 km met hellingen die in onze Ardennen niet zouden misstaan. We fietsen nog steeds met vier samen (Jan, Jan, Ludo en ikzelf) en we voelen ons nog vrij fris. Er is nog steeds tijd voor grapjes en er worden foto’s genomen vanop de fiets. Na een dertigtal kilometer komen we het eerste groepje tegen dat reeds in Brest is gekeerd. Zij hebben nu al een 80 km voorsprong op ons. Even verder worden we door de organisatoren aan de kant geroepen. Het blijkt om een controle van de fietsverlichting te gaan. Gelukkig is onze verlichting nog steeds in orde. Net voor Brest rijd ik lek achteraan. Bij Jan Tax gaat het nu wat minder. Zijn knie doet pijn! In Brest nemen we de tijd om een broodje te eten. Het smaakt naar nog!

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Brest – Carhaix-Plouger (km 690) woensdag 3u14 Met Jan gaat het nog steeds wat minder, zijn knie blijft opspelen. Ikzelf krijg nu ook een dipje. Ik heb de grootste moeite van de wereld om wakker te blijven. Alles speelt zich een beetje af als in een film. Ik ben er niet meer echt bij. We halen nu een Fransman in. Hij heeft meer dan één rijvak nodig. Hij pikt bij ons aan en begint te fluiten. Steeds opnieuw hetzelfde deuntje. Na een tijdje hebben we door dat dit zijn manier is om de slaap te verdrijven. Ik heb steeds meer moeite om mijn kompanen te volgen, en vooral de afdalingen lukken me niet echt meer. Ik kan me gewoonweg niet meer concentreren. We sukkelen samen verder tot in Carhaix. Ludo en Jan Blockx blijven ons trouw opwachten. Carhaix-Plouger – Loudeac (km 773) woensdag 8u05 We beslissen om ons groepje in twee te delen. Jan Blockx en Ludo Van Humbeeck gaan te snel voor mij, met Jan Tax gaat het terug beter maar hij besluit om bij mij te blijven. We hebben heel de voorbereiding samen gedaan, en we gaan ook dit samen afwerken blijft hij maar steeds herhalen. Met mij gaat het nu van kwaad naar erger. Ik kan echt niet meer wakker blijven, en heb alle moeite van de wereld om gewoon op de weg te blijven. Ook Jan krijgt nu problemen met wakker blijven. We besluiten dat het hoog tijd wordt om een plekje te zoeken waar we even kunnen rusten (lees slapen). Maar met de regenbui waarin we nu weeral enkele uurtjes fietsen is dit niet vanzelfsprekend. We fietsen dus verder terwijl we blijven uitkijken naar een rustplaats. We fietsen langs rustige boswegen, terwijl de nog oprijdende fietsers ons verder blijven passeren. Hun verlichting maakt het nog moeilijker. Langs beide zijden van de weg is een gracht, en we hebben beiden veel schrik dat één van ons hierin zal belanden. Plots hoor ik geroep, “Hey Patrick, pas op!!!!” , ik schrik en vraag aan Jan wat er is. Volgens hem reed ik recht naar de gracht, en draaide ik nog net op tijd weg. We zien een huisje en vragen of we even op het terras tegen de muur mogen zitten. De eigenaar vind dit onverantwoord wegens het slechte weer, en neemt ons mee naar zijn schuur. We krijgen een oude zetel en een stoel aangereikt en hij maant ons aan om stil te zijn. Nadat onze ogen aan het duister gewend zijn merken we dat hier nog twee fietsers op een matras liggen te slapen. Door ons lawaai worden zij wakker, en maken ze plaats voor ons. We leggen ons op de oude stinkende matras en de kussens en na onze wekker op 20 min gezet te hebben vallen we in een diepe slaap. Na een tiental minuten schrik ik op uit mijn slaap door iets dat aan mijn lichaam zit te snuffelen. Het blijkt de Duitse Herder van de eigenaar te zijn. Ik val vrij snel terug in een diepe slaap. Na nog eens tien minuten gaat de wekker. We maken ons klaar en willen terug vertrekken, maar de man des huizes roept ons terug. Of we geen koffie of frisdrank willen. Na een heerlijke kop koffie en een babbel fietsen we verder naar Loudeac. Dit hazenslaapje heeft ons meer dan deugd gedaan. In Loudeac blijken we een half uur verloren te hebben ten opzichte van onze kompanen. Loudeac – Tinteac (km858) woensdag 12u24 Na een snelle hap gaan we terug op weg. We hoopten op wind in de rug, maar de wind is meer naar het noorden gedraaid zodat we de wind weer schuin vooraan hebben. Van een tegenvaller gesproken. Met mij gaat het terug heel goed en we rijden om beurt een stukje op kop. Jan krijgt weer last van zijn knie! Als we in Tinteac aan komen zien we Ludo uitgeteld in de bus liggen slapen. We ontmoeten ook Fons Van Den Branden (ex beroepsrenner) en een monument voor de lange-afstandfietsers, die Parijs brest reeds 9 maal heeft gefietst en nu wegens problemen met de gezondheid niet meer kan deelnemen. Zijn besttijd was 47 uur!!!!!! Maar zulke zware omstandigheden heeft hij in geen enkele van zijn negen deelnames meegemaakt aldus Fons!

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Tinteac – Fougeres (km 912) woensdag 16u40 We rijden met drie verder. Ludo heeft het nog moeilijk en blijft de eerste 30 km in de wielen. Jan en ikzelf blijven goed ronddraaien. Na een dertigtal km doet Ludo ook terug mee. Ik voel dat ik het weer moeilijk krijg om wakker te blijven, en ook Jan en Ludo merken dat ik niet meer mooi op mijn lijn blijf. We stoppen bij een garage en ik vraag water om me op te frissen. Nu gaat het terug even beter, maar even verder gaat het licht pas echt goed uit. Op een vijftal kilometer voor de controle van Fougeres gaat het echt niet meer. Jan neemt me mee binnen in een plaatselijk cafe. (Het volgende heb ik van horen zeggen, want dit is echt een blinde vlek in mijn geheugen). Volgens Jan ga ik op een stoel zitten, val achterover met mijn hoofd tegen de muur in slaap. Hij probeert me wakker te krijgen, wat maar gedeeltelijk lukt en neemt me mee naar de toiletten waar hij me aanmaant om me op te frissen. Ik maak aanstalten om me uit te kleden, wat natuurlijk de bedoeling niet is. Ik weet nog dat ik denk dat ik thuis over Parijs-Brest-Parijs aan het dromen ben. Ik ben er geestelijk niet meer bij en sla wartaal uit. Ik ga naar het toilet en doe de deur op slot. Jan heeft schrik dat ik niet meer wakker word. Uiteindelijk krijgt Jan me toch overtuigd om verder te fietsen naar de controle. We sukkelen verder tot in Fougeres, waar men mij onmiddellijk naar de slaapvertrekken brengt en op de matten aldaar te slapen legt. Een vijftal uren later wordt ik wakker, en merk dat Ludo bezig is met rek- en strekoefeningen en dat Jan nog in een diepe slaap verkeerd. Ik voel me terug beter, we maken Jan wakker en genieten van een heerlijke maaltijd. Na nog een telefoontje met het thuisfront ben ik terug klaar voor de tocht. Mijn vrouw en broer melden me dat de mensen thuis, die door onze website op de hoogte worden gehouden van onze avonturen, enorm meeleven. Fougeres – Villaines-La-Juhel (km 1000.5) (donderdag 8u40) Om 22u 15 vertrekken we terug richting Parijs. Al na een twintigtal km blijkt dat ik toch nog onvoldoende heb geslapen, want ik kan onmogelijk wakker blijven. We sukkelen nog een beetje verder. Ludo en Jan doen al het mogelijke om me aan te moedigen en wakker te houden, maar het haalt niets uit. Plots sta ik stil in het midden van de rijbaan, en volgens mijn maten kijk ik strak voor me uit met een lege blik en blijf ik steeds herhalen dat ik moet slapen. Ze hebben hier wel begrip voor, maar op de plaats waar we ons nu bevinden, midden in de bossen, en in deze weersomstandigheden (het regent weer volop), is dit alles behalve vanzelfsprekend. Ik zie een beetje verder toch een huis staan waar nog licht brandt en zeg tegen Jan en Ludo dat ze mogen verder rijden, maar dat ik daar ga aankloppen voor een slaapplaats. Ludo en Jan willen me niet achterlaten. We kloppen aan, en na wat geaarzel doet er toch een man open. Als we vragen of hij geen plaats in zijn tuinhuisje heeft waar we kunnen slapen, aarzelt hij even, gaat terug binnen en roept er zijn vrouw bij. Na wat overleg worden we binnengeroepen. De mensen zijn heel bezorgd om ons. We krijgen koffie, en ondertussen wordt de salontafel opzij geschoven en dekens van de zolder gehaald. Zoveel vriendelijkheid is echt ontroerend. Ik val onmiddellijk in een hele diepe slaap. Mijn kompanen die nog niet echt moe zijn slapen niet veel, maar blijven rustig op mij wachten!!! Om vijf uur loopt de wekker af. Buiten regent het weer, en terwijl we ons klaarmaken passeren er meerdere groepjes fietsers. Om half zes gaan we terug op pad. Het gaat nog niet echt lekker met me, en ik voel me nog heel moe, maar ik kan toch wakker blijven. Jan blijft ook steeds met me praten, en kijkt regelmatig achterom om mijn blik te taxeren. Volgens hem kan hij aan mijn ogen vrij snel zien wanneer het niet meer gaat. We bereiken toch al snel de volgende controle. Onze volgers Marc en Jos zijn blij ons terug te zien. Villaines-La-Juhel – Mortagne-au-Perche (km 1085.5) donderdag 12u59

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Na een veertigtal km waarbij het voor mij nog steeds niet echt goed gaat, want de slaap blijft me parten spelen, besluit Ludo dat we best even stoppen voor een koffie. De koffie en croissant doet me deugd, en nadien gaat het weer veel beter. Jan en Ludo nemen het kopwerk voor hun rekening en ik rijd in hun wiel mee. We halen stilaan ook terug fietsers in. Dit geeft me weer veel moed. Ondertussen schijnt de zon, en we rijden in korte broek en trui met korte mouwen. Wat een luxe. De wind blijft wel schuin vooraan staan. Tegen de middag bereiken we de controle. We eten met zijn drieën een heel brood en een blok kaas op. Ik zie het nu terug helemaal zitten. Mortagne-au-Perche – Dreux (km1156.5) donderdag 16u30 Jan en Ludo (beiden 54 jaar oud !) zijn niet moe te krijgen. Ze blijven om beurt aan de kop sleuren en we halen menig fietser in. Een twintigtal km voor Dreux vind ik het welletjes en wil ik even overnemen van Jan. Ik krijg onmiddellijk van Jan en Ludo te horen dat ik me kalm moet houden en terug in het wiel moet. Ontroerend zoveel bezorgdheid van mijn kompanen. Ik zal dan ook nooit vergeten hoe zij voor mij gezorgd hebben tijdens deze tocht. Zonder hen had ik het wellicht niet tot een goed einde gebracht. Na precies drie uur bereiken we Dreux of 71.5 km met een gemiddelde van 25,6 km/h over een zwaar Ardennen terrein ,niet niks na meer dan 1000 km fietsen zou ik zo zeggen. Dreux – Saint Quentin-en-Yvelines. (km 1225) donderdag 19u44 Euforie neemt nu de plaats in van vermoeidheid. We doen nu om beurten kopwerk, en we vliegen terug naar Parijs. Op het vlakke halen we snelheden van 35km/h en meer. We halen nog meerdere groepjes in en zelfs de wolkbreuk waar we de laatste dertig km nog mee geconfronteerd worden deert ons echt niet meer. In de straten van St- Quentin-en-Yvelines lijkt het wel of we zitten in de finale van een wielerwedstrijd. We rijden met enkele Belgen, een Oostenrijker, Italiaan, een Chinees en…. richting aankomst. Zelfs de rode lichten worden in onze euforie genegeerd. Het is echt onverantwoord zoals we nu door het verkeer fietsen, maar gelukkig gebeuren er geen ongelukken. We bereiken ongedeerd het rond punt van Saint Quentin en het applaus van het aanwezige publiek doet meer dan deugd. We vragen onze laatste stempel in de grote sporthal en tijdens het telefoontje met Hilde wordt het me emotioneel allemaal een beetje veel! Ik pink een traantje weg. Terugblik Als ik terugkijk op deze tocht, die we als een sponsortocht voor Hartekinderen vzw.hebben gereden, dan ben ik toch heel blij dat ik hieraan heb mogen deelnemen. De solidariteit onder de deelnemers en hun volgers heeft me sterk geraakt. Een mooi voorbeeld hiervan was toen Jan Blockx, onze kameraad uit Kasterlee nadat hij was gearriveerd zich in de grote sporthal op de grond te slapen legde, in afwachting van onze aankomst. Nadat hij enkele uren later wakker werd, hadden omstaanders enkele handdoeken onder zijn hoofd geschoven als hoofdkussen. Ook Mark Van Rompaey uit Schilde maakte iets gelijkaardigs mee. Hij werd wakker met twee jassen over zich heen. Mensen wiens zoon ook nog onderweg was hadden Mark zien bibberen in zijn slaap en hadden hem ondergestopt met hun jas. Ook de vele aanmoedigingen onderweg misten hun uitwerking zeker niet. Nochtans zeiden de meer ervaren deelnemers dat dit nog niets was in vergelijking met andere jaren, wanneer het wel goed weer was tijden Parijs-Brest-Parijs. De zware weersomstandigheden eisten dit jaar ook hun tol van de andere deelnemers, want er zouden meer dan 2000 deelnemers opgegeven hebben. Andere jaren draait het aantal opgaven maar rond de 17 procent, tegen dit jaar rond de 40 procent. Dit maakt onze prestatie natuurlijk alleen maar groter! We hebben met onze tocht meer dan € 6250 ingezameld voor de vzw Hartekinderen. Meer dan 150 mensen hebben een bijdrage gestort waarvoor nogmaals hartelijk dank.

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Ook de steun van onze volgers, Mark en Jos zullen we niet snel vergeten. Op elke controle stonden ze trouw ons op te wachten. Op het thuisfront zorgde mijn broer Frank en tevens onze webmaster dat iedereen via de website onze avonturen kon volgen. Uit het gastenboek bleek achteraf dat heel veel mensen met ons hebben meegeleefd. De ontvangst thuis was er dan ook één uit de duizend. Vele vrienden en kennissen stonden ons met spandoeken en luid applaus op te wachten. Maar wat me toch het meeste is bijgebleven, is de onvoorwaardelijke solidariteit van Jan en Ludo, die zonder mij een veel mooiere tijd hadden kunnen realiseren, maar die het veel belangrijker vonden dat we met zijn allen de tocht tot een goed einde zouden brengen wat dan ook gelukt is. In vergelijking met de moeilijkheden die onze hartekinderen en hun ouders op hun levensweg nog kunnen tegenkomen, was deze tocht echter maar heel klein bier, maar wat ik hen wel van harte toewens, is dat ook zij op hun tocht , tijdens de moeilijke momenten, die hen zeker nog te wachten staan, ook steeds zullen kunnen rekenen op mensen als Jan en Ludo die hen onvoorwaardelijk zullen steunen. Want met een beetje hulp zijn ook zij tot heel grootse prestaties in staat. Met deze tocht hoop ik op mijn manier hen ook een hart onder de riem te hebben kunnen steken, en hen in de toekomst verder te kunnen steunen waar nodig.

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Paris-Brest-Paris 2007 du 20 au 24 août 2007 sans assistance, en 90h, raconté par Isabelle

Tandem piloté par mon mari, Jean-Philippe Battu (numéro 7014 - 3ème PBP) Récit par Isabelle Carrier (numéro 7013 1er PBP) Quelques chiffres • 5300 inscrits dont plus de 56% d'étrangers • 65 tandems • 42 nationalités • 49,7 ans Moyenne d'âge • • • •

6,6% des inscrits sont des femmes 15000 bénévoles Distance parcourue : 1230km Dénivelée : 10000 m environ

PBP, MOI ? JAMAIS ! Ce genre d'épreuve n'est pas pour moi: trop dure; ça ne m'intéresse pas; ce n'est pas ma manière de pratiquer le vélo. De cela, j'étais sure. J'ai eu l'occasion de le dire à mon entourage. Je n'envisageais pas du tout EN ATTENDANT LE JOUR J

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Nous avons laissé le tandem pour nos vélos solo afin de nous régaler de sorties en montagne (découverte du merveilleux Col du Sabot par exemple). Reprise du tandem seulement deux semaines avant PBP... Que c'est long d'attendre le PBP! Pendant ce temps, JP a fait réviser le tandem; il est comme neuf! VEILLE DU DEPART Dimache19 août: enfin! 07h00: Sur l'autoroute qui nous mène vers Paris, nous doublons Albert Marchetto et Robert Isoard. Arrêt sur une aire de repos, discussions. Ca y est, PBP commence, on goutte à l'ambiance. Devinez de quoi nous parlons? De la météo bien sûr. ________________________________________ 12h00: Toujours sur l'autoroute, nous pique-niquons sur une aire de repos. Cette fois, c'est un monsieur de Savoie (Jean-Paul Salvi) qui vient nous saluer. Lui aussi fait PBP. Pas de doute, on est sur la bonne route. JP m'avait dit sur la route du PBP, on n'est jamais seul. Eh bien cela commence même avant le PBP, sur l'autoroute!

L'après-midi, à Saint Quentin en Yvelines, nous retrouvons foule de connaissances et d'amis. L'occasion de saluer Marcelle et Jean Nicot, tous deux bénévoles. C'est avec Jean que j'ai fait la flèche Paris-Briançon et mon premier BRA. Jean est un exemple de régularité dans le pédalage. C'est un plaisir de rouler avec lui et de profiter de son expérience et de sa bonne humeur. Je pense que Marcelle et lui sont surpris de me voir sur un PBP. J'ai tellement dit que ça n'était pas pour moi ce truc là! Leurs messages d'encouragement en cours de route nous donneront encore un peu plus l'envie de réussir ce PBP. ________________________________________ Je reste zen à l'approche du départ. Je ne sais pas du tout comment ça va se passer pour moi, pour nous devrais-je dire. JP a déjà l'expérience du PBP. Il sait qu'il va avoir un gros coup de fatigue la nuit, peut-être même la première. Mais moi? Aucune idée! L'aventure! Vais-je pleurer, pester, être euphorique? Je ne sais pas! Alors, j'attends le départ et je me dis deux choses qui ne me quitteront pas durant tout ce PBP: • PBP, c'est 4 jours à pédaler et c'est tout, ensuite, c'est fini • As long as you keep turning the pedals, you are approaching the goal (lu dans l'éditorial de Tim Wainright de Arrivée, le journal de l'Audax UK). Le soir, nous dînons avec des amis diagonalistes. Une soirée animée où nous avons bien rigolé (sans oublier de manger quelques féculents) ________________________________________ LE JOUR DU DEPART Lundi 20 août A l'hôtel, nous discutons avec les voisins: deux italiens (Alessandro Schiavi et Eugenio Baresi) qui font leurs premiers PBP d'un côté, deux Isérois récidivistes de l'autre (Patrick Bonnardel et Jean-Paul Chambouleyron). Nous, au milieu en tandem (un récidiviste et une novice). On se prépare, on attend, on guette le ciel qui passe des nuages au soleil sans pluie. On garde l'espoir d'un départ au sec. Nous mangeons le midi, accompagnés de nos deux voisins italiens et de François Pulicari et Bernard Ducornetz, qui logent au même endroit que nous. ________________________________________

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Vient encore l'heure de manger. Dernier repas avant le départ. Une queue interminable. Le repas est adapté à ce qui nous attend; il y a du choix et les personnes qui nous servent sont sympas. Nous nous retrouvons à table avec des motards de l'ANEC et de la sécurité. Eux aussi font une épreuve d'endurance, même s'ils ne pédalent pas. Nous les verrons tout au long du parcours. Ambiance détendue. Près du point café, nous voyons passer pas mal de copains. Avant de quitter la salle, je retrouve Max, notre copine de Seattle qui était venue nous voir à Grenoble huit ans auparavant. Plus précisément, nous l'avions rencontrée le jour où nous avions commandé notre tandem... Et voilà Max, elle aussi sur le PBP en tandem avec un copain à elle, Peter. Retrouvailles, émotions... Nous nous dirigeons enfin vers le gymnase. Déjà , des vélos solo attendent pour le départ de 21h30... Traitement de faveur pour les tandems et autres vélos spéciaux, nous passons devant tout le monde pour le départ e 21h00. J'entends Allez Grenoble, allez JP. Où sont ces gens qui nous encouragent? Je ne les vois pas, trop de monde partout! Tout d'un coup, c'est Christian Dinet qui nous interpelle! Nous avions roulé ensemble pendant le 400km. Quelle agréable surprise de le revoir! Juste une poignée de mains et nous filons, pressés par les organisateurs pour nous rendre à notre point de départ. Nous sommes alors comme dans un cocon, loin de la foule, juste entre vélos spéciaux. Coup de tampon sur le carnet; moment symbolique.

________________________________________ Pendant ce temps là , à 20h00, le départ des 80h est donné. Parmi eux, Alain Schauber, Marie-France Lesné et Francis Swiderek. On discute ici et là et à nouveau, on attend! Nous nous approchons petit à petit du départ. Gérard Batoux et son épouse sont là pour nous encourager. Gérard prendra le départ demain à 5h. Lui aussi vient de Grenoble et a travaillé dans la même entreprise que JP. A côté d'eux, Geneviève (membre du CTG - Cyclo Touristes Grenoblois) et Josiane Brun (elles font l'assistance de Manfred Patzelt de SaintEgrève). Nous nous voyons régulièrement dans les rallyes autour de Grenoble. Josiane et Manfred ont organisé cette année avec leur club de Saint-Egrève le BRC (Brevet de Randonnée de Chartreuse) et Geneviève fait partie du club organisateur du BRA. Ces deux randonnées, très belles et très bien organisées, ont fait partie de notre entraînement. Des parcours en montagne, quel régal !

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Retour au présent. Pas de grands cols en perspective cette fois, mais une multitude de grimpettes, adaptées au tandem, à priori. Tiens, Sylvie Quemener et Laurent Jubin sont dans le public! Ils partiront à 5h demain matin mais sont quand même venus soutenir toutes les personnes qu'ils connaissent. Il y a 4 ans, à l'arrivée du PBP, j'ai attendu JP en leur compagnie. Je me souviens leur avoir dit que PBP, ce n'était pas pour moi. Aujourd'hui leurs encouragements me vont droit au coeur. Je sens à quel point ils sont heureux que nous partions à notre tour en tandem sur ce parcours. J'espère que nous ne les décevrons pas. ________________________________________ Quelques minutes avant le départ, JP met en place le rétroviseur qui lui reste dans les doigts ! Aïe... Est-ce un mauvais présage ? En tous les cas, bravo à JP qui fera tout le périple sans rétro et tout en étant à l'aise ! Etait-ce une ruse pour alléger le tandem ? ________________________________________ LE PERIPLE Nuit du lundi au mardi Enfin le départ! Que d'encouragements sur les premiers kilomètres! Rien que cela est formidable. Les gens nous souhaitent bonne route et je me plais à leur répondre à vendredi! La nuit, la campagne, on roule. Le brumisateur est en marche. Ce n'est pas gênant. Nous finirons tout de même par sortir le goretex. Nous retrouvons le tandem Morent de la Loire (connu au brevet de 200km). Dany et Michel sont Diagonalistes comme JP. On fait un brin de causette jusqu'à notre arrivée à Mortagne au Perche où nous sommes accueillis par Christian Van Den

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