A 1300 km leisurely ride to the start, including a couple of days visiting an old uni friend near Boulogne, some time near Ieper/Ypres, a lovely day visiting swarm_catcher's parents, moseying round Belgium looping south round Brussels, a nightmare crossing Charleroi by bike, and discovering this:
(http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6016/5942940981_5f4d616b60.jpg) (http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnspooner/5942940981/)
Nothing to give rise to any Van Broadist or MacNastyan heroics - yet. After much deliberation I decided to carry on as if I hadn't seen it. After all it had probably been like that for months if not years, and probably explained the creaking when putting pressure on the pedals which wasn't cured by changing the chainset and BB.
So on to the ride, picking up maverick and xrtim the day before the start when I found them wandering around Morkhoven looking for something to eat.
The start the next morning was at 5 am from the local gym. Time to renew some old acquintances - Jan had a bit of repeat business.
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Bernd takes a photo before the start. It was all he did apart from charge around on his 53-tooth chainring. 742 of his photos of the ride can be seen here (https://picasaweb.google.com/cyclebernd/RandonneursBeLierseBCRandonneuersVlaanderenMorkhoven69Juli2011Brevet1200Plus?feat=twitter#)
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In the first few km a couple of stops to put on/take off waterproofs
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and the field was all together for a brief stop at Mechelen
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then disaster - as we approached the lifting bridge at Hombeek my carefully laminated pack of routesheet cards fell from my map holder, and by the time I'd stopped, bells were ringing, lights flashing and barriers dropping in front of me. The bunch, meanwhile, sped along the opposite bank of the canal. At best I'd have to bust a gut in trying to catch them, at worst I'd have the next 320km to ride on my own, including navigating through the centre of Brussels (and according to Belgian law, as I was not part of a bunch, obliged to use cyclepaths). All I could do for the present, was to take a picture of the road as it rose up before me
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and watch while a boat v e r y s l o w l y made its way towards then under the bridge, and the bridge took its time lowering the road back into place. Just as I was about to push off, Guy and Daniël appeared behind me, and we sped through the streets to catch the bunch, who had noticed out absence and slowed down to allow us to regroup. But the 15-minute flat out chase (mostly on Guy's wheel) had left me knackered
Brussels, and the obligatory stop at the Atomium
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xrtim: "What does it do? What's it for?"
and on through the streets of central rush-hour Brussels
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and to the control at a café at Naast. Some happy faces:
(http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6148/5943423712_0439032d25.jpg) (http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnspooner/5943423712/)
Here I sat next to Antonio, born in Spain but resident in Belgium for nearly 50 years, and said that I'd probably do the next 265 km alone, as I was being dropped on the hills, and then having to chase to catch up. He suggested we form a Francophone Lanterne Rouge group with Bernard (valkyrie will remember him from HBKH) and André who was just arriving at the control. We duly excused ourselves from Jan's group and waved them off. But when we were ready to go there was no sign of Bernard, so we set off without him.
The main group had left on the road behind the church, but André insisted on a different route. It soon became clear we were not following the official route, but one André had concocted which took us through the village where he was born 64 years ago, past the school he went to, past the village water tower, along the cobbled roads where he had learned to ride (I still haven't learned to ride cobbles) ...
15 hours later there was still no sign of Bernard at our hotel on the outskirts of Paris after 365 km - no one had seen him since the 100 km mark. It turns out he had left with the fast group, then decided to join us and returned, expecting to bump into us on the road or at the café, but missed us as we had already left using André's route. Bernard is rather shy, hadn't done much preparation in familiarising himself with the route and speaks only French, so with a predominantly Flemish routesheet and no GPS the day was a bit of a nightmare for him. He got to the hotel at 2:30 am, ready for a 4 am alarm call.
The next day took us straight through the middle of Paris - for me one of the highlights of the ride. After getting dropped then lost the previous year (but see my sig) I made sure I stayed as close as possible to Jan's wheel at all times, even if this involved a bit of elbowing in a Kelly v Vandeaerden style.
Join Audax Écosse and see the world
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Jan waits for stragglers near the Louvre. I was waiting to pounce onto his back wheel as soon as he moved.
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Waiting at traffic lights on the bank of the Seine. Maverick (l) is going to get an elbow if he doesn't let me in. Antonio is fairly lightweight so shouldn't prove much of a problem. I did consider draping a towel over Jan's rackpack to discourage the germans ...
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Then came the notorious D97 (see posts above) and its headwind. This is Antonio after 3 km of the D97 headwind, beneath one of the few trees on the road.
(http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6026/5942876975_308758a11b.jpg) (http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnspooner/5942876975/)
After crossing Orléans, where normal traffic rules were suspended for the afternoon (or so Antonio thought) we had a more relaxing 100km or so along the banks of the Loire to Cosne/Loire, past the chateau at Sully
(http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6136/5942877377_03a5f15552.jpg) (http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnspooner/5942877377/)
and along quiet riverbank routes. Here's Antonio forging ahead:
(http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6143/5943432798_9726e744d6.jpg) (http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnspooner/5943432798/)
If you see Antonio on PBP (Spanish-looking French-speaking in a randonneurs.be jersey riding a red and black Orbea) do say hello - he's a top chap.
André wasn't seen all day. I turned out he had a near miss with a car at a roundabout, which sent his blood pressure up and triggered a nosebleed which wouldn't stop for at least 3 hours despite the help of a pharmacist, so he called it a day.
Cosne was over half-way, and accommodation was in the charmingly typical example of french provincial Hotelerie, the Hotel du Point du Jour. Décor from the 1920s, plumbing from the 1820s. Infinitely preferable to the F1s and Balladins.
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GPS adjustments before the start of day 3, setting the 'Stonking Tailwind' setting to ON.
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DIY breakfast in the supermarket carpark across the road
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The 3rd day has the best scenery
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The Yonne from the climb after Joigny
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The scenery at the LIDL at Romilly sur Seine was a bit of a let-down
(http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6150/5943446312_07eddd288d.jpg) (http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnspooner/5943446312/)
but the picnic of pizza ...
(http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6024/5943449230_19aa429188.jpg) (http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnspooner/5943449230/)
... and tartelette
(http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6003/5943447678_73547beba3.jpg) (http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnspooner/5943447678/)
was what it's all about.
Getting caught at a level crossing usually costs no more than a couple of minutes, but when the train isn't moving, take a picture of it and wait. And wait.
(http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6134/5942896013_0540ba02f2.jpg) (http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnspooner/5942896013/)
but eventually we were on our way through the Champagne vineyards south of Epernay
(http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6140/5942901753_da93377c5e.jpg) (http://www.flickr.com/photos/johnspooner/5942901753/)
to the evening meal at McDo's in Reims
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I rode large chunks of the last day with Antonio and Bernard, and timed my arrival at the Café des Sports in Eghezée to coincide with the last five minutes of the TdF. Walloon Philippe Gilbert's final kilometre surge in the Belgian champion's jersey to take second on the stage and the green jersey went down a storm with the locals.
No ride in Belgium would be complete without a cobbled climb, and our came 17 km form the end, the Eikelberg
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Not the worst cobbles encountered (those IMO were on a fast descent in the dark a few 10s of km short of the Paris control).
I finished with Antonio and Bernard, and Jan and Stan caught us just as we were finishing.
One feature of this ride is the (all-you-an-eat) BBQ and prize presentation - all riders are present (even André who had packed on day 2 turned up to tell of his misadventures), so there's no anti-climax as there sometimes can be at the end of long rides.
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Bernd (D), xrtim and Henry (NL) discussing my bottom bracket, probably. Baseball caps and medals presented by Herentals Tourist Office.
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Many long rides depend on an army of volunteers for their smooth running. This one has Gilbert Maes, who drove the baggage car, bought the food for breakfast and packed lunch, was in charge of room allocations and key codes, was waiting outside the hotel to greet the last rider to arrive and up again at 4 am to get the bikes out and answer any questions in French, Flemish, German, English or (usually) a mixture of all 4. When he went up to get his medal he got the longest and loudest cheer of the night. No wonder he looks tired.
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Breakfast the next morning
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Quick quiz question for those who have go this far:
Which is the odd one out:
A. Radomír Šimůnek, Czech cyclo-cross star
B. Hanka Kupfernagel, 3-time world champion cyclo-crosser, and 2007 world TT champion
C. xrtim
D. Jurgen Van Den Broeck, top Belgian stage racer and TT specialist, 5th overall in the 2010 TdF.
Answer:
D Jurgen Van Den Broeck. All the others have stayed at Jeanine's B&B in Morkhoven. Jurgen Van Den Broeck comes from Morkhoven, so obviously doesn't need a B&B there.
My frame held up over all the cobbles, and got me home again, but I didn't fancy the chances of it surviving another few thousand km with camping gear before PBP, so I've come home to sort something else out for PBP.
If this ride is on again next year, I may very well try to make it a hat trick. A super ride with a unique
atmosphere. Were having a reunion ride in France in August (but there may be a few thousand gatecrashers).