2019's bright idea: cycle to Gibraltar via 21 back-to-back centuries. Let's help M.N.D. research, Bloodwise and Blesma! Wagon rolls on Friday 20th September...
So we're dans France...get in! Early kick-off, and Calais looks no lovelier than any other large town on a drizzly and windy Monday morn.
Old town Calais not so bad: the rest though...
Last time I stayed in the Hotel Victoria in 2014, the manageress asked me where I was headed. When I told her, she shook her head disapprovingly and said something to the effect that I'd never make it. There was no malice, honestly.
Fast forward five years and she asks me again, and when I say Dieppe is the destination she grimaces and says "Non...too far!". You gotta laugh, right? Visionary, as it turns out...
Grippy surfaces, windy...any more excuses? Give me a second, hah-hah!
Standard stop-start nav faff behaviour ahoy, before eventually passing through a village with a super market (not *that* super) that was open...breakfast is served!
So much produce being grown here.
You'll see there ain't a bicycle on there. At my speeds they oughta charge rent...
It wasn't until I got onto the D940 (I think) that things improved un peu, not least because it has a properly maintained cycle path with trees that give you a bit of shelter. It also brought me past Etaples Military Cemetery- the largest CWGC cemetery in France. To be honest, I had no idea that it was on the route. It was as immaculate as you'd hope.
Speechless at seeing this.
I stayed on the D940 (was never as kind again!) as long as possible...you see some sights!
Etaples harbour.
Complete and utter.
Autumn is here!
These guys overtook me- not difficult- full of goodwill!
Everyone stops for these loons. And they know it!
Dear me...
Early on in the day I resigned myself that it was gonna go on for quite a while, and it was another slog- I rolled into Dieppe about 7.30pm.
Hello Dieppe!
Usual admin done, then it's out to find a restaurant...and relax! We'll see how tomorrow goes...
Such a great number!
Where we bin, wot we dun!
Before I drop-off (oh, you beat me to it), a great big thank you to everyone who has donated/sponsored: you're tremendous people!
Bonsoir mes amis! Unbelievable scenes Jeff, but the wifi onboard this DFDS ferry actually works, so you can blame them for this latest horror show, hah-hah! I rolled out of Cambridge just before 7.30am: it's never early enough for this caper though.
Halfway-up the first slog of a climb. Joy!
Progress wasn't exactly light-speed which was fair enough but I managed to complicate things by missing a turn to route around Stansted Airport to the east.
I'm sure one day I'll look back on this and chuckle, but at the time it was another time-consuming, doubt-generating faff although it did provide some invaluable off-road malarkey, hah-hah! West ain't always the best...
This was the couth section...adjacent to Stansted Airport!
Some grand gaffs around too. Wimpey have upped their game.
There was the odd shower around too. Any excuse to take a break, right?
Today's schedule was a bit unusual: to get across The Thames, I had to get down to the Thurrock cycle crossing control between 10.30am and 2pm, and they would be available to cart me and YP across. Excellent!
Of course it didn't really happen that way at all...traffic through Essex was a 'mare, as were diversions, road closures and to top it off, the so-called cycle path to take you to it was er, not a goer...
You have got to be kidding me. The air turned bleu for a minute, hah-hah!
Google was sod-all help initially as were any nearby civilians, and the clock was approaching 2pm pronto. Eventually a super-convoluted and possibly not entirely legal route was used, and I made it to the RV point with 7 minutes to spare.
Give them their due, the vehicle rolled-up 15 minutes later and the friendly driver said that I was lucky as he reckoned that a couple of his colleagues would have let the phone ring.
Thurrock RV point. Waiting for the van!
Appalling quality photo. You're welcome.
Avant Garde selfie, almost. Anyway, south of The River. Next stop Dover!
Do your own theme tune nostalgia!
The other reason for trying to keep to some semblance of a timetable was that I had arranged to meet my sister and her other half, Stephen for a late Sunday lunch.
This worked like a charm back in 2014: the slight difference then was that I only had to get down to near Canterbury from London, not effin' Cambridge like today. Honestly, what berk plans that? Er, anyway meet we eventually did on the lovely A2, hah-hah!
Thanks for putting up with the chaos...good effort!
By now I had already resigned myself to missing my original ferry departure but steamed on as best I could to make the next sailing at 7.50pm. In the event, DFDS were as good as- even their onboard wifi worked well and they were serving le peas mushy avec their fish & chips. Result!
I was going *so* fast into Dover that light distorted. Yeah, that'll be right...
For a large chunk of today, I doubted whether I'd see this. Sweet!
YP is tucked away in the corner. Last one out of course.
But guess who gets their very own 'Follow Me' all the way to the exit? To be fair, I did look incapable of following basic signage.
Right then, it's midnight here and time for a kip...take it away, Rod.
Battery was on its last legs about 5 miles before Dover. Fair enough, hah-hah!
Met Office reckoned on a steady easterly down in my neck of the woods today: Met Office was not incorrect, worse luck. Managed to lose my cue-sheet giving me directions and distances (lovingly crafted over a pint of Pedigree last night too) after about five miles too...d'oh!
Can't I just stay here...would anyone mind at all?
The cue-sheet would have been invaluable today because of the ridiculous number of twists and turns involved in staying away from main roads and yet still managing to keep me headed in the right direction. Plan B involves using Google Maps on the mobile but this means so many stops that you wouldn't believe.
Cycling. It's a broad church.
One of my LEJOG mates offered to meet me at about the 50 mile-mark. Initially we reckoned on about 1130am for the RV: I kept messaging him and putting it back, such was the glacial nature of my progress. Think Solheim cup multiplied by Bryson DeChambeau (have I got that right, Hazel?).
Anyway, we did hook-up and Clive was a diamond, staying with me until the county boundary with Cambridgeshire. Although on reflection that might have been to make sure that I vacated his native Northants, hah-hah!
Superb place names.
Tragical History Tour!
Fear not- the gardening midget fella not involved.
Clive was ace at the navigation because it's his local patch: he also steered us through some beautiful villages...you'll have to take this on trust because I inadvertently knocked the setting on my camera which means all those lovely village churches and gardens are just memories! Ah well...
Even gave me money for a pint later on. Sainthood beckons, surely!
St Ives, I think. It'll do, I suppose.
I pressed on and eventually found the cycle path that parallels the certain-death experience that is the A14 into Cambridge. Planet Bizarro though: they have buses running beside it, train-style. Was tempted to see if they'd take the bike, hah-hah!
Dunno what Jack, Stan & Blakey would make of it all...
Done-in as I was, it was great not to have to worry about cars on the run-in to Cambridge. Thankfully Dave was up for a quick visit: great to say hello, even if was brief as I had to check-in to my guest house and then get myself sorted.
Evening Sir!
That's about as much as I know about today: gonna sleep well...and so will you if you've read this, hah-hah!
Hello, good evening and welcome from a place that I'm fairly certain that you've never heard of: Hamstall Ridware...or more specifically, the dining room in The Shoulder Of Mutton inn. Carrot and coriander soup, followed by a steak avec le sauce peppercorn, since you ask. Plus the usual rehydration measures are being employed...
The ceiling of The Shoulder's dining room. Staffordshire, apparently...
Lucky for me that I was able to start a bit earlier than planned- in the event this was invaluable...time just slips away, doesn't it?
Still chilly for a while after the sun stirs.
There's no pretty or easy or pleasant way to get through Preston...you can extend that sentiment to Wigan and its surroundings too, hah-hah! That said, progress was okay and it was a pleasure to eventually get out into Cheshire and some country roads.
The Warburton Bridge. Did well to cope with my weight, going by the looks of it!
There was a bit of company along the way...unbelievable I know but I overtook them!
All very picturesque, innit?
So we're all fine and dandy, relatively speaking...until Stoke. Nothing* against the place and all, but every time I cycle through, it's a flaming nightmare. Traffic, diversions, loony pedestrians...you name it. Maybe I'm just a very slow learner, hah-hah!
(*Time for a Fleabag style look to camera, hah-hah!)
Raised a smile amongst the Friday chaos!
This is about where the wheels came-off, figuratively speaking. After mile 80, everything was laboured, stopping endlessly to check the route and re-plan it, and the effects of the headwind were felt. Diddums!
It was a classic own goal by me because I also neglected to eat: that way leads ruin, an embarrassingly slow century time or more accurately a later time at the bar than one would like!
In honour of PT, whilst I check if I've taken the right road...again!
I'm making this sound like a drama no doubt, but I had no mechanicals or close passes, so frankly I oughta be happy enough, long day or not. They'll be plenty more of them to come.
The one good thing about being slow is that you see the wonderful evening light. Not pictured here, mind.
It's still a buzz when the odometer clicks over to show 100 miles, not least because you oughta be near to that day's finish line. Ho yus indeed!
Don't try and bluff me- I know that you've never heard of this place, hah-hah!
The cycling bit is only half of the deal: it's the post-ride admin and faff that is the difference between this caper and cycling at home, where you can flop down post-shower and generally loll about.
Checking in, storing the bike, panniers off, getting to your room, hand washing that day's clothes, sterilising your water bottles, washing yourself, trying to get the washing dry, and then getting down to dinner...and then relax. It's funny how you get back into the swing of things: Harry Hill was right, you've gotta have a system!
Okay then, we're almost out of time (I'm toast, more accurately) but I had a nice surprise via Twitter. I had tweeted brief deets of this venture to a few pro cyclists in the hope that they might re-circulate my challenge to their fan base, and there exists the slim possibility of donation.
I can't expand the photo, so thank your lucky stars.
Anyway, I did get a donation from someone who is not known to me...whether it's off the back of this or not I don't know. On a selfish note, it's a gee-up to get an acknowledgement from a headcase like TdeG, regardless. His 'not quite as mental' pal Tim Wellens did likewise...cheers guys!
Of course things wouldn't complete without a medium-hard sell. Thank you again...
Even though I thought of this challenge probably three months ago, it's funny how quickly it sneaks up on you- hell's bells, we'll be putting the clocks back soon enough! The totals are ticking over nicely and it is such a boost to see people dig deep yet again: it never ceases to amaze, so good on you.
Yep- especially you!
That's the 'Catch 22' aspect of fundraising: you want to make the whole shebang worthwhile, but equally you really do not want to annoy people by continual or overbearing harassment. You only hope that you fall *just* on the right side of that line, hah-hah!
As the start-time draws closer, you remember how previous trips have gone- both the good stuff and the things that didn't go quite as intended, but you had blocked-out, hah-hah! I think we're talking 50% dread, 50% excitement. Add another 10% for nonsense.
How I think I should warm-up for each stage...
Versus the reality.
Speaking of breakfast, you might remember that I heartily endorse the yellow arches of McDonalds- specifically their oatmeal/porridge concoction...alright, and their Sausage McMuffin. Might as well add in a hash brown while we're at it, rude not to. Anyway, I saw this news item online earlier this week:
Wot, no McDs?
In a cold sweat I immediately checked my route for Saturday: in the event, no re-route required thankfully...
McDs are sod-all use in France and Spain, regrettably: there, the concept of fast food seems to have passed most franchises by, so there won't be a daily visit like we had in the US!
This is based on my experience, not least during the trip that we made in 2010 *from* Gibraltar to the UK. That was quite an experience and I am in the debt of Mr Tony Cersell who dreamt-up, organised and supported the venture.
Tony wondering where on earth we've got to, hah-hah!
You can almost see the hangovers, hah-hah!
Was ok in parts!
Other times, not so much!
It was a good bunch that he drew together: the daily distance, the heat, the terrain, the (sometimes) dodgy accommodation and the inventive culinary adventures all contributed to making it a real test.
The mild bunch, celebrating in Gib before we've turned a pedal.
We made it back in one piece to the official finish in Buckingham, and it was a terrific reception. Tony managed to rope in his local MP to say a few warm words: one John Bercow! Whatever happened to him then?
Orrrrrrrrrderrrrrrrr!
Of course for a couple of foolhardy (read 'stupid') souls, that wasn't the end of the road...I was cycling on up to the North West and Andy decided to do likewise. Think you know glamour? Try Stoke in the rain! Anyway, the whole ride raised a tidy sum for some worthwhile causes...well played T. & Co.!
So that was then...I'd better wrap this up and get back to packing and re-packing and faffing.
Before I do, there was some sad but unfortunately not unexpected news today: the former professional footballer, Mr Fernando Ricksen passed away in a hospice in Ayrshire at the age of 43. Fernando had been diagnosed with MND in 2013.
"The sports world could put more pressure on the pharmaceutical companies," Mr Ricksen said. "This disease is not lucrative enough so it has no priority. If tomorrow an MND epidemic came we would have a cure within a week. It's disgusting but a reality."
Thinking of his family and friends...
Listen- I'm on this recording...me and 2999 others!
