Paris Brest Paris 2015

 It was in the autumn of 2014 that I first heard about PBP and Audaxing in general, from talking with JV on the return from a Wed chain gang. These conversations were brief but sowed the seed for what was to become the best experience on a bike I have ever had. I have documented on previous posts the journey to qualify for entry with 200,300,400,600km brevets between February and May 2015. These slowly built my passion for long distance riding and took me to far flung parts of the country with some good friends. Along the way I encountered riders who all seemed to be just having a lot of fun, even at 3am looking for a cash machine to validate their route! Some of these I would recognise later at PBP.
An initial group of four club riders was whittled to just Steve Butcher and myself and the reality of setting off to ride 1200km was fast approaching. We had always decided that our goal time would be to finish within 90 hrs (the other choices were 80 or 84hrs) but for a first attempt we didn't want to put ourselves under any more pressure than necessary.

All the pre-ride research said it was an event that was unequalled for the passionate support by locals who came out and offered food and drink along the route and encouraged riders. This proved for me to be the most memorable part. The best piece of advice I found was to be efficient at the checkpoints, and take your bottles with you to refill as it was a long walk if you forgot them.
I soaked all this up and then started to plan what to take. I knew that the challenge was going to be keeping the weight to a minimum but enough to cope with any problem. Self sufficiency was key.
Kit is a very personal choice and I had selected my key pieces during the qualifiers for their comfort. That said I did break all the rules and wear a new set of bib shorts straight out of the box and got away without and problems. I have to praise those Assos shorts for their comfort but am still wincing at the price! Packing for all weathers and eventualities makes it hard to travel light. I took my trusty Revelate saddle bag that can take 13litres and this performed well. On my handlebars I had a double ended drybag (Alpkit) in which I carried a cut down foam mat,blow up pillow and silk sleeping bag liner. Definitely not the most comfortable sleeping option but the lightest and did the job. I won't go on about kit but the Sudocreme and Chamois cream were life savers. Steve carried all his kit in a rucksack and did not report any problems to my surprise. In fact he praises the Lidl purchase as the best £9.99 he has spent! Most riders had a reasonable sized saddle bag/pannier and a lot just had a handlebar bag. Some carried less than I take on a Sunday club run! They must have had support or felt lucky that nothing would go wrong.

Now setting out to ride 1200km was one thing but it was always our intention to ride to and from PBP. Well it seemed rude not to make the most of riding in France and after all it was in the true spirit of Audaxing so that was settled. What was not settled was Steve deciding that we would ride to Paris in a day after the overnight on the ferry from Newhaven. I had not been able to get any and I mean any riding done between the end of June and August because of work and I was going to use the ride to Paris as a warm up and wing it after that. I convinced myself it was 60% mental and 40% physical so the enforced rest would do me good. We tried to sleep on the ferry but the air conditioning left us chilled and the morning light brought drizzle and then humidity. Pushing for Paris in a day is not a problem distance wise but the humidity sapped us and spreading it over two days would have been better. I suffered in the heat and had still to find my legs. We found out just how undulating northern France was and how exposed it can be. Thankfully the wind was light and we arrived at the Formula 1 motel by the evening. This was 8 miles from the start on the edge of a retail park and cheap. That night as we walked to the supermarket there were flash floods and lightning and we wondered what lay in store for us.

The next day we started to see people dragging bike boxes along the roads and the motel was full of riders. There was a coach load from Romania who busily started assembling their bikes in the carpark. We later found out that they had three bikes stolen from the corridor overnight before the start. Why they left them there is beyond me. Ours were in the room. One then rode his wife's Mtb and finished in 80 hrs! and the other two had bikes donated from the local Decalthlon. That was a nice gesture and typified the French spirit towards the ride.
We had two days to rest up and recce the start at the national velodrome and strip out kit to the minimum. We discovered a free bag drop at the start and this took care of the extra bits. On the Saturday there was a bike check and this consisted for me of an old Frenchman turning my lights on and off and rattling my bottle cage! I still have no idea what that was all about. Bike passed it was into the velodrome for the collection of the ride pack, consisting of a frame number , fluorescent bib, ankle timing chip and brevet card. By now the atmosphere was building with riders starting to mass like moths to a flame. It felt comforting to know you we not the only mad idiot and there were 6000 others. Across the site there were accents from around the globe and it felt like you were part of something big.

Final checks and bags packed we had nothing to do but eat and rest. Our start was not until 5.30pm on Sunday and this left a lot of time to kill waiting. It was agreed that we should go to the velodrome, drop the bags and find a place to lie down until the start. All around us bikes kept
coming and the enormity of the task dawned. This was a big deal. There were seasoned veterans catching up with each other and new riders like us not really knowing what to expect. Large groups from different countries posed for team photos. No sign of any such organisation for the UK entrants. We threw out all our plans for number of hours riding and sleeping and decided to go with the flow and decide when to rest as the first night unfolded.

This is actually a recumbent!

As 5.30pm approached we made our way to the starting box with our lettered group. 100 or so riders at a time were moved up and this was it, no going back now. All around the crowd cheered and the count down began. Slowly we edged forward and then over the first timing mat. Out onto the road lined with cheering people. This was it we were off. Out through the Paris suburbs we quickly left the city behind and it was into the countryside and the first night.
There are several compulsory checkpoints en route and you have to get your card stamped and timed. Starting in the evening made working out where to stop difficult. We opted for ride until tired and then sleep regardless of the distance and try to keep in sync with our body clocks. The first sleep was after 221km and after eating we crashed out on rolled up matting at the end of the tables in the food hall. Two and a half hours later it was up and back on the bikes. We left in the morning mist and were glad to feel the sun on our backs. It was part way through the second day that Steve pulled ahead. We had planned to stick together but I never thought this would last the whole way as our paces would vary. I gave in to a 10 minute power nap in a field and then another 5 minutes snooze. Not real sleep but enough to overcome the wave of tiredness and get moving again. I pushed on through to about 2am and gave up looking for Steve. It turned out he had pushed on to Brest a decision he was to regret. I sort of slept for three hours then pushed on through the morning mist into a glorious sunrise and the halfway point at Brest.
I will always remember the mist around the bridge and the feeling of elation at seeing the sea. I decided not to stop at Brest and just get my card stamped and bottles filled. There was a climb back up over a hill called the Roc and I wondered where Steve had got to. I had to keep the pedals turning and was conscious the clock was ticking.
My energy levels were replenished by a coffee and cakes and I got into a rhythm spinning along. This was broken by catching sight of a Hastings Jersey on the side of the road. Finally I had found Steve who was dozing on the verge after his marathon push to Brest. He was a bit delirious and insisted on picking blackberries when I woke him. He had a point they were delicious but there was a small matter of 500km to do.
Reunited we swapped stories of our solo rides and agreed it had been good to ride on our own for a while but it was better to be back together. The cumulative effect of the lack of sleep had got us both and it was good to have someone to talk to. Sleep deprivation was the hardest part of the ride. Highlights of the third day included drafting a combine harvester for about 15km. Not really in the rules but it was too wide to get past and we were not the only ones enjoying the rest. There was a tail wind as well which was gratefully received. We had a panic when later we thought that the distance remaining was too great in the time left. This made us push hard through checkpoints to get back on track. Day three was the longest time I have spent riding. We rode all day and night and only slept an hour before moving on. We were part of an impromptu chain gang for an hour in the night with a




German barking the timings to keep us in line. I do remember Steves voice from the back at one point saying Don't tell him your name Pike! Priceless. We broke out the flourescent glasses at one point to introduce a bit of English humour to proceedings. There were a bunch of riders who called us loco and a few delirious ones who must have thought they were hallucinating. It made us smile and took our minds off the riding.
The generosity of the public en route continued and I am eternally grateful for the coffee and food that saved me more than once.
The longest day and night was soon a memory and another hour of sleep was grabbed to keep our bodies working.
The final fourth night was spent in a sports hall at Dreux after a long drag and heavy rain shower. We had stopped for a 15 min nap about 20km out when the heavens opened and knew we had to move or get cold. Steve had the night before given up his sleeping mat and foil blanket to a Spanish rider. We had a real shock watching as he rode the white centre line weaving side to side as a lorry narrowly missed him. Steve made him stop and insisted he rested or he would get killed. This really brought home the dangers of sleep deprivation. We were later to find out he did continue but retired safely from the ride. Thanks to Steve he gets to ride another day.
You could sense the exhaustion in the hall at Dreux. Riders had the thousand yard stare and moved slowly to get food and rest. We found a space on the floor and dozed for another hour.
We had to finish by 1030am on the final day to get in under the 90 hrs and by now there was nothing going to stop is. Despite craving sleep we found a renewed energy to push the pedals. The rain came hard for a few hours and almost took the edge off the experience for me. Diving into a bar for a coffee saved it and then the clouds lifted and we found ourselves on familiar roads heading for the finish.
After such an epic experience packed with so many little moments to treasure, the end was a bit of an anti climax. They a
They are I suppose? We rode for 88hrs 42 mins and then just it stopped after 1230 km. It is only later that the sense of achievement sinks in and the months of dreaming and preparing have paid off. You get to be part of cycling history in a small but very important way.
We left our bikes outside the velodrome and went inside to hand in the brevet card with its hard earned stamps. Relinquishing this was difficult but the final act of transition from novice to joining the ranks of those who have completed PBP. There were showers and food and another floor to sleep on if you wanted it. We stayed and soaked up the final atmosphere as riders filed in during the day. Each had their own memories and would return to their corner of the world with a personal satisfaction and undoubtably a plan to return. All around I heard people talking about next time.
Yes this is a tough event that demands respect but it is achievable if you are prepared mentally. You need to be bloody minded when it gets tough and push through the tiredness but the reward is a journey that will be yours to treasure long after the legs have stopped working.
PBP completed we took the next two days to ride back to Dieppe and let the legs recover. It felt good to ride onto the ferry and head home. So for anyone reading this who is tempted, even to just ask more, I say go for it, talk to us and get out Audaxing as you never know where it will lead you. You have four years until the next PBP in 2019 so no excuse.

I want to thank Steve for sharing the experience and JV and Nigel for their company on the qualifying rides.

Jon S