On a flier out and back.
by Sheila Simpson
Paris-Brest-Paris is the classic 1200km event run by Audax Club Parisien only once every four years. The most recent edition was the 13th, in 1995.
Various people had invoked various gods - and those of a meteorological bent knew the French mid-August storm was due - so we were not surprised to be blown to Brest on an easterly wind and return on a westerly - hurrah!
Having missed the PBP atmosphere in '91, with a lonely vedette ride, I opted for the tourists' 22:00 start - up to 90 hours to complete. My friend Francis wasn't riding so I felt beholden to no one and chose as speedy a pace as the legs would tolerate, with plenty of time eating and watching the world go by in controls, and hardly any sleep.
Being short of holiday time, I took advantage of Graham Baxter's Sporting Tours coach/hotel deal. His two coaches had convenient pickups down both sides of the country and our hotel, which was a reasonable distance from the noisy N10, had superb, apparently unlimited food.
Eighteen of us acclimatised on the Saturday with a Paris PROFS 100km ride, out on the old PBP route, two leisurely bar stops, and back on the new - though many missed their way in the homeward lineout and I had to go back next day to check the way through the suburbs.
At the Sunday sign-on there seemed almost as many foreigners as French. The Monday pre-event meal was excellent, though in the case of our group hardly necessary as we had been fed like fighting cocks since arriving. Then it was time to see the vedettes off - Vanessa Bridge, crewing for Dennis Herst, reckoned he could beat Scott Dickson this year. In the event he and 7 others were to stay with Scott and equal his record time of 43h 20m. Whilst Brigitte Kerlouet was to stay with the front runners almost to the end - reputedly peeing through her shorts, to smash the women's record with a 44h 14m time.
There was a long wait for the 22:00 start. I'd expected a mad dash, like the old cyclo-sportif (84 hour) starts, but it seemed quite sedate and I was the one jumping groups until alone on the road, Mike Churton and Brian Saunderson continuing ahead and causing havoc amongst Rocco's gang. Mike was to pay for his pleasure later with Achilles tendon problems.
The first control was at Villaines la Juhel, 220kms - I'd ridden straight through the optional food stop at 141kms, following the hardy Peter Coulson's back wheel, sustained only by the free Maxim bar.
The control food was superb throughout the event, with hardly any queuing. For the first time I got my PBP diet right - in the past I've succumbed to cravings for cooked meats which slow me down considerably - so here is the list, for the record:
Coca Cola &/or 1 or 2 bowls of milk coffee,
Soup or sauce (gravy or tomato sauce) with
Puree (mashed potato) and
Legumes (green beans or peas),
Yoghurt or cheese (sometimes grated on above),
Semolina or rice pud,
Banana, sometimes a nectarine too.
At rest stops I ate the above first and then coffee and a couple of croissants before setting off. There was always some sort of pasta but I like potato when I can get it, for the potassium. The puree and legumes weren't always visible - the expectation being that you chose a meat and then were offered accompaniments - but could always be produced on request. The only variations I made were the addition of a three egg omelette at Brest and chicken breast at the last control, Nogent le Roi, having guessed there would be no food at the finish. Actually I got the last cheese sandwich at just after 01:00 Friday morning, how the others survived until next day I can't imagine. This lack of food at the finish is the only criticism I have, otherwise the event is superbly organised throughout.
We caught the tail end of the vedettes, red frame numbers, before the next control - Phil Benstead, running close to time already. At Fougeres, 303kms, the first ST coach and courier Mark waited for those who wanted assistance. I was carrying everything necessary but took advantage of John Lahiff who had come along to help and went to buy fresh batteries whilst I scoffed. I had a dynamo as back-up but had plugged in 4 D-cells for the first mad dash - and now the legs had gone right off the idea of pushing a dyno.
Through Tinteniac, 356km, and Loudeac, 441km, our brains fried and we dragged along. This first day's heat finished several riders. A towelling cap, soaked in water continually, provided some relief and I was glad to have got into the habit of carrying two water bottles.
Then the second night. I was determined not to stop before Carhaix but this was almost my undoing as the hallucinations came thick and fast in the dark winding lanes - black dogs leapt at us, ghost riders bore down on us, and little black snakes squirmed across the road. I was glad to take advantage of the ST second coach, manned by Graham, for an hour's sleep amongst the luggage. I almost got the sleep/rest right so, for the record, here are the times spent lying down:
1 hr sleep in ST coach at Carhaix, 517km,
½ hr rest on verge outside Sizun, 569km,
1½ hr sleep in good Tinteniac dormitory, 846km,
½ hour rest in the grotty Fougeres dorm, 899km
(where had the first ST coach gone?).
It was a perfect night for sleeping out and many riders had chosen to do this around Huelgoat. There was a secret control - with extra food - on the Col du Tredudon, then it was over the Roc Trevezel to Sizun and a new lanes route into Brest. The control here is a vast improvement on last time's dockside affair but many riders didn't like the food ticket system. I was OK because I knew what I wanted and how to ask for it; others who were tired, in a strange country, unable to see the food before choosing, felt badly treated.
As if by magic, the wind had turned and my legs, ridden silly in the first 12 hours, had recovered. We sprinted out of town and over the Roc, grinning and waving at the riders en route to Brest. I was amazed to see David Pilbeam riding tandem on his own - Pamela had had an accident. Fortunately a retiring rider lent David a solo when he got back to Carhaix. By now there were blue frame numbers, the 84 hr 05:00 Tuesday starters, in evidence.
Through Carhaix, where Benstead awaited rescue, well and truly out of time, and at Loudeac, we once again faced the afternoon sun, this time with a cooler, western breeze. Another secret control at dusk near Illifaut and by Tinteniac we were well into the third night. This ended at Fougeres where Jim Hopper, unable as a trikie to ride with the vedettes this year, rolled in. As cyclo sportif he was 7 hours up on me.
As the third day dawned the wind strengthened and we flew eastward on the roller coaster road to Villaines la Juhel. Then the roller coasters steepened and we crawled to Montagne au Perche. The ticket system here annoyed even me; there was a flat rate for the various categories of food which seemed to make everything very expensive. I paid 37 francs here for what had cost 22-27 francs elsewhere and the portions were niggardly. I must have looked dispirited; a kindly old couple of cyclos took great trouble to explain in simple French that there were only 12 more miles of hills and then just three climbs in otherwise flat country.
And so it was, as we rode into the fourth night through Nogent le Roi, we seemed to be on a gentle touring ride at last - and it was cool enough for longs, jacket and gloves.
At Saint Quentin I should have gone straight back to the hotel to bed but there was too much happening. We had to master the Minitel to find out where various people were. I even used up some of my 1991 PBP souvenir phone card to trace the tandem recumbent, unbelievably still on the road though close to time throughout.
Just three hours sleep before a cruel 08:00 breakfast (can we have a 9 o'clock next time, Graham?) and I was back to photograph more finishers - noting a new event for 14-18 year olds who had ridden the course in 12 stages. And, yes, there was John Brooking, unable to drive but still crewing for son Mark - I'd seen John in a control at night and thought he was a hallucination. An alcoholic picnic on the lawn with Tracy Horsman, crewing for Willesden, and in came Jack, in his 70th year one of our oldest riders. Then there it was, the tandem recumbent, the tenacity of Pete and Noel had got it round, and they looked suitably dazed.
AUK PBP thin top, in pockets: lipsyl, toilet tissue, 800FF(1), credit card, free Maxim bar - bra - Ron Hill shorts, seconds, no lining(2) - fluo loop stitch socks(3) - Sidi shoes with inner soles, Schol arch supports, Look plates - gel mitts(4) - Sam Brown reflective belt .