At 2pm on Sunday the 18 of August, four cyclists lined up at the start of a daunting 200 mile journey to Paris. There was large family gathering to see us off as we left one of Greenwich's many parks for a 64 mile cycle to Newhaven.
A nail-biting hour was spent navigating through the London’s traffic before our first site of a country road. We cycled directly through a school in the suburbs of London where we had the first accident. It wasn't a major accident, instead it was quite comical. James fell off his bike from a static position whilst trying to acquire phone signal to take us the next leg of the route. Luckily no injuries were sustained and even luckier it was caught in camera (as seen in the video.)
Shortly afterwards we encountered rain that became progressively heavier as we neared a major motorway. We were only crossing it, however it was now my turn to fall off my bike as the rain, the poor visibility and my unreliable breaks conspired against me to send me careering into the back of my Uncle. Nevertheless we picked ourselves up and after short rest continued on our journey.
The rain soon eased off and sun raised morale as we were finally clear of all hazards. This was the half-way point of the leg however there was time to relax as many hills were in front of us the sun was slowly disappearing. Seeing as our only lights were Imogen's back light, we had to place her at the back of the group and race against the sun to reach the ferry port. The incessant hills and baking sun depleted our water and we had to fill up from a friendly families' neighbours’ garden hose.
It was not long before we began frustrated and hungry. Although we were not lost, we had no food and the sun had almost set. We had no option but to continue onwards. In only a few more miles we reached Newhaven and the familiar blue of the Sherborne Prep minibus. In it were two worried mothers and food. Tears were shed as this was an extremely hard leg. Yet we all managed to stay determined to complete the full route. Especially Imogen who had not as much preparation as the others and still managed to keep pace up some very daunting climbs.
We welcomed fish and chips and burgers from a lady who refused to serve the rest of the customers at the ferry port's only restaurant whilst she was cooking our dinner.
Night fell almost immediately after we arrived and we welcomed the thought of a cabin with a shower and bed even though we were to be forced off the ferry at 4am the following morning. The thought was so strong, however, that we almost drove off leaving a startled border control officer with our passports.
We all had a nice sleep despite it only being four hours long and the tens of car alarms being set off a few decks below. We rolled of the ferry into Dieppe the same day that Canadian soldiers and British commandos had tried to liberate the town from the Nazis in 1942. This thought could not dwell on our minds as we tried to make use of a prep school minibus to bring as up to a respectable number of hours of sleep.
When the sun rose we hopped from boulangerie to boulangerie as they opened, the first one served only croissants and the second only baguettes. This still provided us with the energy we needed despite being put off by sewer works happening directly opposite to our breakfast table.
With our bellies full, we soon set off. This day didn't seem as daunting because the route was almost entirely flat allowing us to coast along l'avenue vert. We were only slightly fatigued as we arrived in the beautiful town of Les Eaux for some lunch. Sticking to French tradition there were no shops open except for the Carrefour. We made the best of things and had a car park picnic next to the school bus.
After readying ourselves once more, we headed for the small village of Fleury. We were not to staying the night there. In fact we were to stay the night in a hotel thirty miles earlier on in the route. However the unanimous decision was made that we should take advantage of the wind on our backs and the flat roads to really hammer the miles in. This didn’t make the experience of cycling past our hotel any easier though. Luckily this sight was replaced by a few lovely French villages we past. They were so nice that we took a break in one, unaware that we had set up right next to a French builder breaking up stone with a jackhammer. We were very aware of it after we had had a quick snack and took it easy on the last few miles coasting into Fleury.
80 miles we had cycled by the time we reached the nostalgic sight of the minibus. It was a bumpy ride back to the hotel for a long awaited nap and a delicious meal.
Refreshed and ready we made our way back to the same spot in Fleury where we could start our last leg into Paris. We were glad to have chopped miles off the mileage for that day as we mounted our bikes and re-discovered our sore bums and achy knees.
Our venue for lunch was Villenes-sur-Seine, roughly 20 miles from Paris. We desperately tried to charge our devices to ensure an easy route back. Alasdair took advantage of the sunny day to use a solar panel to charge his phone. However this did not prove efficient and we had to grit our teeth and roll into Paris on low battery.
It was only half an hour before we came across Poissy and the other suburbs of Paris. We chose to cycle through parks and avoid roads for nicest possible journey. A few final hills took us to park Saint Cloud where we gratefully received our first sight of Paris. There was then a downhill stretch where we caught the first glimpse the Eiffel tower. The sense of achievement had already begun to settle as we joined the many other cyclists cycling around the Hippodrome, a horse race track. It was here that we saw a roller skater keeping pace with a full speed Peloton. Another reminder we were in France.
It was then that we made our way onto the Bois de Boulogne where we were narrowing our crosshairs on the Eiffel Tower. The cobbled roads shook our bones and I thought of how lucky we were not to have had a puncture so far.
We then joined the thousands of tourists admiring the symbolic tower. We were welcomed with champagne and congratulations from the bus drivers and photos were taken commemorating the moment. It was then that I discovered that I did in fact have a puncture on my rear wheel.
With our last ounces of strength, we climbed the Sepulchre for a view of the Paris sun set twinned with cold bear and a sense of accomplishment.
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