Ride report - Paris to London

A 4am start from home was a rude awakening.

I got as far as Deptford Bridge and the rain started. It was on with
my trusty Paramo smock outside a 24hr grocery store, watched by
bemused drunks and late night fag buyers, then through New Cross and
down the Old Kent Road where youngsters were tumbling out of the third
rate night clubs.

On arrival at St Pancras International I locked my Marin up at the
pathetic excuse of an International cycle parking facility: 12
Sheffield stands tucked away in the far corner of the car park.
Looking at the bike next to mine, with its missing saddle and buckled
front wheel, I pondered my choice of leaving my 2nd spare bike in such
a spot. Nevertheless, I had little choice now. I was glad I had
brought two good locks to secure this trusty steed that had seen me
safely across the Pyrenees eight years earlier.

I met my nine companions, seven of them for the first time, on the
train. Gig is the wife of a colleague, Barbara her sister; Teri I have
cycled with many times, including a ten day tour of the Mosel and
Rhine; Nadia I had never met; neither had I met the father and son,
Alistair and Christopher; or the Hallam Family, Helen, George and
daughter Rachel.

We mostly chatted very loudly on the Eurostar to Paris, until some
desperate passenger asked us politely if we would mind shutting the
f*ck up, which we did, then promptly fell asleep and woke the
remaining slumbering passengers up with our snoring.

We arrived at Gare du Nord refreshed and ready for our adventure,
collected our bikes, left the station turned a corner and found out
that we had lost George and Helen. Teri went off to find them, and
then got lost herself. Several mobile phone calls later we managed to
regroup and made our way swiftly to the Eiffel Tower for a photograph
and a faff.

We headed west to leave Paris via the scenic route: Bois de Boulogne,
St Cloud, Parc de Marly, Foret Domaniale du Marly-le-Roi. It was in
this park that the heavy rain started and we picked up some right
Royal punctures: first George then Alistair one, two and three before
we got going again - nearly 90 minutes later and still in the pouring
rain. It became apparent that we would not make it to our hotel in
daylight.

We tumbled into Poissy at 3pm for an outrageously expensive lunch (7
euros for cheese on toast) and a crisis conference. It was determined
thus: the Hallam Family, Gig, Barbara and Nadia would cycle to Cergy
and catch a train to Giscours and then another train to
Gournay-en-Bray and find our hotel. I had checked and had this in the
back of my mind as a contingency for the first day which I knew would
be tough. Alistair, Christopher, Teri and I would carry on now that
the rain had stopped.

We crossed the Seine and climbed the relentless hill out of the
valley. It was murder - and I didn't even blink when we passed a
curious sign to Us Marines. Alistair's knee by this time was causing
him serious problems, and the rain had started again. Teri and I were
probably ten minutes ahead of Alistair and Christopher, there was an
underpass ahead and I shouted to Teri that I needed to put on my
waterproof trousers, my superb Paramo smock already being on at the
first drop of rain. Just as we sprint reached cover of the underpass
the hail came down, so not only did my trousers go on but my overshoes
too. Christopher first, then Alistair arrived soaked. It then became
apparent that neither of them had adequate waterproofs. Now, I'm not a
great fan of cycle specific clothing: I do like the comfort of cycle
shorts, but generally put on rugby shorts over the top and wear cotton
T-shirts. I also take with me good quality waterproofs - for this trip
I had an excellent windproof fleece, my amazing Paramo smock, packlite
overtrousers, waterproof mitts and cycling overshoes. I knew I would
stay dry.

We sheltered until the rain stopped, then proceeded to the curiously
named village of Us, and then to the even more curiously named village
of Marines. There we stopped at a bakers and gorged ourselves on
brioche. We phoned the hotel to expect us at about 9pm, they asked if
we wanted dinner, and the answer was an unequivocal yes. Alistair's
knee was such that he couldn't continue, so we decided to head for the
nearest train station, Chars. The rain started again, and so Alistair
and Christopher got a second soaking.

The train was in ten minutes, it duly arrived, and we got onto the
fantastic cycle compartment with space for three bicycles hanging and
probably six more between the doors. The toilet stank. Giscors was
just two stops, maybe ten miles. There we got off to change trains,
only there was no second train to Gournay, there was a bus. No matter,
it would take four bikes. Wow!

Teri and I waited, Alistair and Christopher shivered. It was warm in
the waiting room, but still they shivered... and shivered.

Another train arrived, and off hopped our six other companions. We
were a party of ten, with space on the bus for just four bikes. Oh
well, thought I, I'll be cycling again soon. It was 9pm and dark.
Alistair, Christopher, Helen and Barbara caught the bus, the rest of
us cycled to Gournay. I loved it. I have always enjoyed night-time
cycling and this was no exception. Even when the rain started again I
still enjoyed it, and boy did it rain! In buckets the rain came down.

We got to the hotel at 10pm. Our bikes were locked in a garage and we
dripped into the foyer. I stripped off my waterproofs. My clothing was
dry (except my socks). Dinner was a feast of spaghetti and bolognaise
sauce. I think I had three portions.

I slept well and awoke refreshed. Breakfast was at 9am and was an
excellent continental breakfast with croissants, bread and delicious
home-made jams. We discussed with the proprietor his cultivation
techniques for his wonderful twirly moustache.

Soon after ten we set off and made excellent progress, reaching
Forges-les-Eaux and the start of Le Avenue Verte in about an hour. The
Avenue Verte is a 50 Km long strip of smooth tarmac, almost completely
flat, about 3 metres wide, from which motor vehicles are banned. We
roared along it. Occasionally it rained, but nothing like the fierce
storms of the previous day. And then we arrived in Dieppe.

The Avenue Verte stopped and we were back on French roads. We headed
straight for the port to collect our pre-booked tickets. Only the
booking clerk didn't have a record of our booking! No problem, we
would re-book. The problem was that head office was shut and there was
no one who could authorise a group booking, we would have to pay the
full price of 30 Euros per person instead of the group price of 14
Euros. And due to the pathetic booking system, only one vehicle (bike
in this case) would be allowed per booking, so the stressed clerk had
to make ten bookings, each booking took about five minutes to make. So
an hour later we were given out booking confirmations... But they were
for the 7.30pm crossing today, we wanted the 6.30am crossing tomorrow.
I had told that to the seriously stressed clerk and she acknowledged
her mistake and started the booking process over. Another 30 minutes
later and we left the booking office for the ride to the hotel.

The ride to the hotel was where I cocked up. Thus far my bike's sat.
nav. system had not failed. It had taken us out of central Paris
without hiccup, it had taken us on forest tracks on the outskirts of
Paris without a problem. It had directed us to the closest train
station with pin-point accuracy. It led us through storms to our hotel
in Gournay-en-Bray. But now it failed me. It took us on a ridiculously
circuitous route from the ferry port through the centre of town, along
the coast, along a river estuary, and up an amazingly steep hillside.
A five mile cycle trip from the port to the hotel turned into a
fifteen mile epic, with my nine companions cursing me continually -
except Nadia who loves nothing more than climbing an unexpected 15%
1500m hill from estuary to summit hotel and the end of an exhausting
day.

The hotel welcomed us warmly, put our bikes in a store room. We ate
then slept.

At 4.30am we rose. At 5am we cycled to the Ferry Port, this time on a
slightly less circuitous route, but not by much. I had told the sat.
nav. to allow busy roads - it did, but at 5am they were not busy. But
the main road route was circuitous, but downhill circuitous, so I
didn't get quite the grumbling of the previous day.

We caught the ferry. We had breakfast. We slept.

The disembark port was Newhaven. We cycled along NCR2 to Hailsham,
picked up the Cuckoo Trail to Heathfield, over the hills to the Forest
Way and onto East Grinstead and our hotel for the night. Our bikes
were stored in an uncovered but locked passageway.

A full English breakfast later we set off along the Worth Way to
Crawley where we briefly got lost, then to Gatwick, then to Horley
were Christopher and Alistair said farewell and caught the train.
Barbara punctured - I fixed it, then George punctured, it took a
skilled eye to identify the cause:
http://www.britishschoolofcycling.co...hotos/puncture
Then Teri punctured, then Teri's tyre needed rebedding, then it needed
rebedding again, then it suffered an explosive blow-out. I'm glad my
bike was wearing Marathon Plusses.

The Hallam Family and Nadia took the train home from East Croydon
leaving just four of us to cycle home. I got home at about 7pm.

"Tom Crispin" wrote in message
...
A 4am start from home was a rude awakening.

What was the point of going to Paris in the first place? Was there a
purpose or was it a case of doug frivilous hypermobility /doug?

Mr. Benn wrote:
"Tom Crispin" wrote in message
...
A 4am start from home was a rude awakening.

What was the point of going to Paris in the first place? Was there a
purpose or was it a case of doug frivilous hypermobility /doug?

You don't go to Paris, you get sentenced to Paris.

On Tue, 06 Apr 2010 10:07:21 +0100 someone who may be Tosspot
wrote this:-

What was the point of going to Paris in the first place? Was there a
purpose or was it a case of doug frivilous hypermobility /doug?

You don't go to Paris, you get sentenced to Paris.

Anyway, arguments about frivolous hypermobility are different when
they involve a train which would travel anyway, as opposed to a car.



--
David Hansen, Edinburgh
I will *always* explain revoked encryption keys, unless RIP prevents me
http://www.opsi.gov.uk/acts/acts2000...#pt3-pb3-l1g54

On Tue, 6 Apr 2010 09:17:58 +0100, "Mr. Benn"
wrote:

"Tom Crispin" wrote in message
.. .
A 4am start from home was a rude awakening.

What was the point of going to Paris in the first place? Was there a
purpose or was it a case of doug frivilous hypermobility /doug?

Leisure, fitness, culture, education, health, experience, enjoyment,
interaction, challenge, tan, fun and exercise, in no particular order.

What did you do over Easter?

Tom Crispin wrote:

A 4am start from home was a rude awakening.

On arrival at St Pancras International I locked my Marin up at the
pathetic excuse of an International cycle parking facility: 12
Sheffield stands tucked away in the far corner of the car park.

There's a car-park at St Pancras Station? One can learn something every day =
still... one shudders to think of the charges.

I bet you didn't have to pay anything like that charged for a car.

[ ... ]

We caught the ferry. We had breakfast. We slept.

The disembark port was Newhaven. We cycled along NCR2 to Hailsham,
picked up the Cuckoo Trail to Heathfield, over the hills to the Forest
Way and onto East Grinstead and our hotel for the night.

Oh...

I thought was going to be at East Grindstead (typed twice in the same way so
that one could reasonably sure that it wasn't a typo)?

On Tue, 06 Apr 2010 12:25:33 +0100, JNugent
wrote:

Tom Crispin wrote:

A 4am start from home was a rude awakening.

On arrival at St Pancras International I locked my Marin up at the
pathetic excuse of an International cycle parking facility: 12
Sheffield stands tucked away in the far corner of the car park.

There's a car-park at St Pancras Station? One can learn something every day =
still... one shudders to think of the charges.

I bet you didn't have to pay anything like that charged for a car.

[ ... ]

We caught the ferry. We had breakfast. We slept.

The disembark port was Newhaven. We cycled along NCR2 to Hailsham,
picked up the Cuckoo Trail to Heathfield, over the hills to the Forest
Way and onto East Grinstead and our hotel for the night.

Oh...

I thought was going to be at East Grindstead (typed twice in the same way so
that one could reasonably sure that it wasn't a typo)?

With the hills around there, Grindstead wasn't far off the mark.

On 6 Apr, 10:27, David Hansen wrote:
On Tue, 06 Apr 2010 10:07:21 +0100 someone who may be Tosspot
wrote this:-

What was the point of going to Paris in the first place? *Was there a
purpose or was it a case of doug frivilous hypermobility /doug?

You don't go to Paris, you get sentenced to Paris.

Anyway, arguments about frivolous hypermobility are different when
they involve a train which would travel anyway, as opposed to a car.

--
* David Hansen, Edinburgh
*I will *always* explain revoked encryption keys, unless RIP prevents me
*http://www.opsi.gov.uk/acts/acts2000...#pt3-pb3-l1g54

Like the one running alongside me as I went down the M5 the other
morning at about 0530. three occupants, one was probably the "Train
Captain"plus the driver and a solitary punter.

On Tue, 6 Apr 2010 09:37:18 -0700 (PDT), NM
wrote:

On 6 Apr, 10:27, David Hansen wrote:
On Tue, 06 Apr 2010 10:07:21 +0100 someone who may be Tosspot
wrote this:-

What was the point of going to Paris in the first place? *Was there a
purpose or was it a case of doug frivilous hypermobility /doug?

You don't go to Paris, you get sentenced to Paris.

Anyway, arguments about frivolous hypermobility are different when
they involve a train which would travel anyway, as opposed to a car.

Like the one running alongside me as I went down the M5 the other
morning at about 0530. three occupants, one was probably the "Train
Captain"plus the driver and a solitary punter.

The 05.25 St Pancras to Gare du Nord on Good Friday was full.

On 06/04/2010 10:07, Tosspot wrote:
Mr. Benn wrote:
"Tom Crispin" wrote in message
...
A 4am start from home was a rude awakening.

What was the point of going to Paris in the first place? Was there a
purpose or was it a case of doug frivilous hypermobility /doug?

You don't go to Paris, you get sentenced to Paris.

Your posting nik is very appropriate.