Mike Nugent

Pedal to Paris 2006

On the 7^th September 2006 230 cyclists set out, from by General Wolfe’s statue, outside the Greenwich Observatory in London, to ride the 440km to L’Arc de Triomphe in Paris. This was a sponsored ride in aid of the Royal British Legion (RBL). It is hoped that in excess of £300,000 will have been raised.

Prior to the event starting I had been contacted by another rider, Calum, he was staying over night in Rickmansworth and I live in Watford. So I collected him in the early morning, 0500hrs, and we drove to Greenwich to book in. We were Poppybike virgins so knew no one there. As we had just met we didn’t even know each other. However a Police Sergeant (me) and an RAF Flight Sergeant (that’d be Calum then) are well versed in getting to know new people and we soon found that our sense of humour and attitudes were similar.

After coffee and croissants at the café we made our way to the top of the hill in Greenwich Park for a brief ceremony and publicity photo shoot. Luckily we had to walk up this hill, there are some steps, because it is horribly steep. With a blowing of whistles and a sounding of the horn we set off. Police escort, on motorbikes and mountain bikes guided us through London to Crittall’s corner. The pleasure involved in riding through London rush hour traffic with cars, trucks and buses held up by police while bikes ride through red lights and across roundabout is immeasurable. From there we made our way following signs put up by the RBL to our first stop at the RBL village at Aylesford. The RBL provided food, drink and importantly toilets. We set off again towards our next stop, which would be a Sellinge.

The whole route in England after Crittall’s corner was on open roads with normal traffic. This makes the day the least enjoyable of the four days but still good fun as we had great weather. The organisation by the RBL staff was exemplary. Riding through Kent is good, rolling countryside with plenty of ups and downs. I have been told that between London and Dover there is 1200 metres of climbing. Luckily not all in one go. As an inexperienced group rider my tendency was to ride alone at my own pace. Those more experienced at riding in groups found a group at their pace and stayed together.

At Sellinge a sign pointed us towards our lunch stop, unfortunately, as I was on my own at this point, I missed the sign. I mean, it was about 18 inches, by 24 inches, in bright yellow, with a big poppy on it and a big black arrow, it was easy to miss. I rode on for a short way then realised that I couldn’t see any riders in front of me. I looked at a street sign and saw I had passed Sellinge, so I turned around. I saw the back of the sign, and found my lunch. It only added 5km onto my ride, what’s that when the whole day was 129km?

After lunch we headed of again with just a short (comparatively) ride to Dover. It might have been short but it included the hill at Capel le Ferne. This is a steep climb, in 1.5km it climbs 168mts. The last bit is about 10%. It was hot on the climb, it seemed like the only part of the day where there was no wind at all. Trying to drink on a steep climb was hard so I stopped to take on fluids. I then realised I was going to have to get back on a very steep bit of climb and I was confident about hill starts. I didn’t know at the time but I was only a short way from the top. I decided that walking, when others were also walking was lower on the embarrassment scale than falling off trying to start would be. So I walked around 2 bends and there was the top. I was very disappointed that I didn’t make it all the way (but I will next year). A fast roll down into Dover and the day’s riding was mostly done. Just a couple of Ks in Calais and we were finished. Calum and I had made it in time to get the early ferry. In fact we were in Dover for 1415hrs having started at 0800hr.

In Calais we were amongst the lucky ones at the Holiday Inn. It meant a longer coach ride but was a very comfy stop over. Food, wine and a good sleep ready for morning.

Day 2 saw the start of what was to become Velo Club Les Souris de Danger. Calum had a room mate, Tim, who is a fireman (Station Officer). So another like mind. (I was scheduled to have a room mate but he was rushed to hospital just prior to the event with suspected appendicitis. So I had to have a room on my own for most nights. Every cloud has a silver lining) We also met up with John a company director, but he is a scouser so that was ok, another like mind. We also met Ian, an optician from Birkenhead, but is a scouser even if on the wrong side of the river. Poor Calum the Scot didn’t know what was going to hit him, in more ways than one, Day 2 also saw the start of the trials of the unluckiest rider on the ride, as voted for by the mechanics, from Sidcup Cycles. (Plug for Sidcup Cycles, great guys who will find a way to get you through.)

Calum went through a lot of wheels on this ride; his back wheel broke so the mechanics put a spare wheel in for him while they examined it. They found that the rim had split so he had to have a new wheel. (Kching – sound of the cash register and Calum is proud of his Scottish heritage) Shortly after getting the new wheel one of the French riders who had joined the ride shouted something including the word “Dangereuses”. (VC LSD is getting a push start) Calum stopped again and the mechanic pulled the wheel out and some spokes went ping. They replaced that with another new wheel. That’s 4 wheels in the back of his bike. No more problems with the rear but he did get a puncture in the front on the last day. Spare wheel, then repaired wheel back in. how many wheels do you need to get to Paris. The rest of VC LSD had no mechanical problems – Calum had all our bad luck.

The ride in France is organised into 3 groups. A Social Group (or slow but social sounds better), a fast group and a medium group. VC LSD was in the medium group. Although at this point we didn’t know we were VC LSD. A brief ceremony was held at the war memorial in Calais and at all the end stage towns en route, the French are very good at ceremonials and they were all very moving with veterans taking a prominent part. At 0900 the social group set off, then at 0945 the fast group. Followed at 1000 by the medium group. That meant of course that after the social group left we had an hour to waste, and where better than in a French café drinking coffee? Well, any where actually, not that the café was a problem, but the coffee was. I had had 2 cups of coffee with breakfast and then another while waiting – and coffee is a diuretic. I had a pee just before leaving. Then a short way down the road thought “I need another”. However by this time we were trolling along with nowhere to stop. Then we started up the long hill at Guines. This is a hill of several kilometres, not steep, but steady and long. At the top there was a bus stop which provided several of the male riders with a welcome relief. Equal opportunities is all very well but some things are just better for men and that’s all there is to it.

Each day had about 1hr – 1hr30 of riding then a stop for drinks and to refill bottles. Then ride again to lunch. Lunch stops were well organised with plenty of food and drink, including wine. If you intend riding the second half of the day with any sort of competence the advice has to be approach the wine with caution. The motorcycle outriders had a pleasant time at lunch every day and thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

After lunch the roll across the northern plain towards Abbeville. Someone said to me “I thought northern France was flat?” I said “It is it’s just that end a bit higher than this.” Everyone thinks of northern France as flat, but it isn’t, it rolls up and down across the valleys where rivers are running to the sea. We were crossing all those valleys. I was having a great day, I was determined to make up for my disappointment at walking on the hill into Dover and so rode every hill with a passion. My legs felt great, much better than the day before. I was pounding up the hills, and weighing in at 93kg that’s some pounding. Just prior to the final stop of the day, where we would all get together in one group to ride into Abbeville, there was a gentle climb and then a long open flat across the top. I’d pushed hard to the top and then got down on the drops and pushed hard again across the flat. I had expected others to be with me and to take a turn in front but no one came through. I glanced at my speedo at one point and it was showing 48kph. I’ve never gone that fast on the flat before, I just felt great. I caught up with the lead car and the group behind them and looked back, thinking someone was right behind me, but they weren’t. it was just one of those days when your legs feel good, your breathing is right and you have the fuel to go.

It was on one of the down hills as we all got back together behind the lead car that Dangermouse raised his head. Some of us were not used to the etiquette of riding in a group. One of the things you should do is to raise your hand and maybe shout “Slowing”, as the group slows down. This is so that people at the back get an early chance to brake rather than run into everyone in front. On one of these occasions Calum was just alongside John and I was just behind, as the shout went up Calum’s attention must have been elsewhere (possibly on how he was going to explain buying a new wheel to his wife). As the group slowed Calum said “Oh Shit” and braked hard. John said “Whoa it’s Dangermouse.” This caused much hilarity for John and I but maybe less for Calum. VC LSD took one more step closer to birth.

Saturday saw more of the same type of riding, rolling long hills, open plains over the Somme, valleys running across the route. The only thing that had gone wrong for me was a cold shower the night before. When 2 coach loads of cyclists turn up at a hotel a lot of hot water gets used. I made the mistake of answering some text messages before having my shower. Won’t do that again. Cold showers are very bracing and all that but not what you want after a day in the saddle. However the 5 of us were having a grand time. If there was a prize for the group that laughed the most we would have won it, hands down. By Saturday all of us were riding well. Calum had his confidence back after the wheel saga. I wasn’t as fast as Friday but still enjoying it. I had had my first massage at the start of Saturday’s ride. 3 sports therapist accompanied the RBL ride. They were Father, Son and Fiancée. A very blessed trio. I hadn’t bothered on Friday, but on Saturday morning I wanted something to do other than go for a coffee. I had learnt my lesson there. I learnt another one after the massage. It really works. Any stiffness went out of my legs and they felt ready to push again.

Off we went, motorcycle outriders stopping traffic at junctions, lead car showing us the way. Or not on a couple of occasions as they got lost twice. Once was ok but the second time was facing steeply downhill and we had to turn and go back up. Only short though so we forgave them. Traffic that was stopped by the outriders showed no impatience, they waved and even shouted “Allez”. Everyone seemed really pleased with what we were doing; even the man in a small village who looked out of his upstairs window to see what was happening and found about 60 cyclist having a quick break; including several having a “natural break” against what must have been his wall around an orchard.

Lunch on Saturday was at Poix de Picardie. The ladies of this small town had created mountains of baguette sandwiches, with cheese, ham and sausage. There were cakes, fruit, plenty of water and wine. They had excelled themselves and, like all of our stops, showed fantastic hospitality. I think they got the medaille d’or of the VC LSD. I found on the Saturday that I was looking forward to the hills in a way I hadn’t expected. We each rode up at our own pace. Tim normally to the front with Ian. However I did point out to Tim that as there was nothing to him he did have an unfair advantage. He just needs to carry an extra 30kg and he’d have to work as hard as me. As we rode along moving up and down the group we’d meet with others doing the ride; doctors, bankers, soldiers, probably sailors but I missed them. We might all have had different backgrounds but we were brought together by the common causes of cycling and supporting the Royal British Legion.

The stop in Beauvais was outstanding, a great reception at the fire station with Kir Royale, more food and water and more excellent hospitality.

Sunday was the shortest day and only the run before lunch was in our groups. We made the most of it and hammered the hills as best we could. At one point we were riding down the road towards a roundabout and could see a long hill rising up away from it in front of us. I was actually disappointed when at the roundabout we went right and not up the hill. Lunch was very brief and Calum was telling us about the weave of his front wheel as he came down the steep approach to the lunch stop. This gave rise to the VC LSD wave; right hand to the front palm to the left and a shimmy of the hand. As we were ready to leave Calum realised he had a puncture in the front. That’ll explain the shimmy then. A quick check at the mechanics van and they popped in a spare wheel so he could keep going. Later on at one of the brief stops they actually produced his wheel with a new inner tube, top work.

And so we rode off towards Paris in one big group. Because we were all together this gave us more time to talk together and the club was born. Several stops enroute ensured that we arrived at L’Arc de Triomphe at the right time. At this easy pace it was a time for joking and laughing. Maybe the biggest laugh of the week. That was when John said “I’m going to get a tow off Calum”. I of course assumed he was going to draft behind Calum. No, John rode up on his right and just back a bit. Calum was talking to Wayne who normally rode with the fast group. (He’s the only man I know who makes licra look baggy) John reached out with his left hand and took hold of Calum’s saddle pack. And stopped pedalling. He then braked gently. Calum changed down a gear and made a comment about how hard it was and something must be wrong. The rest of VC LSD was engulfed in laughter as was John when Calum finally turned and saw him.

The stops enroute gave an opportunity to ring my wife and daughter who were due to meet me. Others were also making last minute calls making sure loved ones were in place. An effort like this may not be on a par with climbing Everest but it was big for me and I was glad they were going to see me finish. The final ride down from La Defense gave spectacular views, even the Parisians who are infamous for being intolerant and possibly even rude were shouting  “Allez” and clapping. The organisation of that many cyclists through a city like Paris provides a spectacular sight. We were just rolling along and at that point although my legs and lungs were still fine, my bottom needed a rest. Then we approached L’Arc de Triomphe and any pain fled. The traffic was stopped as we rode around and the crowds clapped and cheered and then I saw my wife and daughter. We came to a halt and pulled the bikes off the road. More wine and food, great hugs, after the families had found the only way of crossing from the centre to where we were. They just all marched out into Paris traffic around L’Arc and stopped it. It was a magical moment amongst many magical moments.

The ceremony at L’Arc de Triomphe was very moving, with the cyclists all singing with gusto, even if we didn’t know all the words of Le Marseillaise. Of course just at the point where it all went quiet Calum’s voice rang out “Merci beaucoup Monsieur”. Gave John an I another chuckle.

Then the final ride, over the cobbles to the river and then up to Les Invalides. So many magical moments to end the ride that way was perfect. I might have had to ride those last 20 minutes standing but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. To spend 4 days making good friends, riding, laughing, eating and drinking, and all in a good cause. What could be better?

How about doing it again? See you in 2007