Obligatory post-ride report, PBP 2003
DRAFT

Everybody writes about their PBP experience, so it seems.   It’s not that easy since there’s such a lot to cover which non-cyclists would find pretty boring.  Enthusiasts, on the other hand, are put off by superficial coverage like you might expect from a tabloid newspaper.  What to do?

Non-cyclist’s version
Went in Paris-Brest-Paris ‘bicycle ultramarathon’ this year.  Rode 1250 kilometres in about 74 hours without major problems.  My time was 12th fastest out of 83 Australian entries but some riders are not at all concerned about speed.  Had a great time but probably won’t do it again; once is enough for such a commitment of time, expense and effort.

Cyclist’s version 
Thought about this for years.  Read heaps of ride reports and became familiar with the course, history, records etc.  Decided to give it a go and began preparation early 2002.  Joined Audax Australia, arranged qualifying rides, bought air tickets, got time off work,  passport etc. I planned a self-sufficient ride with no vehicle support, no bag drop, no spare clothing and no artificial dietary supplements.

Decided to use a recumbent lowracer bicycle for a faster and less painful ride.  My Optima Baron performed well in qualifiers, with bugs (like a weak steering stem) sorted.  Fitted a carry-rack with pannier bags and carefully selected tools/spares kit.  Personal items like clothing were kept to barest minimum.  All up, the bike with gear came in at about 30kg.  Packed it all into a cardboard bike box except one pannier which was carry-on luggage.  Flew out of Sydney one week before the start.  Air travel was tolerable with excellent in-flight entertainment and airports that resemble large shopping malls.  Free internet/e-mail terminals helped to make waiting time pass.

Assembled bike at Paris airport in 40 degree heat and choking jet-wash.  It was the tail-end of a record heatwave with so many citizens dying that temporary morgues had to be erected!  After a false start detouring onto an “A” (= autoroute) road (illegal for bikes), made my way onto some “D” (= departmental) roads. Crossed the grimy northern suburbs of Paris toward the west with a rough plan of “touring Normandy” to acclimatise and build fitness. Out of Paris, riding was more pleasant along the Seine.  Barges converted into housing, bike paths with helmetless velo-gendarmes.  “N” (= national) roads were busier and less pleasant but French drivers particularly tolerant.  First night at Vernon in a cheap F1 hotel with about 120km covered.

It became apparent that D-day beaches were too far to ride without risking exhaustion in this heatwave.  Didn’t want to jeopardise my PBP ride so I looped south about 100km to intersect the PBP course at Senonches where I stayed in a “12th century” hotel building and enjoyed a traditional French dinner.  The young chef was a cycling fan and offered free food and a bed when I return next week as a radonneur!  Thankfully the weather cooled and the next day I had a leisurely ride east to the PBP start area, improving my knowledge of the course.  Lugging my loaded bike up some stiff climbs was a good workout and I could feel the fitness improving.

There were plenty of riders out all around the St. Quentin locale, some of them Aussies judging by the kangaroos spray painted onto road signs.  On one climb I encountered Bernie Collins with Greenspeed trike and Audax Australia cycling gear.  He was on his way to PBP not to compete, but to enjoy the post race party, so he said.

Most cheaper hotels were booked out by the influx of foreign riders.  I ended-up staying for 2 nights at a Campagnile middle-range establishment at Viosins le Bretaneaux, about 4 km from the start.  Normally would have been quite comfortable but not in this heat.  I whinged to the manager about lack of air conditioning and he agreed.  His room was next to mine!

Rode around St. Quentin for a few days including a 100km loop into the nearby Rambouillet community forests and deep valleys.  Rather pleasant, a bit like Royal National Park near Sydney.  The town itself is thoroughly modern middle class housing/ offices/ light industry.  A bit sterile really, something like a Canberra suburb.

Saturday I transferred to F1 hotel in Maurepas that had been pre-booked.  It seemed quite a long way and was in an ugly industrial estate called “Pariwest”   At least there was a giant supermarket next door where I bought a pair of sunglasses and stocked-up on cheap groceries.  There were other Audax riding bargain-hunters at F1 including the Bulgarian team, some Germans and late-arriving disorganised Scotsman.

Sunday was check-in day at Gyancourt Droit le Homme gymnasium.  Arrived with plenty of time only to discover that I had left my reflective vest at Maurepas.  Oops! Tried to borrow a spare one from a US rider but it wasn’t reflective!  Ah well, an extra 24km of training will do me good.  After bike check (rather cursory) it was inside to pick up documents, PBP bidon and pre-ordered jerseys etc.  There was a nice Super Radonneur medal from ACP in recognition of the qualifying series.  I collected Glenn Druery’s jersey for him and hung out checking all the exotic machinery like Dutch velocars, vintage bikes and various tricycles.  Met-up with Ian Humphries and Rebecca.  He was planning to ride an Optima Stinger, similar to my bike but with both wheels 20 inch and rear suspension.  A bit on the heavy side!

Last supper with most of the Aussies was held at Pizza-Pina restaurant in downtown St.Q, along with several hundred other riders.  Waiters were severely overtaxed by the crowd and our meals took hours to prepare.  Oh well, at least I met some of the Australian contingent.

Slept in as late as possible on Monday, then headed-off to ride the PBP prologue.  Joined in at Trappes, about ½ km from the start.  We wound our way for 30km around the perimeter of St. Quentin, ending at the gymnasium where participants were given a t-shirt.  Decided to off-load some weight from the panniers and I queued in a post office for ages to discover that even the smallest airmail parcel to Australia costs about $100 AUD!  No sea mail available. Guess I’ll carry that stuff with me after all.

Ate a pretty solid lunch and dozed for a few hours on a park bench near the start.  Buzzed by local kids on their mopeds.  It had turned cool for a change which boded well for me.  Eventually made my way back to the start where excitement was building.  Took off the panniers for safe storage by ACP staff.  My rack-top bag was emptied to just a few tools, spares and food.  I had ditched the leaky winecask bladder system and relied on just one bidon.  Spare clothing: one jocks, one socks.

8pm starters were keen.  They queued for over an hour just to get closer to the start line! After speeches from the mayor etc. they were off.  A few riders immediately overtook escorting vehicles despite being warned of instant disqualification.  It took several minutes for the group to make their way out of the starting area.

My start at 9.45pm was more leisurely.  We were the weirdos riding tandems, triplets, tricycles and velos exceptionels.  There was quite a festive mood as a crowd gathered to watch the lunatics.  By now it was getting dark with vests and lights required.  We took off at a reasonable pace behind a motorcycle escort for the first 30 minutes.  Passing was difficult in the congestion but the bunch started to thin out as we left town and dived into some steep little valleys at Ergal and Monfort L’Amoury.  There was a really fast descent through pitch-black forest at Gambaisueil requiring good lights before the course flattened a bit for the run to Nogent.

The faster tandems loved this country and disappeared off the front, as did a couple of quick recumbents including a Thys rowingbike.  I rode with Ian Humphries for a couple of hours and we made reasonable pace across the flatlands after Nogent.  I remember the strong compost smell in the cool night air of this intensively farmed area.  Just after this we passed through Tremblay where only last week I had stopped at a bakery decorated with a neon-illuminated and motorised bike.  The owners were keen PBP supporters with lots of framed photos from the previous PBP in 1999.

Had been going for a few hours now and still no sign of fastest upright riders who started 15 minutes after me, so I guess our pace was reasonable.  I recall being annoyed with Ian when he failed to overtake a tandem at an opportune moment but shortly after that they all rode away from me on a short climb out of a village, (possibly St-Maixme-Hauterive.)  Not too long after this it became clear that I had deviated off the course.  The red tail-lights that I was following stopped and a Germanic voice called “hallooo, I think we are lost”.  The rider had already sussed our predicament on a detailed map as he announced  “I think we  make short-cut.” (instead of going backwards).  We rejoined the course near Senonches having lost only about 10 minutes but this was enough time that we were now surrounded by 10pm starters.  There was little risk of getting lost again with so many lights to follow.

Regarding course marking.  I found it poor and often could not find any arrows.  The arrow-head simply did not reflect my low headlight and on a recumbent I could not see any painted road markings.  I could not understand how the upright riders knew where to turn off a roundabout at high speed in the dark but just trusted them and followed.

Writing this now my memory starts to get very hazy about the exact sequence of events.  I was so focused on riding that the external environment became of secondary importance and situational awareness was not good.  It was as if I was riding a stationary exercise bike with a moving backdrop complete with changing light and temperature that I did not pay much attention to.  Certain incidents remain clear but exactly when and where are a mystery.

First (optional) stop was at Mortagne au Perche.  Not a controle but fully-staffed for food and drink.  I guess it was about 02:30 Tuesday morning and nearly everyone was stopping.  I had been advised to “eat plenty” and decided to do so at every single opportunity even if not hungry, so this was my first try of PBP food.  It was good solid carbo + protein + vegetables with plenty of fruit and drinks.  Lots of variety and large servings.  Typically pasta/ rice/ potato/ bread with fish/ stew/ meatballs, yogurt/ pudding .  A large meal with 2 drinks cost about 10 Euro. Average stop at each controle would have been about 50 minutes and usually had a markedly good effect on strength and spirits.  There was always a bar serving beer/ cider / wine and usually some French riders partaking, often with cigarettes as well!

Can’t remember much about the remainder of the first night.  Something about wheels touching (?) a few riders ahead of me and someone crashing into a ditch without severe injury (they got out of the ditch by themselves).  Do not remember the sunrise but it was not very cold.  Arrived at Villaines at 0712, shortly after dawn.  Same check in time as Ian which surprised me as I thought he’d be miles ahead.  Cafeteria was across the road and as we sat down he said he was considering abandonment.  Apparently felt exhausted + with sore leg (?).  Said he would have a large meal and rest-up before deciding what to do.  I muttered a few supportive words before heading off.  Felt pretty good myself and planning to sleep only at night to save batteries and avoid the cold.  My halogen light had only lasted about 3 hours on first night but excellent EL 300 was such that I didn’t even notice the loss.

Fougeres (ferns) just across Bretagne border was arrived at just before midday.  The controle was a long way from cafeteria requiring an extra ride but they had free stamped PBP postcards so I sent one to my daughter Brittany who had turned 17 only 2 days before.  Also sent one to Glenn in Sydney.  Little did I know that he would be in Fougeres himself within 2 days!  As I was leaving, I saw the Kickbike rider resting with feet up.  He would have been less than 1 hour behind me, riding a scooter.  Bloody hell!!

Must have felt a bit seedy that afternoon because I went into a bar for a large strong coffee.  There were a few Italian riders in there who left before me and there is some memory of one of those guys crashing not long after.  He was briefly unconscious and out of the event.  I recall thinking “lucky it wasn’t me” but can’t remember any other details.

Tintineac in mid-afternoon.  Don’t remember much except being very annoyed by all the non-riders (volunteers) lined-up in a long slow cafeteria queue.  I went to a snack bar instead (?).  There was some very spectacular scenery after this around Becherel which seemed like some kind of medieval town on a hilltop with 360 degree views.  There was steep climbing involved and I stopped at a supermarket somewhere near here for headlight batteries.

Around this time I met a very talkative eccentric English rider on a Velotechnic German recumbent.  He had done PBP on an upright in ‘99 and related how it had ‘almost killed him’ with exhaustion, saddle soreness and skin damage.  He was extremely happy with his new ride by comparison.

Arrived at Loudeac early evening.  Quite a long queue for food here as well but at least they were all riders.  Met-up with a few other Aussies and we ate together.  The others headed off to bed but I still felt OK and decided to do one more stage before bed.  Thought I might break my 24hr PB distance of 468.   A cold breeze had me worried though so I scavenged around and found an old advertising poster (for a circus) that fitted under my jersey.  I was disdainful but jealous of the “softies” who had bag drops here with fresh clothes and cold-weather gear!  Coldness proved not a problem so long as I rode with some effort.  The paper worked a treat but had to be dumped later after it got sodden with perspiration.

Memory gets even fuzzier around now.  It got dark and seemed pretty hilly just after Loudeac.  Missed another course arrow and did not break 24 hour PB.  It was about here that the lead bunch of returning riders steamed past.  26 hours and 760 km covered, whew!  They looked like a TDF peleton and had the considerable benefit of permanent motorcycle escort.  Not really fair in my opinion.  (I found out several months later that this bunch had been penalised severely for illegal car escort and rudeness to controle staff).

Surprised next by a “secret controle” at Corlay.  Designed to discourage cheating, they do not appear on the route sheet.  I later found out that food was supplied but I missed it.

Riding into the late night after 30+ hours awake and ~500km the ride began to take on surreal qualities.  I was euphorically overtaking everyone and “hunting” for riders to pass.  Began to sing/ chant the Queen song “I want to ride my bicycle” but with extra verses made-up.  The records show that my speed was not very high but it felt damn good at the time.

Arriving at Carhaix in early morning was pretty weird.  I was spaced-out on endorphins and sleep deprivation.  The buildings seemed particularly stark and monochromatic, like an old B+W movie.  It was common to see riders asleep next to their half-eaten meal.  Forced down some food then headed off to sleep.  For a few Euro I got a stretcher + WWII blanket in a basketball court with a guaranteed wake-up at a set time.  I had no trouble sleeping and was woken after 4 hours feeling enormously refreshed.

The next stretch from Carhaix was one of the most memorable parts of my PBP.  The control was almost deserted and roads virtually empty.  It was cold but I replaced the paper under my jersey with a plastic sheet (garbage bag) and was warm enough.  Rode along a valley into wild Breton national park.  Thought I was lost but saw an occasional arrow and after about 30 min began to come across a few riders.  I had an enormous surge of strength here and began passing everyone again, even going uphill.  At one stage I rushed past a large pack on a steep climb and heard an exclamation of disbelief from one of the French riders as they disappeared in my mirror. The road steepened near Huelgoat with waterfalls and alpine buildings.  Looked like a nice area to return to for a holiday.

The road flattened out at Roc Trevezal, the highest point of the whole course (370m) with dramatic views down to the coast.  Excellent downhill run on good roads to Sizun where we turned off to commence a loop with it’s middle point at the Brest controle.  Eventually reached the harbour and crossed on the older bridge.  Strong ocean smell reminiscent of  seaside holidays as we followed Brest harbour side for about 2 km before turning inland onto a steep climb to the controle.  Arrived at the ½ way point in just under 36 hours elapsed but feeling quite OK and with a reasonable sleep under the belt.  Had a free beer in celebration along with breakfast of a ham sandwich (jambon).  Sat with a USA tandem captain who whinged vehemently about his stoker -until she returned to the table. 

As was usual in daylight hours the Baron had a small crowd of onlookers gathered round when I came out ready to leave.  A few hurriedly translated questions, photos, and I was off, feeling confident that I would make it to Paris since I had now done more than half of the work.

Coming out of Landerneau I noticed a large billboard with my daughter’s name on it, or close to.  “Cooperagri Bretagne”.  Don’t know what it was for but took a photo anyway.  From here was a long climb back to Sizun and Trevezal; never too steep but pretty slow.  Spent a while chatting with a German guy who had just spent some time in Australia.  After Sizun was 2 way traffic again and the vast majority of 10pm starters, about 3-4 hours behind me at that stage.  Saw most of the Aussie team including Duncan McDonald.  

The road back to Carhaix stayed on a busy N road all the way and I was disappointed not to see Huelgoat and the beautiful forest again.  Found myself tiring noticeably along here and the British recumbent rider from yesterday spent a long time explaining carbohydrate metabolism in exercise to me.  Seems his Audax club had lectures from a sports nutritionist.  Everything he said made perfect sense and it became clear that I should have eaten properly in Brest.  Struggled into Carhaix after midday and phoned home from the controle office using telecard.  Dannielle had been following my progress on the ACP site and advised me to have another sleep that night, a plan that I agreed with.

The next two sectors to Loudeac and Tintineac are not well remembered.  I felt tired and was wishing for another energy spurt like I'd had twice before.  Decided on a second sleep at Tintineac which was in a dormitory with several others, one of whom was a loud snorer.  Left before dawn and saw the 3rd sunrise near the Normandy border with some fast recumbent guys on a Baron and Jester.  They had started 7 hours after me but had ridden without much (any?) sleep.

Around here my neck started to become uncontrollably weak in the frontal strap muscles. My head kept flopping backwards and I was riding for extended periods actually holding my head up with one hand.  Fixed the problem at Fougeres with installation of a “pillow” made of rolled-up corrugated cardboard.  It worked a treat and actually stayed on the bike for the next 2 weeks, protected during rain by a plastic bag.  To make my pillow work properly I had to sink down lower in the seat and this change in position seemed to make me quite a bit faster. 

Fougeres to Mortagne seemed a lot hillier than on the way out and I learned a lot about conserving momentum up hills.  I was really hammering downhill and on the flats and frequently “saved up” enough speed that I could coast over the top and blow away plenty of roadies while I was at it.  Got to Mortagne in the hottest part of the day and was supported by Aussie spectators who supplied sunburn cream and moral support.  They said only a few Australians had gone through before me.  Washed all of my clothes in a sink and put them back on.  Another big crowd of spectators around my bike who interrogated me while I oiled the chain and gave me an ovation as I headed out on the second last leg.  I was feeling good.

Pretty fast across the flats of Normandy.  Sat on over 40 kph for about an hour, overtaking riders who appeared to be standing still.  This was my third experience of “high speed euphoria” aided no doubt by “rocket fuel” - 50% Coca Cola in water.  Arrived in Noget le Roi at last light and was met by a motherly Bernard Collins.  He was by now quite used to almost psychotic long distance bike riders and gently steered me to the controle and then the food hall.  We discussed my personal goals and I decided to go for a sub-75 hour time.

The last sector was almost anti-climactic.  Still felt good and fast.  Pitch black. Not many riders around to chase/ overtake.  In my mental state I was thinking I could break 73 hours and was quite disappointed to hear a church bell tolling 11pm on the steep climb at Gambaiseill.  Riders thinned-out even more and I was  worried about getting lost so close to the finish.  Couldn’t see any markings / arrows at all (apparently some had been stolen).  I knew I was mentally not 100% and when I saw a pig running alongside me I just assumed it was an hallucination.  A while later another rider said “did you see that pig?”  Finally rolled into the familiar streets of St Quentin and knew that I had made it.  A couple of red traffic lights and I was there, about 73 hours 45 minutes elapsed.  The welcoming party was enthusiastic but not huge at that hour.  It was remarkable to consider that the very fastest riders had finished nearly 1½ days earlier.

Crashed out on a gymnasium floor and slept soundly for about 8 hours, along with many others.  Next morning watched the tail-enders come in, had a few beers with some of the people I’d met.  A bloke told me he’d ridden with Glenn Druery which I could hardly believe, but it was true.  As I was to learn, Glenn had arrived in France about 2 days after the start and caught a taxi to Fougeres in order to ride at least a part of the course!!  Amazing.

We rode back to Maurepas that evening and next day rode past Versailles into central Paris.  A few photos of Eiffel tower etc. and on to Anquetil velodrome in Parc Vincennes.  Glenn entered some recumbent races but I had developed painful Achilles tendonitis (which actually took about 5 months to settle down).  We holed-up in yet another F1 at Port du Chatellon for 2 nights before continuing the journey.