Bikinistry

Gallery: France 2007

tomvasey — Thu, 6 Sep 2007 23:56:00 GMT

Breakthrough Day!

tomvasey — Thu, 6 Sep 2007 23:34:00 GMT

The nights sleep had done little to lift my mood. And I went about my day's preparation slowly, listless, despondant.

I had to get up early as it was, because I needed to ring up Bethel and find out where the local Kingdom Hall was. I was put through to a nice gentleman who spoke good english, and we worked out that the nearest congregation was in Étaples, the hall in a town 2km from there called Trepied. He could only give me the address and phone number of the hall.

So i rang up the hall, and to my forever gratefulness, there was an answer. Of course it was all in French, and I could only mumble along as best I could. I discovered there was a meeting at dix-neuf heures ce soir. I initially took this for 9:10, but eventually realised that 19:00hrs was meant. I then asked (I hoped) to be able to camp in a brothers yard. To my everlasting amazement, he said no, and that there was a campsite nearby.

Flabbergasted, I stuttered some unintelligable French, upon which the brother said goodbye and hung up. I assumed that he had to get on with the ministry group. But it left me in a negative frame of mind. An uplifting of my mood only came when I received various txts from people, and I heard the final song of an album called "Underdogs" by Matthew Good Band.

In the end I put it all down to a tired version of the third day blues. So I packed up, and set off for a very easy 15km flat ride to Trepied, via Étaples. It was great weather, and was only on the road for an hour.

To my extreme suprise, I found the Kingdom Hall almost instantly, and in that moment, with the sun shining down, I took the photo above, and all was okay in the world.

I had half-hoped to randomly meet someone there, but after waiting 15mins, left a note in terrible french to the effect of:

"Expect an english brother tonight. I look forward to the meeting. My phone number is ***********. I am staying at the Parc du Soleil. Please excuse my rubbish French."

Then I went off to find the campsite. It was easily done, and in setting up, I was helped out by the sweetest old lady, staying in a caravan opposite me. She lent me her rubber hammer, then in the sweetest gesture of the journey so gar, practically forced a blanket on me, believing that I would be cold that night. No matter how I pleaded, she was determined to put it in my hands, until I explained it was a small tent, and there was no space. "Vous êtes très gentille."

I cycled back into Étaples, uploaded the pictures, and wrote up the first 2 days, of this journal. Again, the emails helped so much. 2 hours thus well spent, I bought the next Michellin Map I would need - 304, and rushed back to get ready for the meeting.

Shaving was a nightmare, but the meeting meant so much to me, it was worth it. Having bust my other lenses, I put in the last pair, and after getting ready, checked the image in the mirror. Good-looking!

I must have looked a sight, cycling on that road, short-sleeved white shirt, tie blowing in the wind, cycle-clips on my trousers. And thanks to a badly chosen shortcut, I arrived just as they were about to start the prayer, sweating like crazy.

I was taken under the wing by a nice sister called Laure Charbon, who tried her best in 10-year old learnt english to interpret various things for me. I even answered up, it was the Revelation book study, one word "l'humanité". Probably taking some little kids answer. But it received a warm reception, and that was to continue after the meeting had ended. Everyone came up to shake my hand, and we tried our best to make each other understood. On the way out, a nice lady asked me if I had eaten, and I stupidly said no!

I cycled home with wings, and a spring in my step. I went to bed tired, but very happy. A BREAKTHROUGH DAY!

Hardest Day Yet

tomvasey — Wed, 5 Sep 2007 23:00:00 GMT

Without a shadow of a doubt the hardest day I have had to face yet! Right from the start it did not bode well, with a late start, and a very faint feeling in my legs. I did not feel hungry, so I just had a coffee and an apple to start the day. Wrong! (Although the coffee was amazing, it tasted just like black chocolate)

Thus far, one of the things that had kept me going was the txts that I kept on receiving. And receiving one in the morning, I got excited, but it was from 3mobile, and it was the only one I was to receive all day. At this point, I would like to thank all those that have commented, emailed, and sent txts, it is really appreciated.

Instead of heading east and down near the Belgium border, as I had expected to follow in England, I decided it was prudent to start heading in the direction of Rouen, my mid-point destination. This was because I'd not been covering as much distance per day as i thought I would. Plus I realised this trip would be one of the last times I'd get to see Beth for a while, so I wanted to maximise my time spent in Rouen.

Overnight condensation had formed on the inside of my tent, setting a pattern for the rest of the holiday, but packing when well that morning, except for a tear I discovered in my contact lenses. I put them in anyway.

As I set off, I was in no way confidant about my state of energy. And this was proved true, as 4km later, I was completely zonked. Half-way up the first big hill, I had to stop to get my breath, again setting the pattern for the day. I had already said to myself I would never get off and walk up, but I could stop as many times as I liked.

After 12km, just after Coyecques, I was dead to the world, and stopped off for 2 peanut butter sandwiches. I finished off my energy solution drink, and hoped this would help my energy situation. It proved to be little help as the terrain was undulating gradually uphill, and I faced a continuous headwind.

Perhaps the lowest point came after just 15km, juat after Wandonne, when I saw a massive hill up ahead, and it took 3 stops, and the highest gear I've been in yet, and such grit it hurts to remember, to get up. That was where I took the "Conquered" photo.

Looking at my route, I'd only done a third of my journey, and I was dead. I was in despair. Yet, there was literally nothing else that could be done, except to continue, so continue I did, promising myself that I would stop off at the next cafe I saw.

Having risen so much, I had hoped that it would be mostly downhill now. No such luck, as I faced massive undulations for the next 20km. In Guerney, I stopped at a cafe, had 2 coffees, and a mars bar. Then I pressed on, just working through the pain.

For the rest of the journey, whenever I would stop to gather energy to get up a hill, I would pump myself up by singing Bruce Springsteen - Thunder Road, and Born to Run. At one point I deliriously laughed at a visual picture someone had given me, of me cycling along, blaring out Guillemots - Trains to Brazil.

I think part of the problem was that feelings of loneliness started to mix in with the physical pain of the grind. But through a determination I rarely get chance to press to the limits, I got to Maningham, saw the word MONT, and knew that means hill, and thought that the rest of the journey would be undulating, but gradually downhill. Even though there was 18km left of the journey, I had pasted the hardest point.

Even the massive downhill sections proved annoying now, as I knew I would have to gain all that height at some other point. But the feeling as I went down that final descent into Montreuil was great. I had reached my fnial destination, and all it took was a superhuman effort, and a flint-like grit.

But after having risen to the challenge, and settled down for the night, the other feelings started to kick in, and a plan start to develop in my mind whereby I would have an easy day tomorrow, go to the meeting, have some company, and then get to Beth's as quickly as possible.

Once again though, I laid down at night, ate sweets, drank wine, read my book, and had that feeling of contentment.

First Proper Day

tomvasey — Tue, 4 Sep 2007 22:24:00 GMT

My first proper night's sleep in a tent on this trip was light, and broken. But long, and in the morning accompanied by 2 hours of very pleasant dozing. At 10, I decided it was time to get up, and make something of the day. But I didn't realise the amount of packing that was to be done.

Nothing was to be done before I'd had my first coffee brewed on my new Dragonfly stove. It was heaven, sat down, reading my book, sorting out my route for the day, drinking a lovely coffee. Of course this was the last time it was possible, as at the other campsites, there were no chairs to be borrowed. But it would be replicated in a horizontal position.

Now was another essential task for the day. My morning 'consitutional'. Unfortunately, amongst other things I had forgotten to get the previous day (including olive oil), I had neglected to get toilet paper, assuming that all toilets would have some. Now, a tip for anyone camping in France in the future: they don't. Not ever! I used the little cardboard bit from the inside of the toilet roll, and had a thorough shower.

Everything packed away well, the tent a dream to put up and down, long hours of research well spent. Thus I went off, weighed down, but with good weather, and a generally good route to follow.

Coming down one hill was an incident that shocked me into not repeating. I was descending at a goodly rate, 50kph, and decided to itch my nose. Bad idea! With only one hand steering, and so much weight on the back wheel, I swerved very badly, and recovered 30 metres up the road, cold sweat and all. Sorry Ben and Jo, no side-saddle no-handies for me this trip.

Coming into Saint-Omer, I saw a MaccyDees just opposite on the roundabout, and went in for a good meal. The situation was oddly familiar, I was sure I'd been here before in the way home from Jard-sur-mer on a previous holiday. But having only covered 25km at this point, I had to get on.

Again I took a wrong turning, this time ending up on a motorway, which I'm sure I wasn't allowed on. So I took the first turning off, and went through town, a round-trip costing me 8km, but safely.

Coming up to 5:00, I knew I needed to set up camp for the day, but wasn't going to make my destination of Béthune, so I went to the nearest campsite, in Rebecques. Having covered 60km, I thought my day was over. Not so!

This campsite was by far the hardest to find. 1 hour of searching, with a nice french lady showing me the way in her car, with me following on a bike, and a further 30 mins spent searching around the back of a lake, and a wierd walk through a forest, and only then did I get to the campsite.

Even then it was strange, the reception deserted, I seemed to be the only customer they had and the owners going out for the night. Their teenage daughter had to interpret for me, using her school-learnt french. I didn't have a jeton for the showers, so I had to have a flannel wash, and the pasta and pesto dinner that night was disgusting (probably because I used hazelnut oil, instead of the olive variety). But again, I went to bed happy. 65km covered, in 3 and a half hours.

My First Day

tomvasey — Mon, 3 Sep 2007 23:59:00 GMT

I woke up way too late, about 10:30 if I remember correctly. But hey, I'm on holiday right. Repacking was a very good idea, as I needed some space for some food, plus my bike would be on the road, so I needed to make sure that my panniers sat right.

Putting on the top that benji gave me for the trip made me feel a bit more like the cyclist I was going to turn into. My bike was where I had left it locked up in reception, and off I set, snapping the photo above just before.

I had little idea of which road to take, but thought that I should initially head to Guînes, with the intention of reaching a campsite near Saint-Omer. Not so!

I took the wrong road, and quite literally did a circle on myself, heading out of, and then back into Calais. Frustrated, I stopped off to have lunch at a restaurant. Le poisson du jour, and it was great, the waitress good looking. I smashed one of their salt pots though.

After that, there was nothing for it, but I had to circle back, almost back to the hotel to get onto the right road for Guînes. 8km already wasted, so I would not be able to make Saint-Omer today. I decided to head for Ardres.

The ride was not too taxing, not any real hills, and I stopped off at an Aldi, getting coffee, wine (A nice 2004 Saint-Emilion), sweets, and apples. Up the road I also stopped off at the local "Champion", the "SuperU" of the north I think. All was good shopping, and after a limited conversation with the petrol attendant (accompanied by many gestures), I even got some fuel for my stove. Early morning coffee here I come.

I pulled up into the campsite in mid-afternoon and set up camp. The tent went up like a beauty. Then I had peanut butter sandwiches and apples for tea, and settled down for an extremely enjoyable night drinking wine and reading "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich", a most absorbing book it must be said.

I had not travelled far at all, but no matter, for I was content!

Setting Off

tomvasey — Sun, 2 Sep 2007 23:59:00 GMT

As per usual, I had left so much to do till last minute. After a wonderful send off day (Thank you very much by the way), I started to pack and get the last things ready at 9. It was not till 4 the next morning, when I decided that I should get some sleep, as the next day was important. But I still had much to do.

Getting up at 6 was necessary, as I rushed up until 9:15, the time I had set to bike off for Malton. Literally up to the last second I was doing stuff. I had little time for goodbyes, and would be back in 19 days anyway. So without too much ado, I set off on my trip.

The first two trains went well, although I had to run to catch the one to London. The journey was very enjoyable, thanks to company via txt, some awesome music, and some much needed dozing.

Then it went to pot. I was already having to do a complicated method of getting across London because of my bike, but the weekend I happened to be trying that, was the same weekend that the Underground decided to do major repairs on most of the essential lines, and I was only allowed on one line with my bike already.

No matter, a couple of illegal tube journeys, several flights of stairs (hauling a 70ish kg bike up), and a longer bike ride, and I was at the station. I wanted a picture on the London Bridge, so I got a nice German man to take one, then circled round, so I could cycle over it.

I got onto the train to Dover, and a very kind young lady moved so I could be at the bike rack. Sat opposite me was a foreign lady, who comes into the story later.

Getting off the train, I cycled to the Dover Ferry Port, feeling very small on a bike, went through all the checks fine, and was told to wait at lane 110. This I did, outside for an hour, not able to leave my bike, as it would fall over.

The journey was good, I bought 2 maps that would prove essential, and a phrasebook, as I started to realise my french was nowhere near good enough. Guess who I saw? Yes, that foreign lady. I had some wine, and then thought I shouldn't have, because I would have to cycle to my hotel.

This was the hard part. My pitifully rushed maps that I printed out this morning weren't good enough, and I was not used to directing myself in France. Needless to say I got lost, and for half an hour cycled around industrial Calais at 10:30 at night. Adventure! Eventually I asked someone, which was unnecessary, as the road I had led myself to was the right one.

The feeling of relief at Bonsai Hotel was amazing. And guess who I saw there, the same young foreign lady. This was wierd.

I still had much to think about, so didn't get to sleep till 1. But I was there, I had done it. 3 weeks of sleeping an average of 5 hours a night, and only 2 hours on the last night, X amount of money spent on equipment, and enough nervous energy expended to sink a battleship, and it had begun!