PBP: Day 2 Saint Quentin e Yvelines to Carhaix

Up at 3 we sucked down the food we’d gotten the night before (yogurt, rice pudding, and hotel instant coffee) and stuffed our pockets with a few pastries. We were out the door just after 4 and joined the trickle of folks into the stadium. It was cold and misty but not yet actually raining. We were hoping that the weather forecast for rain in Paris late morning would hold and we’d be able to get away from it before it set in. Just before 5 they moved us out of the stadium and on to the road, passing through a quick bike check to ensure that we had lights. We then stopped, and were moved forward another 50 meters to await the start. Pre-start it was jovial, everyone wishing each other luck in languages they didn’t understand, but when the gun went off the chaos began in earnest.
750 of us headed out through the city streets in the darkness, led by a set of motorcycles. As we hit roundabouts shouts rang out about high curbs and medians. On the first gradual descent into a roundabout I heard the crunch of a bike and body hitting the ground just behind me as someone hit the plastic dividers between lanes. I could see Steve and Billy ahead and called out for Joe behind. All safe, we rolled on and the road opened up a little so we could move forward in the group to what we hoped would be faster and less sketchy riders.
The first several hours of darkness were a blur. We rode in a big group at a nice fast pace through suburban and then rural roads. We moved slowly forward and the pace lifted slightly. The light was slow to come as the sky was thick with clouds, but the dawn brought us smaller and faster groups. We found ourselves up close to the lead group riding at a nice tempo pace, ticking off the miles. Soon the rain came, first slow and misty, then down in full sheets. The pace slowed with the increase in rolling resistance on wet roads, but not the intensity. Billy and I dropped back to put jackets on and raced back up to Joe and Steve in the lead group. Just as we made contact, Steve flatted and we had to pull off in the pouring rain. We made a quick change but as he remounted the wheel it blew off with a pop. We quickly got another on and as Steve pumped it blew like a unshot and left a hole in his sidewall. Finally, we dug out a new tire and it held air, though we were ginger with the pump this time. As we all stood there shivering in the rain we watched much of the middle part of the field pass us in various sized groups that we then had to work through over the next few hours.
Cold and wet from the puncture, we stopped soon after for quick coffees and bread with butter as we’d all underestimated the food we’d need to make it to the first checkpoint at Mortagne au Perche. By the time we got to Mortagne, we were all worked from the pace and the rain. The rain had stopped, so we headed out with higher spirits and were able to pack away the raincoats. From Mortagne we had 40 miles of beautiful rollers to the first full Controle at Villaines la Juhel. The sun was out and the pace was solid, but I was struggling with body temperature and energy levels. By the time we made it to the control I had eaten all the emergency goo that I’d brought and twice dropped back in near full bonk. I’d relied too much on eating at the controles and hadn’t prepared enough food to eat on the bike. Though we ate at Mortagne, I’d burned through it too quickly and not had anything to keep going. Lesson learned I resolved to always have food in my pocket for the rest of the ride.
We got to the control at Mortagne (222 K) around 2 PM. It was a great controle, with big crowds of onlookers, a DJ, and an announcer calling out the riders coming in. We stopped for pasteries and coffee and loaded our pockets with ham sandwiches to make it down the road. From there we headed out through beautiful rolling countryside with high spirits. We quickly found some nice groups to ride with and met our best riding partners of the event. Jonathan and Isabel were Brits, living in Paris, that were doing the randoneuring thing this year on a lark but had lots of experience with racing cyclosportif throughout Europe and had lots of good stories to tell. Several miles into the ride with them I noticed a slow leak in my rear and we had to stop to change my tire.
The next stop was Fougeres at 310 K were we stopped for our first proper meal. The controle food left lots to be desired, but it was warm and filling and we ate lots of it. Jonathan and Isabel joined us for dinner (we’d somehow passed them on the road) and we decided that we’d ride together to the next control at Tinteniac, near where they had a hotel for the night. The addition of two to our group aided our progress and we made good time to Tinteniac as Steve and Jonathan drove the pace, chatting at the font. We made a quick control of it at Tinteniac and headed out around 9, just as the light was fading. Jonathan and Isabel pulled off at their hotel, 20 K or so down the road, and we pushed forward in the dark to Loudeac. The rain started on and off en route to Loudeac and we started passing lots of the 90 hour riders in the dark. In general, we rode through most of the groups, occasionally sitting in for a rest. We often attracted riders who would sit in for a time, but almost no one ever pulled through.
The rain had stopped when we got to Loudeac near midnight, but we were soaked and tired and cold and hungry. The scene when we arrived was not promising. There were bikes everywhere, 80 and 90 hour riders made this the stop of choice for the night. Inside the buildings the floor was littered with people sleeping, wrapped in space blankets in every spot out of the direct line of traffic. We each had bowls of soup and rice with gravy and took 20 minute naps at the table. Uncertain about staying the night there, with so many people and such chaos, we decided to get back on the road to the next control at Carhaix.
The ride into Carhaix was sketchy. We were all tired and cold and fighting sleep. We pacelined to keep from dosing off on the bike. We came into Carhaix at 6 like zombies. Exhausted we got dry clothes out of our packs and changed out of our wet clothes. To tired to eat, we found an out of the way place, under a conveyer belt that took trays from the cafeteria to the kitchen, and lay down for 2.5 hours. Sleep came easy, but was neither as long, or as restful as any of us would have liked.

PBP: Day 1- Saint Quentin-en-Yvelines

Jet lag had me up late, 10ish, on our transition day for PBP.  The morning was all about eating, hydrating, and bike prep.  We’d largely gotten things packed and organized last night and I spent the morning double and triple checking everything.  The weather was again not looking in our favor as passing showers rolled through town every few hours. As noon approached we made made a lunch of omelette and chicken soup as the rain poured down outside.
Despite the rain we had to head out at 1 in the drizzle.  Each of us was carrying our full kit for the ride, wearing out clothes for the return train ride, and we had two extra bags to drop forward with spare kits, extra food, tubes and tires. We rode across town in the rain to the Invalides train station for the RER out to the start.  There we started meeting other riders on the platform:  an Italian, and a group from Texas.  Out of the train in Saint Quentin at 3 the sun was out and the town was abuzz with bikes and riders of every persuasion.  What struck me was not the heavily laden, overweight randaneur types, but the many folks in full team kits on carbon race bikes with little more than a saddle bag and a spare tube.  The streets were packed lined with RV’s and vans that were riding support for these folks who were clearly looking at this ride in a different light.
In town we dropped off our bags to go forward to Ludeac, 450 K down the road, and stopped at the local mall to pick up a vest for Steve and a set of Spider Man 3 wool hats for Joe and Billy.  From there we sought out a café for dinner and joined a fluid table of international cyclists and watched folks head out for the 80 and 90 hour starts.  At dinner we heard about different timing strategies and different goals for day one, the most ludicrous of which was riding straight out to Brest then back 80K in one shot before the first big sleep from a group that was looking for a sub 60 hour finish.
After dinner and a bottle of wine we wished well our 90 hour companions and headed to the store to pick up breakfast food and then the hotel to rest.  Our hotel was mostly populated by Americans, so we had lots of folks to chat with as they were heading out for the night start.  As the last of them left, we headed up to get some rest ahead of an early, and long day on Tuesday.