Ah... Fboab's little pearls of wisdom. I should have known, shouldn't I? After all, it's still only a month since we rode PBP - a ride she famously described once as "It's not a hard ride, it's just a long ride".
In fairness to her, she'd blagged a GPS track for the Orchies 200 from some dubious frenchman with a handlebar moustache, in a dark alley somewhere in deepest darkest Nord-pas-de-Calais, and it turned out to have about 50 waypoints in it (this can be considered as the GPS equivalent of buying a couple of grams of Smack, only to find it's 50% Vim), so didn't exactly "follow the road", and the reported figure of 978m of climbing could only really be considered in the same manner as a George Osborne fiscal estimate.
We were really looking forward to a return to CC Orchies. They're such a friendly lot, and made us feel so welcome on the 400 in May, we felt it was a fitting closure to this Audax season, and a French SR. As we have a van now, we had some spare space so fboab's #1 daughter tagged along so she could do some sightseeing in nearby Lille.
We arrived late on Friday evening, after a not entirely stress-free drive (via Dartford to collect #1 daughter). Hand signals and rude language may have been deployed.
Fboab had booked a hotel in Centre-Lille, so #1 daughter was in amongst the tourist spots. She got to have a luxury room on the 2nd floor, whereas fboab and I got a small cupboard, somewhere in the loft, laughingly referred to as "The 6th floor".
It's probably worth mentioning, only in an audax-related sleep deprivation context you understand, that this hotel (in common with many) was made of tissue paper and cardboard. Consequently we (well me actually - fboab claims to have slept through all this) became closely familiar with the more intimate sides of the relationships of (Friday Night) the two guys, and (Saturday Night) the guy/girl in the next room. Ear-plugs were deployed. By me, that is. Probably not them.
Now, back to the ride. I'm still a bit broken after PBP. Aside from the usual nerve damage, I have a fairly b0rked left knee; a flare-up of a previous cycling injury of a meniscus nature. So, we decided to eschew the delights of Le Tandem, and take solo bikes, giving me the opportunity to bail and not ruin fboab's day. Yes. What the actual fuck? Bikes we have to individually operate! Oh my - I haven't done a solo audax in... well, I don't actually know - it's a very long time since I rode a bike without help. Fboab had recently acquired a shiny new one, and was yet to take it for a proper spin (proper, as in "further than one might deem sensible").
There were 65 starters who rolled out into the Orchies One Way System of Doom, on the chilly, misty Sunday morning. As with the 400, there appeared to be a Chosen One from CC Orchies who provided a lead out, an audax derny if you will. We cruised along at a steady 25, enjoying something that's not been ours to enjoy for a while - the peloton experience on solo bikes.
Riding a tandem in a peloton of solos is quite stressful. Fboab can't see what I can see - so she'll apply power when it's not welcome (we're 2" from the wheel in front) or she'll need prompting when we need to "get back on". So it was with some perverse delight that we soaked up the peloton experience and were carried along for the first 40km, barely turning a pedal it seemed. The Chosen One peeled off after an hour, but it seems that the CC Orchies crowd have learned some bladder control; there was no apparent need to line up along the verge for a pee this time, and the peloton rolled on into the morning sunshine.
Gradually, things got feistier, and there were clearly attempts at mounting a break-away at the front. Then, the terrain intervened, somewhere south of Lens. After a short rise, there appeared around us clear indications of mining activity. Slag heaps. Quite large slag heaps. "Don't worry, we don't have to climb one of those." chortled fboab, and right on cue - the road went up. It went up and down quite a lot, and into some lovely woodland that I would have enjoyed much more if my knee wasn't complaining so much. Finally, after a long drag up, on which fboab totally dropped me, we arrived at the first control at the Canadian National Vimy Memorial.
I was in pain. We'd made a complete hash of transferring our usual kit to the solos (by "we", I mean "me" as fboab played the "Oh I don't have any luggage capacity on my bike" card, so I was carrying everything), so it turned out we only had paracetamol. I took two, and considered my lot. The sensible thing would have been for me to pack there, and ride the (mostly) flat route straight back to the start. But audax isn't sensible, is it? The whole thing is nuts. So we carried on, didnt we?
The next section was really quite hilly. Steep at first, but then it opened out into what can only be described as classic PBP terrain; long wavelength, rolling hills. Fboab was having a whale of a time, and being the sympathetic sort she is, rode off into the distance, leaving me to my mardy ways.
The irony of this scenario was not lost on me. On a previous occasion (quite a long time ago), the tables had been reversed - I'd ridden off ahead, despite a previous agreement that we were riding together. Fboab threw her toys out of the pram, then beat up a small child, stole their toys and threw them out of the pram too. Now in the reverse situation, being all grown up and A Man, I decided not to do any of that bollocks, and instead got all mardy and whiny, so it's no wonder she buggered off.
We eventually reconvened at the top of a hill where she'd stopped to wait for me. I rode past, silently, eyes fixed ahead.
Soon, she pulled alongside.
fboab: "You OK?"
Some Mardy fucker claiming to be me: "I'll live."
We to'd and fro'd for a while in accordance with the terrain, waiting for the next control to appear.
Of course, this being Sunday, France was even more closed than usual, in fact only slightly less closed than on May 1st, when everything is closed. We were getting low on water, had no food, and had ridden 120km or so on a meagre hotel "Continental" breakfast. The control village appeared to be like any other rural French village. Shutters down and deserted except for the mandatory wandering dog. We rode up and down what claimed to be the "High Street", but there was nothing.
We rode on, after getting photo PoP at the village limit.
Soon, a small group rode by. "Good Morning!" someone called.
We latched on to the group, and fboab exercised her French to ascertain that there was in fact a Cafe at the control village that presumably, French riders could see, but we couldn't.
I couldn't keep up with the group on any climbs, and we were getting desperate for water - as Fat Burners, we could deal with the lack of food, but water was an issue. It wasn't "hot" as such, about 21c, but that's warm enough for a lack of water to be significant.
Fboab hailed a ped in the next village, and attempted to get the sympathy vote, and blag some local Eau. He was singularly unhelpful, so we rode on.
In Moislains (134km), fboab was mentally preparing to knock on a door and beg some water from a local. Then, as we rolled into the village, it became apparent there was a "Do" on. It seems to be a Thing they do - close the main drag, install a boot sale, let the local enfants play on the fire-engine, and have a bar-b.
Holy moly - there was a stall outside the Boulangerie - selling Hot Dog or Jambon baguettes, and they were happy to fill our Bidons. Oh man. I had water so I could take more drugs! We had FOOD! We had WATER! That was one of the best stops we've ever had on a ride. We sat beside the fire-engine that was covered in enfants, and ate. I managed some kind of mental Reboot; I'd been in a poor place mentally, which was a shame as it was a cracking day; sunny, warm, new roads, friendly folks (erm, mostly - see later), this stop really got us back on our feet.
The terrain opened out some more as we headed Northeast toward the final control at Brunémont. Fboab stopped for a nature call, and caught me up some time later in Mœuvres. It was here, or hereabouts I had my second ever Priorité à droite incident. Easily done - car comes to a junction on the right, I think "So what?", he keeps on going because he has the right. At the very last minute I remember thinking "There's no road markings - he's got priority" but it was too late. Cue blaring of horn, followed a few seconds later by a nasty punishment pass that had me wishing bad things on him and his fucking pet dog that I spotted in a cage in the back of his car. But he was right, and I was wrong.
The mood darkened again for a while. I muttered endessly to fboab. "I'm not riding here anymore. What a ridiculous law - I'm going to get myself killed..." yada yada.
Later on we passed an incident where someone quite possibly was killed - lots of blue flashing lights, a stretcher, and a motorcyclist not looking at all well.
The control at Brunémont arrived, and we staggered into one of the Tabacs and slumped against the bar. Oh - OK, that might just have been me.
The two guys next to us seemed intrigued. #1 guy clearly caught that we were Brits, so couched his question in the simplest possible terms:
#1 Bar Guy: "Beaucoup velo?"
Me: "Oui. Deux cents kilometres."
#2 Bar guy: "Du jour?"
Me: "Oui"
#2 Bar guy: Quite a lot of French I really didn't understand, but probably said "What the fuck? You daft buggers"
That's the trouble with just enough French to be Dangerous - you engage in a conversation that you're almost immediately out of your depth in. Thankfully, Fboab helped me out. I probably didn't help my cause by waving "Bonjour!" as I left, rather than "Au revoir!"...
We got on our way again, with just 35km to go. Fboab had it in her head that there was some Chemin Blanc to come, but it was mostly D172 to Orchies, and we finished at about 5:30pm. I let fboab finish first; for a tandem couple, it doesn't happen often.
We've really enjoyed our time in France this year. It wasn't a deliberate thing at the outset, I suppose, but essentially we split our summer holiday into four parts, and spread it out over about five months. Tesco clubcard mostly paid for the Eurotunnel crossings; the Dieppe ferry crossing for the (aborted) 1000 needed money, but it was pretty cheap.
My French hasn't improved that much, and fboab is just as rubbish at predicting hilliness, but we have had fun - something that we'd found lacking recently in UK Audax, which seems much more focussed on how difficult rides are, rather than how fun they are.
Perhaps we should try organising some rides next...?
