Journal
The following is a diary of my trip. It was scrawled into a notebook - usually during my evening meals. I thought it best not to edit too much except for the more obvious fatigue or alcohol induced lies.
Le Havre to Montpellier
Friday 27 th May 2005. Chester to Portsmouth.
I weighed myself first thing this morning and the scales showed that I was 12 st 4 lbs. I've read that when on a cycling tour you simply can't eat too much, the body burns so many calories you will almost certainly loose weight. As a confirmed trencherman and lover of French food this is advice that I intend to take fully.
I Left Chester station on the 12.30 train and waved goodbye to Sue who was in tears on the platform. I was nearing hysteria as my mind buzzed with the trip's logistics. I changed trains at Newport South Wales and arrived in Portsmouth at 19.50, it would have been a very pleasant trip but. the train was packed with Friday afternoon commuters in 27c degree heat with no air conditioning.
I caught a taxi to the port and decided to re-assemble my bike there and then as it was far too heavy to carry any further. 30kg on a shoulder strap had left a huge bruise on my shoulder and hip. A young lad and his dad volunteered to help and hold things for me as I put the bike back together. I checked in and joined the surprisingly large queue of bikes. I chatted to four thirty-something lads from the Isle of Wight who where doing a charity ride to Paris along the Seine. Soon after I was forced into conversation by a well spoken chap on a rusty wreck of a bike whose riding attire was a striped business shirt and suit trousers teamed with a pair of Jesus sandals - he was utterly and completely barking mad. He told me he'd ridden the same bike over the Col du Galibier in the 70's, "You don't have a cabin for the night, do you?" he said. I lost him as swiftly as I could.
We boarded at 22.30 but to my surprise the ship had nothing to safely tie the bikes to, so we just had to leave them leaning against a bulkhead - I hoped the sea wouldn't be rough and the bikes get thrown about. I couldn't be bothered queuing for café food as the ship was packed - I hadn't realised it was half term. I got a take away pasty then went out on deck to eat it watching HMS Victory and Valiant slip past as we sailed out of Portsmouth harbour. Two pints of Stella later, shower, earplugs, and bed for 23.30.
On the ferry
Saturday 28 th . Le Havre to Brionne
47.9 miles 08:00 - 14:00. riding time 4:5hrs Avge 10.52mph.
Woke at 05.45 for breakfast at 06.00 .or perhaps not! There were huge queues, so I just had coffee and decided to stop at a caf é once on the road. We disembarked at 07.00 (08.00 French time). Unlike when leaving a ferry enclosed in a car my senses were immediately assaulted by all things French as I rode along out of Le Havre. The aroma of baking bread teased me from the boulangeries and the ' merde de chien' in the gutters reminded me to keep vigilant. I decided not to stop for breakfast until out of the town as I had been worried about navigating out of Le Havre but a large-scale street map helped me find the only bike-friendly road out of town - the D982.
The caf é to have breakfast at never materialised, every roadside café was shut, either boarded up and ' A Vendre' (for sale) or derelict. Breakfast had to be a couple of Alpen bars eaten at the observation area of the impressively high Pont de Tancarville - a huge suspension bridge crossing the river Seine.
I was soon back on the small roads, the D39 passed through the Marais Vernier which is a large low-lying marshy nature reserve crossed with drainage ditches. I must have surprised an otter, he immediately dived and swam away to hide from me but the water was so clear that I could follow his progress by the billowing cloud of silt in his wake. I stopped for a coffee at a Tabac-bar in Port Audemer and bought a phone card to use in public kiosks which will be much cheaper than using a mobile phone. I followed the D39 as it gently rose and fell along the banks of the Risle stopping again for a quiche and a beer in a bar at Pont Authou. I was way ahead of schedule.
An appalled local looked at my beer in disbelief and asked me "Was I was riding a bike?" I assured him I only had 5kms left to ride.
I reached my pre-booked hotel at the half-timbered Auberge le Vieux Donjon in the small town of Brionne much earlier than planned, 50 miles a day certainly seems easily do-able or perhaps I'm running on adrenalin today?
I was 'welcomed' and shown to my room by Madame . Some French hotels seem to have the most unfriendly cadaverous witches guarding the reception desk - this one was a fine example.
Showered and changed I had a brief stroll around the town's bars.
On my return I was shown into the auberge's cavernous restaurant - alone.
It soon began to fill though, first came an over-dressed lady with her yappy dog and husband (in that order) and then a group of about a dozen twenty -something blokes. They all immediately began biftering away, smoking for the republic. The hatchet-faced trout from the reception desk now became coquettish and girly as she fawned around the young blades and soon became all but invisible as they all disappeared into a fog of Marlboro Lights. Whatever happened to proper French fags like Gauloises and Disque Bleu ?
Replete with pâté , a mystery fish, cheese and dessert the long day is taking its toll on me, it's still early but I'm knackered. Maybe the wine and Calvados are taking their toll too. The lads are getting louder now, but are still much more civilised than their British counterparts would be after that much alcohol. They're sparking up cigars now.I'm off to bed.
Sunday 29 th Brionne to Anet
50.6 miles. 09:00 - 15:00 4:75 hrs riding time Ave 10.61mph. Total 98.5mls
I'm sure I was running on adrenalin yesterday so I thought that today perhaps my legs would start to ache a bit, but I feel fine.
After Saturday's blazing sunshine I was surprised to wake to a drizzly morning, the square opposite my hotel was bustling with people noisily setting up market stalls. I'd planned to take a photo of my picturesque hotel but it was a bit spoiled as it was surrounded by white vans.
I unchained my bike from an ancient oak pillar In the hotel's lean-to garage and noticed that overnight a pristine '60s Citroen DS had arrived - my favourite classic car.
I prepared myself for a wet day and climbed out of the valley on the D137 to Le Neubourg, it was there that I planned to take the Voie Verte (a disused railway line) to Evreux. The route proved to be a nightmare to find as it was so new there weren't any signposts to show where it started; it wasn't even on the map outside the (closed) tourist office. Eventually I found it and asked a couple of young boys of about 12 years of age if I was going the right way. They assured me that I was; they took great delight advising me of the correct pronunciation of Evreux, and then resumed smoking as hard-faced as you like.
A few miles on I had decided that I liked voies vertes , it was just like riding along a perfectly smooth tarmac'd bridle path, utterly tranquil with just the old level crossings over roads every few miles to remind you of civilisation. As I neared Evreux the tarmac ended and the trail left the old railway line changing to a loose wet gravel surface running downhill through woods that made the handling of a heavily laden bike running on slicks somewhat interesting.
I'll draw a veil over navigating out of Evreux. Good luck as much as map reading saw me only briefly on the busy N13 and then the quiet D67 through pleasant rolling countryside towards the Eure valley. By the time I reached the outskirts of Anet it was overcast but dry. Anet has a beautiful 16 th century renaissance chateau and 3 hotels. Unfortunately 2 of them were closed, as is most of France on a Sunday, the only open one was the 'Hotel-café du chateau ' a bar-tabac and PMU (a PMU is a sot of state controlled betting shop) which was full of furiously-smoking, horse, greyhound, and trotting punters.
I was lucky to secure a room as the whole place closed at 7 o'clock and like most of France would be closed on Monday too so breakfast wouldn't be available. Madame made sure that I paid in advance for my basic but very cheap room and I set about washing and drying out my kit.
Showered and changed I went downstairs to the bar for a beer, but as for food. " Desol é ,non ". I ended up walking in the pouring rain to the only open restaurant in the whole town which bizarrely was the café-grill of the Atac supermarket. One mediocre meal and a soaking saw me back here in my room writing this journal and I'll probably be in bed for 9 o'clock.
After today's hotel finding problems I asked Madame (very helpful and pleasant she was too!) to ring ahead and book my next hotel in Etampes for me, it's a bit expensive but as tonight's is so cheap finances will balance out in the end. An early night should give me a good early start tomorrow. I'll try to get some breakfast en-route. So, mp3 player and a book in bed as the rain lashes down outside.