From Rambouillet to Brest#
In the last entry of this log, I left my story just when I was starting to pedal into my first PBP. Before moving on with the story, let me go back for a moment to our original plan for the ride.
Basically, the idea was to ride all the way from Rambouillet to Brest (a bit over 600 km) without doing any sleeping stops. Then sleep in Brest for a few hours and do another stretch of near 300 km until Fougerès, sleep there a few more hours and ride the next almost-300 km back to Rambouillet the next day. We even had 2 hotel rooms booked for those sleep stops, one in a hotel on our way out of Brest (in Plougastel) and another one on the way out of Fougerès.
With that plan in mind, we made some numbers, an estimation on how long it would take us to arrive in Brest. We were going to ride Sunday (20th Aug.) evening, all night long until Monday (21st Aug.) morning and then all Monday. We expected to arrive in Brest some time around 22:00 on Monday. That should give us time enough to have some good hours of sleep before starting the comeback.
Now, back to my story…
The departure was a bit chaotic. We were a lot of cyclists, too close to each other, on a dirt path that went slightly uphill. Some clipped in and started pedaling right away, while others kept walking their bikes for a while (and a few of those not even going straight forward).
As I’ve mentioned a few other times, I’m not used to this kind of rides, with so many people and crowded starts. The fact that we were in the middle of the H start group didn’t help. I had a very nervous and anxious start, but luckily I made it out of the Chatèau without trouble.
And as soon as we left the dirt path and took the road… there it was, happiness, filling my lungs with every breath.
We had met our friend Juankar while queued for the start, and we made a little group at the start, with him, his friend David and Manolo, Ferreiro, Dani and me.
Soon we left the area around the Chatèu de Rambouillet, leaving by the big metal fence we visited when we arrived on saturday. We rode on some nice cobblestones and took the turn left, on a nice road with good tarmac.
All the way out, people were lined up on both sides of the road, cheering us up, taking pictures and shouting “Allez! Allez!”, “Courage!” and a few more things in French.
Considering how chaotic everything felt at the start, things went pretty smooth as soon as we were on the road. I was expecting things to be a bit more scary, having on the back of my mind this reminder “be careful with the groups, last thing you want is get into a group crash this early in the ride”. But riders, at least those in my starting group, were behaving quite well.
We wanted to keep our little group together, we are used to ride together and our paces are usually quite alike. After a while we found our pace and started passing other smaller and bigger groups. Some times people joined us and kept back there for a while, some other times we found bigger groups that were riding at a similar pace than ours and we did stay behind their wheels for some time.
This was fast land, almost flat with some gentle hills, once we got some speed, keeping it rolling was easy. Soon we started to catch riders from groups G and F (the special bikes one). We were passing recumbent bikes, velomobiles and even a fat bike.
This also meant catching some big groups, specially up those gentle hills, where they seemed to be slowing down a bit. Instantly, my brain went back into alert mode, trying not to stay for long in the middle of those bigger groups and risk a group crash.
We also found a few riders stopped by the road, trying to sort things out on their bikes (mech issues, etc) as well as the first flat tires. Every time there was some people stopped to help, so I didn’t have to stop myself.
I started to talk to people around me. People from all kind of different places. I met some spanish guys that came with the FECT, some of them I knew from a group chat we shared back when I was going to come to PBP with the FECT too. I also talked with people from India, UK, USA, France, Italy…
I was excited, feeling great, and got carried in the fast pace. I also tried to keep myself at the head of any group we catched (probably my brain still alert to any possible group crash) which meant I was pulling someone most of the time.
Then a guy (looked like he was from India) approached me and asked me if we should take turns and speed up a bit. It was tempting and I was about to say “YES!” when I looked back for a moment and noticed none of my friends were there. “Sorry” - I told him instead - “Seems my mates are not there, I’m going to wait a bit for them”. He made a “too bad” gesture and pushed on, while I moved a bit aside and let the group pass.
A few minutes later Dani and the others catched me. It seemed Ferreiro was being a bit slower and they had slowed the pace a bit. Too bad, that bigger group we were riding with had the perfect pace. But, you know, no troll left behind!
We kept riding on easy terrain for some more time. As we slowed down, some riders we have passed earlier started to pass us, as well as some fast riders from groups I and J.
The temperature was nice, the roads were nice, people were super-nice… I was feeling great and it totally felt like living in a dream.
But (there is always a but) our friend Ferreiro was being dropped more regularly now. We were riding just fine, starting to pass some riders again, and then someone would notice he was not there anymore, so we slowed down, being passed again by those same riders, until we see him again.
I started to worry.
At first I was worried about him. I expected we all were going to have our low moments during a super brevet like this one, but someone with his experience (this was his 3rd PBP) having a low moment this early? Weird.
And then I started to worry also about our plans and the schedule for arriving in Brest, the hotel we had booked, etc. I was ok with riding evening, all night long and all day long, but the idea of having to ride into a second night for some more hours without sleep was… frightening.
Even being worried, I tried to enjoy the ride as much as possible. With an eye on Ferreiro, I kept talking with people here and there and we came across more weird bikes and vehicles on our way.
At one point we started to ride through small villages and we came upon the first groups of people that had their stands by the road. Some times they were simple tables, some times bigger fair-style stands, some times vans or cars with the trunk open. Every time people offered water, coffee and even food. If we didn’t stop, they cheered us up at the shouts of “Allez! Allez!”, “Bon Courage!”, etc.
In one of those stops, to refill our water bottles, we waited a bit longer for Ferreiro. Then we resumed the ride, but Manolo, Juankar and David decided they were not going to wait any longer, while Dani and I decided to stay with him.
We took turns riding alongside him, trying to talk him out of that hole and get him on a good mood again, but it was pretty useless.
Soon the night was going to be upon us, we did a short stop to put our reflective vests on (even if it was too hot for it, we didn’t want to risk being sight/caught by one of the ACP motorbikes, which would mean a 1-hour penalty in our times). While we were doing so, another fast group passed by us. We hopped on our bikes, but we knew already we weren’t going to be able to catch them.
Anyway, we weren’t alone. You are never completely alone during PBP.
We kept on riding, forming another little group of riders, while the sun finally went down, leaving us in a very, very dark night.
I had Dani by my side at all times, we rode together, side by side. I was happy to be sharing all this with him, we did a long journey together since the start of the year, and riding this together was amazing.
In the darkness it was much more difficult to keep track of our friend Ferreiro and at some point we lost him. It didn’t make sense to slow down, we were getting closer to the food stop at Mortagne au Perche (which wasn’t a control on the way to Brest, but it was going to be a control on the way back to Paris).
We still had to pass by a few villages before the stop. There had been people by the road since we left the area near Rambouillet all evening, but now it was almost 22:00 and there was still people out there, waiting to see the randonneurs passing by.
In one village, a bunch of kids were waiting for randonneurs to pass just to do the wave. Dani and me noticed them with time enough, so we joined them when they started - “WooooooOOOOOooooooo” - they laughed out loud and one of them shouted - “Viva España!” - with a french accent. I’m still wondering how our wooooing gave us away as spanish…
Around 22:30 we arrived in Mortagne au Perche. It was full of people, vibrant, lots of bikes parked everywhere and lots of cyclists walking here and there. There were also those who were walking their bikes and those that simply passed through without unclipping from their pedals (which was our initial plan).
We found the others, Manolo, Juankar and David and we stopped by them, parking the bikes and bringing out one of our bocadillos. They asked about Ferreiro and we told them that we had lost him in that last part, once it became darker around us.
While eating, we discussed the current status of the situation and what we were going to do about it. They decided they were going to keep on, riding at their own pace. Dani decided he was going to keep himself near Ferreiro and, after some hesitation and thinking things through… I decided to keep myself with them.
Meanwhile Ferreiro arrived and parked his bike by ours, removed his shoes and literally collapsed on the floor. He looked completely destroyed.
Dani went to get him some sugary drinks and meanwhile he tried to eat something. With Dani back, the others left (fast stop, as planned) and the three of us started to talk about the situation, what may be happening, what would be the root cause of all this.
Finally, we decided to keep moving. We had been stopped there too long. We picked our bikes and when we were about to leave, Ferreiro noticed something was not right with his rear wheel. Something was rubbing somwehere. After looking at the wheel for a moment and several attempts of fixing the rim brake, we noticed it was worse than what it looked. The wheel was wobbling side to side.
This didn’t look good, at all. We decided to get the bike to one of the mechanics available in the control.
We walked to the mechanics’ stands, passing by the full party going on in front of the control building. There was a guy giving a concert and lots of Benèvoles cooking, doing what looked like a big barbecue.
When we arrived at the mechanic, he looked into the wheel and said that something was not right with one of the spokes and that the wheel seemed to be out of true. Sadly, he didn’t have the tools to fix it. He adjusted the tension of some spokes, including the one he thought was the fault one. He also suggested to check in the next control if the mechanic there may have the tools for truing the wheel.
Note
All this explained in French, as he didn’t speak english or spanish, and considering our level of French…
Finally, around 50 minutes later, we left Mortagne au Perche and got ourselves back into the embrace of the darkness.
Note
One of the things that struck me during PBP night riding was the lack of street lamps light.
I’ve done a lot of night riding during this year, as part of the preparation and qualifiers for PBP, but none of those rides prepared me for what I was going to find in France.
In Spain street lamps are on during all night, specially in villages/towns and roundabouts/crossings. In France, at least on the PBP route, all street lamps were off after midnight.
And we had very dark nights during this edition of PBP, with almost no moonlight and only the light of our head lights to light our way up.
We left as the Three Musketeers, with around 80 km to get to the next (this time for real) control at Villaines La-Juhel, but soon we found some company.
We started to get again on a good pace, passing riders, until we found three randonneurs from USA. Rob and Deirdre Mann and a friend of them which name I have forgotten (sorry!). Rob and Deirdre were doing an amazing work, working like a perfectly greased machine, taking turns and keeping up with a very steady pace.
We joined the american night train and we weren’t the only ones jumping in. Soon we were a bigger group again, which was growing bigger as we were passing other riders and some joined at the back. I was having sooo much fun.
Dani was by my side almost all the time, or at least somewhere where I could find him with a quick look over my shoulder, but I started to get worried about dropping Ferreiro again if we kept up with this fast pace.
As I’ve mentioned earlier, in the middle of the darkness and surrounded by all those powerful head lights, it was very difficult to see if he was or not behind us. So I came up with an idea. Shouting.
Yeah, shouting, you have read it correctly. From time to time me or Dani would shout - “Ferreiroooo??” - and he would reply - “Aquí!” - or - “Siii”.
It worked quite well and I could focus 99% on not crashing into the wheel I had in front of me. That technique also helped making new friends. Shouting a Galician/Spanish surname with a clear galician accent was a good way to tell everybody around you where do you come from.
And so, after some shouting, a guy next to me said - “Hey! un gallego!”. A randonneur from Zaragoza (Aragón, Spain) that was riding PBP with a few friends.
Note
Sadly I don’t remember his name (or any of his friends) but we shared km more than once during the next few days, as well as lots of jokes and laughs in the control stops.
It was 02:20 when we arrived in Villaines La Juhel, the first real control on our way to Brest. And the best of it… we did it, the three of us, together.
It was so good to see our friend recovering, being him again.
We wanted to make this stop as quick as possible, and try to compensate some of the lost time. There were parking places on both sides of the main road entering the village. We parked our bikes on the first place available and then walked a bit to get our booklets stamped.
Then we got coffee and something to eat. Instead of going inside the cafeteria (which was full of people and terribly hot) we sat at one of the big wooden tables outside.
We ate our second bocadillo, then the coffee and pastries we bought in the cafetería. While we were eating, the guy from Zaragoza appeared and we did chat for a while. Some other randonneurs we knew from Spain passed by, either towards the cafetería after getting their stamps or the other way around, about to resume their rides.
Even trying to make this stop quick, we spent 1 hour and 15 minutes in Villaines. When we went to pick up our bikes, we noticed more and more randonneurs were arriving. It seemed we were still ahead of the bulge, the big mass of riders that would fill the controls.
Next control was Fougerès, 90-something km away. Again, The Three Musketeers resumed their ride together, into the night.
As it happened after Mortagne au Perche, we were not really alone, not for long at least. As our pace increased, we started passing riders. This time we were passed a few times by faster riders too, too fast for us to try to stick to their wheels and make another group.
After a while, though, we started to pick up riders, starting to form a group. And just when we were a mid-sized group of randonneurs, the American night train appeared again and sucked us in.
Right. Rob, Deirdre and his friend appeared again, still working as a perfect machine. We hopped on the train and adjusted our pace to theirs, which somehow felt even faster than before the stop at Villaines.
That part of the ride went fast, like in a blur. The pace they had set was really fast. Maybe a bit too fast for riding in the middle of the night, specially when crossing the small villages without any street lights on.
There wasn’t much talking, personally I was 100% focused on not crashing on to anybody (and worried about someone crashing on to me).
We were rolling fast, alternating what seemed like long stretches of road by open fields, with small villages that looked completely empty. Then we crossed several villages where people left old bicycles all lighted up using colorful LED stripes. Too bad we were going so fast I didn’t manage to pick up the GoPro and record them…
We were still playing our little shouting game. A few times, I shouted 2-3 times without an answer, just to get someone else telling me “nooo, not here”. I guess people learnt how the game went and we all made some fun out of it.
Around 05:45, with around 30 km to arrive in Fougerès, we were entering the village of Gorron when we saw lights and a Café open by the road. The Restaurant du Bocage was open and had a nice terrace outside, so we decided to do a quick stop there. The night train was dissolved a while ago anyway and we had been riding with other people, but not really in a group anymore.
The place was nice and the owners, an old couple, were doing their best to get the orders from all the randonneurs that were crowding the place. But the coffee was terrible, very, very terrible. Ferreiro and Dani were luckier than me, the tea seemed to be ok.
17 minutes later we were on our way again. It was still dark, but we knew dawn was just around the corner.
Once again, we left the café without company. Slowly we increased our speed and soon we were passing riders again.
And… guess what? Right, we came upon our American friends once more. This time it was us who caught them, and when we were closer to them, I told Dani that it was time to pay our debts. They had been pulling us most part of the night and I felt like it would be nice to take our turn pulling the group.
So I sped up a bit, passing the group and when I was passing Rob I greeted him (again) and shouted - “It is my turn to pull for a while” - to which he replied - “Sure!”.
I took the lead and started to push the pedals. A bit of light was starting to appear on the horizon, but we still had our head lights on. I kept pushing the pedals, looking over my shoulder from time to time to check if they were there. Every time I looked back, I saw a head light just at my wheel - “Good, they are just right there” - I thought every time.
I kept pulling for a while, until there was enough light to be able to see the fields, houses, etc around us. And then, I looked over my shoulder again and I noticed there was only one guy behind me.
“WTF” - I thought - “It can’t be”, and I slowed down and looked back again.
That head light that was just behind me was this only guy (he looked asian and he didn’t seem to speak english). He looked at me, puzzled, probably wondering why was I slowing down. I asked him about the others, the group, but he only shrugged (not sure if that meant “I don’t know where are they” or “I don’t understand a word”).
I tried to explain I was going to wait for the group, he looked at me puzzled a bit more and then decided to keep on his own.
And I slowed down my pace, looking back from time to time, until I finally saw some lights on the road, coming on my direction.
Luckily those lights were the group I was supposed to be pulling. When they finally arrived by my side, Deirdre got closer - “Wow, having fun?”. I felt totally embarrased. All I was trying to do was to pay back pulling the group as a gesture of gratitude.
I explained that both to her and Rob, as well as Dani. I told them my mistake by noticing that head light behind me. We all laughed and kept riding together for a while more.
With some light around us, we were able to enjoy the beauty of the landscape around us and the villages we were passing through. Like Le Loroux or Laignelet (to mention just a couple of them)
It was very early, so there weren’t many people on the streets. Some of the villages were decorated specially for PBP. Flags, messages on big pieces of fabric, messages painted/written on the road… and here and there, old bikes hanging on windows, trees… wherever. Some of them with colorful led stripes still on.
Villages were very similar to each other. Old 2-story houses, cobblestones and one lovely church. And they all shared the same stone colors on their buildings.
Finally, at 07:22 we arrived at the control in Fougerès. I don’t remember when we parted our ways from our american friends, I guess it was right after arriving, and I’m still a bit sad I didn’t have the chance to say goodbye (we didn’t meet again after this control).
We parked our bikes and went straight to get our stamps. The sight inside that building was amazing. Sun light was coming in from the big windows near the roof, there were huge flags from different countries hanging from the roof and there were people everywhere laying on the floor, which was like a big comfy mat.
Lots of people were coming and going. There was a small cafeteria that was serving coffee, pastries, drinks and snacks, but we decided to go to the other building nearby, where there was a restaurant and we could get some more variety of food.
We got back outside to pick up our bikes. The restaurant building wasn’t that far, but it was on the way out of the control, so better get the bikes with us already than having to walk back up there to pick them up later.
Being so early, I’d expect the temperatures to be lower, but it wasn’t cold at all (at least not for Galician standards). All around us people were arriving or leaving. Some faces were happy, some others looked pretty tired.
We got our bikes and parked them on the other parking, in front of the restaurant, and then we got inside.
It was one of those restaurants that you can find in universities, hospitals, etc. We got on a queue, picked up a tray, glass, fork/spoon/knive, bread… and then we had to choose over a variety of cold or hot dishes, coffee, desserts, fruit, etc.
Ferreiro and Dani picked up a full meal, not a breakfast, but I wasn’t as hungry as them. My body was asking for breakfast, so I picked up cafe au lait, a couple croissants, two pieces of bread, a french omelette and something that looked like cheese cake (and that was indeed delicious!).
I have to admit that we didn’t have to wait for long at the queue, in a matter of minutes we were paying for our food and we sat at a table to eat everything.
We took a moment to check on the others. When we stopped at Villaines La Juhel, they were half an hour ahead of us, and now they were one hour and a half ahead. Luis was one hour behind us and we didn’t have any news about Felipe.
Fully recharged, it was time to get back on the road. We spent 1 hour and 15 minutes in this control (just like in Villaines!).
It was a clear morning, the sun shining already and the mist gone. It looked like it was going to be a hot day, as promised by the weather forecast.
We still had around 320 km to ride before arriving in Brest, a long day on the saddle, and we had assumed already that we won’t arrive there at our scheduled time. I can’t say I was happy about it, but all we could do then was to keep riding, try to get into a good pace, shorten our stops all we could and hope no more issues (either mechanical, physical or mental) would appear.
It felt good to be riding by day again, after that long dark night, and be able to enjoy the scenery around us. Also, as time passed, more and more people started to appear again at the sides of the road, cheering and offering food and drinks.
After a while we joined a small group led by a couple of Italians, which was set on a fast pace. It was a good wake up call. I’m not sure for how long we rode like that, but at that time it felt like a long time. At one point the italians moved aside, stopping by the side of the road and everybody took on their own pace (solo, couples, trios…).
Then we rode a bit scattered for a while. We passed a few riders here and there. Dani and me were a bit faster than Ferreiro, but we knew he was much better now, and that was a relief.
There was still the problem with his rear wheel (we didn’t have a chance to visit a mechanic to get it trued again) but so far it seemed like it didn’t caused too much trouble.
Passing village by village, we were welcomed by the locals. In one of the villages, I noticed there were some kids on the sidewalk. Time to give away some stickers!
Note
As I’ve wrote in a previous entry, I made some stickers with the logo of my cycling club. I brought them with me to give away during PBP.
This was my first attempt on giving some stickers, and I did it quite wrong. I slowed down and stopped by the sidewalk, near the kids. I picked up a few stickers from the top tube bag and gave them to the kids, whom where a bit surprised first, then happy when they realized what was happening.
Suddendly more kids appeared and I gave them a few more stickers… and then I realized I was causing a bottleneck at the entrance of the village. The road got narrower as it was entering the village and I just stopped at a place where cars (and a big truck) weren’t able to pass with me stopped there.
I apologized to the drivers and resumed riding, with all the kids shouting “Merci monsieur!” and “Allez! Allez!”.
I sped up a bit and catched Dani, telling him what happened. “You should be more careful next time” - he told me. He was right, and I thought a bit about how to do it better next time. Also, stopping to give away those stickers could quickly become a black hole eating lots of time.
So, I decided to give it a try to give the stickers on-the-go. Next time I saw some kids by the side of the road, I timed it, picked up a few stickers from the top bag in advance, then slowed down to approach the kids and, with my arm extended, I offered the stickers for grabbing.
It worked just perfect, the kid there got closer as I was passing and grabbed them from my hand and shouted back “Merci!!”.
I did that for the rest of PBP, and worked out quite well. I had brought with me 70 stickers and got back home with 3 ;-D
We won’t ride in a bigger group anymore in this stretch, but before arriving in Tintèniac we formed a small group of just a few riders. One of those riders was Verònique Robert de Massy, from Canada. We rode side by side for a while, chatting, telling each other about our PBP experience so far, plans, expectations… It was super nice to share those km with her.
Dani and I arrived in the control around 10:50, a bit earlier than Ferreiro. We went straight to the parking and parked our bikes. As it happened in the previous controls, there were lots of people around. The sun was shining and there was a big patch of green grass by the parking. The grass looked soooo tempting… in fact there were lots of people laying there, just relaxing or taking a nap.
Again, as it happened in the previous controls, as soon as we arrived in the control area, we lost track of those riders that arrived at the control with us. Somehow once you entered control zone, all that mattered was to go through the control protocol and be done with it, everybody following their own pace for it.
We waited a bit for Ferreiro and then we went together to get our booklets stamped. He told us he was having more problems with his rear wheel, so we went to visit the mechanic. He had the tools for truing the wheel and we just had to wait a bit for it to be ready. While we waited, I had coffee and a croissant (honestly, I can’t remember if I ate anything else at this control).
40 minutes later we left Tintèniac. An improvement over our previous stops… or not, depends on the point of view.
Noon was getting closer and the overall temperature was raising. The sky was mostly cloudless and the sun was hitting hard already.
We did stay together, the three of us, riding with a small group here, a couple of riders there, but not forming any bigger group.
At one point Dani and me lost sight of Ferreiro. It was hot and we were running low on water. But you don’t run out of water during PBP, there is always someone willing to provide you with free water.
We were going up another short hill when I noticed a few people on the right side of the road, beneath some trees. They had a car parked there and a picnic table set by it. We stopped there, in the shade, and got our bottles refilled with fresh water. We did chat for a few moments with them, giving Ferreiro time to catch up with us.
After crossing a few more villages, like Mèdreac and riding up and down hills, we formed again another small group. I noticed that a few of the riders there were wearing the same colors. Their jerseys had the german flag on one arm and I picked up pieces of a conversation in german.
And I decided to give it a try with my almost-forgotten, dusty, german:
“Hallo, wie geht’s?”
They looked back at me, a bit surprised, and replied in german. I tried to follow up in german but at one point I admitted my german was almost forgotten and we switched back to english.
They were really nice and we rode together for a while (sadly, I don’t remember their names or badge numbers :S) talking about our ride so far (as usual). One of them told me this was his second PBP, he had to come back because he had “unfinished business” after finishing over the time limit in 2019. This time things looked much better at that point and he was having a nice time.
They were from a cycling club in Bavaria and he told me about some nice Brevets they organize there (even a beautiful 1200 super-brevet).
Near Quèdillac, where there was a food stop but not a control, that small group got dissolved again. Some riders decided to stop, some others - like us - decided to keep on riding. For a while we were back to riding the three of us alone. We had several others riders on sight, both ahead of us and on our backs, but we didn’t form any group.
We were getting closer to Saint Mèen Le Grand, around 50 km before the next control in Loudèac, when we came upon a level crossing. The railway tracks didn’t look good but there was no way we could avoid them (i.e. jump over them). We crossed carefully… but the luck wasn’t on our side. A few meters after the crossing, Ferreiro told us he had a flat tire (the rear wheel, where else?)
The sun was hitting us really hard, and there weren’t many trees around us. The inner tube on that wheel still had some air (it wasn’t a pinch flat, so it didn’t get totally empty, it was loosing air slowly). We kept on riding for a short while, looking for some shade where we could stop and replace that tube.
A couple km later we found, at the outskirts of Saint Mèen Le Grand, a big supermarket (Lidl). Lucky strike. The building provided us with the much needed shade and, while Ferreiro replaced that inner tube, Dani and I went inside and bought some fruit (peaches), ice cream and drinks.
We weren’t the only randonneurs that decided to stop at this supermarket. Soon a few more riders, including 3 velomobiles, decided to stop there and get some refreshments. Temperature was really hot at that time, everybody was sweating a lot, but nothing like those guys from the velomobiles… they were really cooked inside those things.
I took the opportunity to get closer to the velomobiles and check their inside. I was suprised by how they arranged things in there. All along both sides of the carcass of the vehicle there were spaces where they could pack things up. The randonneuse that was riding the one I was looking at had one side filled with clothes, the other with food and drinks.
When we came out of the supermarket, Ferreiro was still trying to put the new tube in place. It was quite strange it took him so long to fix that flat tire, so we asked him what happened. He had already replaced the punctured tube and put the tire back on and when he went to pump some air into the tube, he used one of those CO2 cartridges… and the new tube got punctured too.
We offered help, but he wanted to fix it by himself, so we sat down and ate the fruits and ice creams.
50 minutes later we resumed our ride, passing finally through Saint Mèen Le Grand, where lots of people were on the streets and terraces, again cheering the riders up (time to give more stickers to the kids!) and then the town of Plèmet.
We were getting closer to the next control, that was just a few km away, when I noticed someone in front of me that looked familiar. What a surprise!, riding in a small group were my friends from Astorga! Sergio, Sergio Pulido, Saúl and Valentín. I sped up a bit and, when I was getting closer, I shouted - “Look who is here!! These are the good wheels!” - They looked back, surprised. We greeted each other and talked for a little while. Not much sadly, as both Dani and Ferreiro passed us fast, riding towards the control. I rode a few minutes with them, asking them how things have been for them so far, if they had a good time, etc.
Then I told them I was going to push it a bit to catch my friends and I wished them good luck for the rest of the journey. Maybe we would meet again later in the ride.
Finally we arrived in the control in Loudèac around 16:00.
We were parking our bikes when Dani checked on the others. Felipe was already ahead of us, as well as Manolo. Luis had sent a message just a few minutes before our arrival, he was having lunch in Loudèac! Dani sent him a message about our arrival, and he replied back asking us to join him at a table in the restaurant.
We got our booklets stamped and went straight to the restaurant area, where we picked up a full meal and went to seat with Luis.
When we arrived at the table, another randonneur was talking with him. Helder, a portuguese randonneur we had met in several Brevets during the past few years. He looked pretty bad. In fact, he was telling Luis that he was going to scratch from PBP right there. He wasn’t feeling any good and he have had a tough time for a lot of hours now. Also, he mentioned something about someone crashing into him while he was stopped on the side of the road.
We tried to cheer him up, to get him out of that bad mood, but he already had make up his mind. So we did the only thing we could do, gave him “courage” and good luck.
Lunch was nice, sharing stories and experiences with Luis. Lots of things to tell, on both sides. Even so, we tried to eat as fast as we could.
Once we were done, we went outside to pick up our bikes. On our way there, we met again my friends from Astorga. This time Ferreiro and Dani took a moment to say hello too.
Sergio told us he was having problems with his bike, and that he left it at the mechanic. They told us about several other mechanical problems they had, which meant several visits to different mechanics in the controls before. We told them about the problems in Ferreiro’s bike, and everybody hoped we won’t have any more serious issues.
We parted ways, they were going to eat something, while we were going to resume riding. But, before going on the road again, I asked Dani, Ferreiro and Luis if they wouldn’t mind doing a short stop at the mechanic. The synapse would do with some fine-tuning of the gears, as they had started to jump a bit and shifting was not working properly.
Note
I know I didn’t mention it until now, mostly because back then, during the ride, I didn’t really think it would be that important, so it wasn’t that relevant neither for the story.
But for the last few hours before this control, it went from something annoying to crackling noises when shifting certain gears, and I didn’t want to risk doing any more serious damage to the drivetrain.
They were ok with it, so I took the bike to the mechanic stands, while they prepared their things and picked up their bikes. They were going to pass by the mechanics on their way out, to leave the control together.
The mechanics were three young guys, with an older lady that was coordinating and supervising them (A.K.A. The Chief). I waited a few minutes until they asked me what did I need. I told them about the shifting problems and that the gears needed some fine-tuning. They told me they would have it ready in 10 minutes, so I agreed on waiting right there.
But minutes passed and they didn’t even touched the bike. The guys arrived and sat on the shade. We waited a few more minutes without much luck, the synapse was still waiting. I noticed my friends wanted to leave and I knew my gears would survive until the next mechanic, no need to keep waiting here forever.
I went to the mechanics again and told them I had to go. They told me it was just “a few more minutes” but I declined, politely, “thanks, but no, thanks” telling them not to worry. I picked the bike and we left.
We left the control with Luis, riding for a while with him, but we all knew he had a different pace than ours. After a while, he told us not to worry if he got dropped, he didn’t want us to slow down and he didn’t want to ride on a pace that wasn’t comfortable for him.
A bit later, we came upon Santy Mozos and the guys from Angel Cycle Works (also from Spain). I hadn’t met Santy until this PBP, but the others already knew him from previous Brevets. Really nice guy. We rode together, with him and his friends for quite a while on our way to Carhaix Plouguer (next control, km 515).
This part of the ride was a bit hillier, with slightly higher gradients (but still not much for galician standards). I took the opportunity to talk a bit more with Santy, share experiences both from PBP so far and the rides we do back home. Santy was saying (as most spanish people I met) that we - galicians - where lucky, because this terrain was very similar to our roads back home, so we should be comfortable riding here.
He was right, at least partially, because back home the hills have higher gradients than in Bretagne.
I was feeling fine myself, even after all these hours riding and the hot weather (which usually affects me a lot) I was able to push it up the hills, so on the next hill that looked a bit more steep and long, I pushed it a bit, leaving them all behind. At the top I did stop, brought the GoPro camera out and recorded them.
A bit later, still riding in the spanish grupeta, we caught another group of 4-5 riders, all wearing the same colors. They were the randonneurs from Alicante (also from Spain). Santy already knew a few of them, old fellows from lots of adventures back home. And just like that, our grupeta grew a bit bigger.
Then, we came upon some other spanish randonneurs (don’t remember from where exactly) and the grupeta got even bigger. We started to look like the Spanish Armada.
I don’t remember where or when exactly, but after some time the armada got dissolved. Dani and me were riding faster and we got together with some other riders, then we had lost the others, including Ferreiro.
We had seen all day people stopped by the road, out of houses, in squares… everywhere. I’ve read lots of reports of previous PBP editions, with everybody telling about this, but it is a lot more impressive when you are actually there.
In one of the villages, we passed by this house where there was a bunch of people sitting outside, having lots of fun. With each group of riders passing by, they were doing the wave.
Exactly as we did with those kids early the previous night, both me and Dani joined them on doing the wave - “WooooooOOOOOooooooo” - raising one of our arms from the handlebars while passing by.
“If we stop there… I bet they would refill our bottles with wine instead of water” - I told Dani. He agreed!
We were riding through the Armorique now. Exactly, the area where the famous Astèrix and Obèlix had their home town and most of their adventures. Passing by villages like Saint Martin des Près or Melèac, everything was sooo beautiful.
The sun was getting lower, sunset was approaching and with it, dread washed over me a bit. The fact that there was no way around riding for hours that night started to stick in my head, bothering me, getting me worried and, inevitably, affecting my mood.
Something inside me wanted to push more, to gain every minute I could gain. But then there was something else pulling me back, telling me I had to stay with my friends. “No troll left behind” I told myself.
I’m not sure if I was aware of it at that moment, but I’m aware of it now. Somehow my mood was indeed changing. Bringing back those memories now, I remember I did talk less from then on, less jokes, and I focused more on get things done. Ride, do the km, stop at the controls more efficiently.
And talking about controls, on our way to Carhaix Plouguer we found the first secret control of this edition. In the village of Canihuel (km 480 aprox.). Dani and me arrived at the control together, at 19:08.
We went inside and got another stamp in our brevet booklets. Then we came outside, making jokes about the control being so secret, and we asked a randonneuse from USA if she could take a photo of us. I don’t remember her name neither, all I can remember is she was wearing a jersey from Seattle Randonneurs and that she was super nice.
When we were about to leave, Ferreiro arrived too. We decided to resume our ride while he was getting his booklet stamped. We reduced the pace a bit, so he could catch up with us. We spent only 6 minutes in this control (great!)
Soon he was with us again and we rode together to the next stop, in the village of Saint Nicolas du Pelem. We entered the village from the west, going up towards the village center and passing a massive church to our right.
This village didn’t have a control, but there was an area with food, drinks and even places to have a rest.
We were late, for our initial plan at least, and Carhaix was just 30-something km away… but we decided to stop for a moment there anyway and eat something.
This stop reminded me of our first stop last night, in Mortagne au Perche. There was a guy playing some kind of old instrument that ressembled like a music box (wooden, with some papers coming in from one side of it and coming out from the other side). There were several stands where food was being cooked (crepes, waffles…) and the area was full of randonneurs and bikes.
I opted for something “light”, as I wasn’t really hungry, so I got a yogourt, a banana and a croissant (always a croissant…! ;-D).
We sat for a moment at one of the big tables and while we were eating, we had several visits.
First our friend from Zaragoza that we met last night on our way to Villaines La Juhel came to say hi. He was doing fine, enjoying the ride a lot, but at one point he decided to go on his own, leaving the company of his other friends. They were riding at a totally different pace, and now he was enjoying the ride a lot more.
Then Santy Mozos came to say hi too. We talked a bit about how was the ride since we split a few hours ago. Everybody made lots of jokes, so we had a good time. He and his friends had a plan very similar to ours and they were going to spend the night also near Brest (and they were also a bit late for their scheduled plan). Before leaving, he told us - “don’t worry, my galician friends, we will warm your beds up for you!” - meaning they were going to arrive earlier than us.
Was it a challenge? a racing proposal? simply a joke?
Whatever the answer may be to those questions, we all laughed at the joke and we saw him leaving, but just a bit before we do the same. We spent less than 20 minutes in this stop, which was also good timing (giving our current situation).
We still had 30-something km to the next control in Carhaix and around 120-125 km to the control in Brest. And, from there to our hotel, there were like 10-15 extra km. It was almost 20:00, which meant barely one and a half hours more of light.
Remember what I said about that dread feeling hanging over my head? From then on it was going in crescendo at a pace much faster than my pedals.
Anyway, we resumed our ride once more (I lost the count of how many stops we did so far!) still riding on hilly terrain (it was going to be like that all the way to the control).
Again, no more bigger groups. We passed some riders here and there, then joined a couple of italians here, a few canadians there. But I had lost all desire to give/maintain any conversation, mood was going down as fast as that dread feeling was rising inside me.
But all that changed, unexpectedly, when I came upon Stuart Blofeld. Stuart, from the UK, was riding an EliptiGO stand-up bike. And I got so amazed by how strong and fast he was going, that I couldn’t help myself and I said - “Hi! nice… mmm… bike? there!”
He replied with a big smile and we kept chatting for a while. The conversation started with the usual “how is it going for you so far?” and a variety of details about how we both have lived this adventure yet, then it moved to our plans for the night and the following days.
Note
It turned out Stuart plans were quite similar to ours. In fact, after PBP, looking at his times and then at his write-up about his PBP experience, we passed by the controls almost at the same hours and we even finished almost at the same time too.
Sadly, we would meet again only once more.
Chatting with him was refreshing. He was so gentle as to explain the details of his bike (even if it probably was the Nth time he had to explain them to some random unknown person during the last “few” hours). We made jokes, we laughed, I had a good time again, totally forgetting our plans, schedule, late times… it was just pedal, talk, enjoy…
At one point, we had a few longer downhill parts, and there is were we left him behind. The EliptiGO bike was nice, but it wasn’t very aerodynamic on the downhills.
We pushed it through and we arrived in the control at Carhaix Plouguer at 21:10. Once more, we went inside the designated building to get our stamps and we passed by the cafeteria to grab something, this time we make it super quick and we didn’t seat to eat inside.
On my way out, I noticed Santy Mozos was at the queue for paying, with a tray full of food on his hands. I couldn’t resist myself, I approached silently and when I was just behind him, I told him - “don’t worry, my friend, WE will warm your bed up for you!” - we both laughed and I pretend to hurry outside.
Outside, the sky was soooo beautiful. The sun was gone, but its rays were still lighting up the sky in different colors. A bit of orange, which mixed with the blue of the sky and the white from the clouds made a nice pink color, reflected on the thousand small pieces the clouds seemed to be cut on.
I was taking some pictures when a voice by my side said - “Pretty, uh?” - I turned and I saw a randonneuse there. I recognize her from a few hours ago, we were riding in a group when I slowed down a bit and let everybody pass while I gave some stickers to a few kids that were standing by the road. When I got back to the group, she asked what had I done back there with those kids. I told her about the stickers and my idea of giving them away to the kids and benèvoles and then we did chat for a while until the group got broken.
Note
Sadly, I can’t remember her name or badge number. I seem to recall she was wearing a white jersey with what looked like the german flag on one arm, but I’m not 100% sure.
I’m realizing I’m really, really bad at remembering names!
“Yeah, it looks gorgeous” - I replied. “How are you doing?” - I asked. And she told me she wasn’t sure what to do. Her initial plan was to go all the way to Brest before sleeping (everybody had that same idea or what?) but it was late now and Brest was near 90 km away. On one hand she was feeling good and she would like to give it a try, but staying in Carhaix and sleep for a few hours was tempting.
I explained I was in a similar situation, but I was riding with some friends and we had a room booked in a hotel after Brest, so one way or another we were going to ride all the way there before sleeping.
Then I told her my bigger concern for riding to Brest without sleep. If suddendly you get tired somewhere during those 90 km, finding a place for sleep would basically mean looking for some shelter (bus stop, church entrance, under the trees…). If she wanted to sleep in a warm, cozier place, it was sleeping there in Carhaix or go all the way to Brest, considering that arriving at the control in Brest in the middle of the night was going to mean no bed available and having to sleep laying on the floor of the cafeteria, restaurant or similar.
In different circumstances, I’d tell her to join us, probably we could make a small group with a few other riders and ride together to Brest. But honestly, I wasn’t sure how the ride to Brest was going to be for myself neither.
We said our goodbyes and she did stay in Carhaix, at least for a little while, while I picked up the bike and left with my friends.
The stop in the control took us half an hour and when we left, there was still some light on the sky.
We had a short hill to climb and then a fast descent on the other side, just before starting the longest climb of this edition of PBP, the Roc’h Trevezel. Near 18 km at a 1.4% gradient (according to its segment in strava).
By the numbers (and confirmed by being there) not really a tough climb.
But my mind was already playing tricks, too tired to see things clearly. The darkness finally came to embrace us. Again, no street lamps, no moon light, no houses with the lights on. Total, complete, darkness.
Except for our head and tail lights, that is.
We were a small group again. I knew Dani and Ferreiro were there, but I had no idea who were the others. Nobody was talking, I guess everybody had been riding for too long without any sleep, just like us.
I remember that, at that moment, I was glad everybody was at least able to ride in a straight line, without showing clear signs of fatigue. “Let’s hope nobody will fall asleep on the bike in the middle of the group” - I thought to myself.
There was this part at the start of the climb where my garmin was showing 0-1% gradient, and we were riding around 28 km/h, but when I looked in front of me, I could tell the road was going up all the time. My vision starting to trick me, it totally looked like one of those 8% climbs.
I remember the night was soundless. Some times I could pick up the breathing of the other riders, the ocassional cracking of a bottom bracket when someone was standing on the pedals, and that sound I love so much, of tire rubber rolling on the tarmac.
And then… the zombie apocalypse.
We arrived in the village of Huelgoat and I started to see bodies laying on the floor around us. On both sides of the road, laying on the sidewalks. I’ve this vivid memory of someone (looked like a woman) sitting with her back on the wall of a house, head hanging over her chest, fast asleep, with a bike leaning on the same wall by her side.
The sight of all those bodies, under the only light of our head lights… totally like a post-apocalyptic movie.
We were lucky with the weather, we had very gentle temperatures at night (nothing like those reports from 2019 when temperatures at night dropped below 5ºC) but I could feel it was colder there, even riding the bike and going a bit up all the time. I felt pity for those laying on the sidewalks.
“I don’t want to imagine how they will wake up” - I told Dani, who was by my side again - “laying on concrete, with the temperature getting colder…”.
“Yeah” - He replied - “and then wake up and get on the bike to do 700 km…”
This was exactly my point while talking to that randonneuse back in Carhaix, falling asleep here on the way to Brest and having to sleep on the ground… it could make a big impact on the rest of your ride (and I bet not for the better).
Our little group started to evolve into a line, more than a group. Then it was back on a group, but with people riding without any order, moving to the other lane… Everybody was tired and a bit sleepy, I guess.
Again, the silence. I started to feel a bit more sleepy. I already had eaten a couple of the caffeine gummies I brought with me. You are not supposed to abuse those things (they can have a laxative effect) so I didn’t risk it with a third one.
And I came up with an idea.
I let myself slid a bit to the back of the group, then I picked up my phone, opened youtube and looked for Survivor’s The eye of the tiger. Then I clicked the play button, raising the volume all my phone could do, and I put the phone in the top-tube bag, speakers out.
I sped up a bit and got into the group again, at the shout of “VAMOS!” - “Let’s do this!!”.
Honestly, it didn’t have the effect I thought it would. Nobody seemed to join in. Well, at least I tried.
Finally we got to the top of the Roc’h. And what did we find there? exactly, people cheering us!. In the middle of the night, complete darkness, there it was, some people with a van, some tables, food and drinks. They even had a couple of loungers to lay down and have a nap!. Simply amazing.
Sadly, my mood was completely destroyed. I didn’t need drinks or food, so I just waited there while the others refilled their bottles. All I wanted was to arrive in the hotel, have a shower and sleep.
I was like the grumpy dwarf from Snow White’s tale.
Note
Another side-note here. I’m short-sighted. I’ve mentioned this already in several of my previous entries/reports in this log. I do wear glasses at all times while cycling, with an adapter that have prescription glasses.
Short-sighted people usually struggle with the absense of light, having problems to see clearly. Add to this that the adapter with my prescription glasses do not cover all the area from the outer glasses… meaning I always have some area uncovered.
That definetely wasn’t helping, at all.
We started the long, fast, descent on the other side, passing the villages of Commana and Sizun. Everybody got to their own pace here and after a while I was riding alone. Dani was ahead of me, out of sight, while Ferreiro was behind, also out of sight.
I started to feel more and more sleepy, tired. All those stories I’ve read from previous editions, about people falling sleep on the bike without even noticing it, came to mind. And I started to worry… and to be a bit more grumpy. “No way I’ll leave the control and go to the hotel” - I told myself - “fsck everything, I don’t want to have a crash now and screw everything up” - I kept talking to myself.
I was struggling, but then I saw a light ahead. I pushed it a bit, having company would be wonderful. If I’d be lucky, maybe it was a talkative randonneur/randonneuse…
When I finally caught that rider… it was Dani! He had lost sight of us and he was a bit worried, so he slowed down a bit. I was so happy to find him. He looked at me, worried, “Are you ok?” - he asked. I told him that I was destroyed and with all my grumpyness at the time, I told him with a very stubborn tone that I wasn’t going to go to the hotel, no way I was going to ride my bike out of the control in Brest like this.
We waited a few more minutes and then we saw a head light coming on our direction. Luckily it was Ferreiro, and we resumed our ride.
We passed Landerneau and Guipavas. Without doubt, this had been my lowest moment during the whole PBP. After a while, they dropped me, and I was alone and sleepy again.
I struggled, pushing the pedals and trying to keep my eyes open. I entered the town of Brest and, riding on a long avenue, I saw two tail lights ahead of me. “There they are” - I thought, only they weren’t my friends, they were a couple of italian riders.
One was short, the other one was quite tall/big. Could it be… could they be Maximilian and Emanuelle?
Note
side-note here, Maximilian and Emanuelle are two italian randonneurs I met while doing the BRM 600 - Santiago. We had talked prior to PBP and they were coming together to do it too.
I approached and kept myself behind, looking at them. They had to be, the short one definetely looked like Maximilian.
“Maximilian?” - I asked, and the short guy turned and said “noooo”, his face being totally like Maximilian’s. F***!! I was hallucinating already.
Luckily the control was just meters away, and I finally made it there, safe, at 01:50.
Dani and Ferreiro were there already, arrived a few minutes before me. We got our booklets stamped right away, as the benèvoles where right there at the arrival, outside.
Then, we agreed on going inside and eat something, have lots of coffee and talk about how to get to the hotel. But before that, I told them my bike really needed gears adjustment now. The problem had been growing worse and worse since the failed attempt to visit a mechanic in Loudèac. Ferreiro said his rear wheel needed some love too, so we left both our bikes at the mechanics and went inside.
Inside we found more bodies everywhere. There were people sleeping at tables, on benches, on the floor… We found a place that looked like an industrial kitchen the organization wasn’t using… the floor was full of bodies.
I got some coffee, a fromage-et-jambon baguette and a croissant (if I recall it correctly, all regarding that stop is a bit blurry in my memory). We sat at a table to eat and talk about our current status, situation and what to do. I’ll spare you the details of the discussion (just trust me when I tell you I can be a very stubborn s.o.a.b., specially in a grumpy state like that night).
While we were talking, our friend César came to say hello, sitting at our table to share some stories.
Note
If you have read my previous entries about the Brevets I’ve done this year, you already know about César, as I shared lots of km with him this year.
This was his 4th or 5th PBP, he is just “a bit” older than us, but has way more experience riding this kind of Brevet.
His visit definetely cheered us up. César always has the best Brevet stories, mostly because he has this hability of getting lost everywhere, just to find his way back later. Obviously, PBP wasn’t going to be different, and he told us about this moment when he took the wrong turn somewhere, just to realize about it like 10 km later. As if PBP wasn’t long enough!
It was good to be laughing again. It definetely helped me getting out of my grumpyness and dark mood.
If I recall it correctly, he was going to try to sleep for a while in the control, somewhere. There weren’t any beds available, so he would have to become another body on the ground and try to get some sleep.
We finished up our meal and went back outside. We passed by the mechanics to pick up our bikes. The mechanic told me everything looked fine, but the cable was a bit slack, he adjusted it and went through all the gears and it seemed it was better now. I paid him 10 euro and we were ready to go.
I was expecting to leave the control alone, only the three fscking crazy musketeers, but I was wrong. Other riders were leaving too. One here, a couple there, another one a bit behind…
We left the city and went towards the coast, but it was so dark that I couldn’t see the ocean.
At least the coffee and the food woke me up a bit, and riding side-by-side with Dani again helped too. “You should have seen your face back there, before the control, when we meet after the descent” - he told me - “you were totally out of your mind there” - I smiled back, it was true - “I’m sorry” - I replied - “I hope I didn’t say anything stupid”.
We were riding towards the famous Brest bridge, where everybody takes a photo, but no photo for us, it was dark and we weren’t able to see anything. Honestly I had hope the bridge could be a bit illuminated, so maybe we could have a nice night view of it. But nope, not a single light on it.
Approaching the bridge to cross to the other side, we were riding on a two-lane road, when I noticed they were doing some construction work on the left lane. A big pile of sand, used when they do that kind of work on roads, was in the middle of the lane ahead of me. I looked at Dani, riding to my right, and said “Hey! what do you think? should I do some ciclocross?” - he looked back, puzzled - “What?” - he replied - “What do you mean… ciclocross?”. I looked back in front of me… no sand, no construction works.
F***!! I was hallucinating again.
Probably the light playing games on my tired brain. I told Dani what just happened and he laughed out loud - “Man, you really need to get some good sleep!”.
12 km and around 40 minutes later we arrived in the hotel. A cheap room in a Ibis Budget hotel a few meters from the road we would take next morning on our way back.
There was a clerk on the desk, we did the check-in as fast as possible and then left our bikes in a room downstairs, as suggested by the clerk (our room was quite small, no way we could fit three bikes in there). There were other randonneur bikes in that room already. We grabbed a few things from our belongings and went right to the room.
We took turns to have a shower and then went to bed. We had a bigger, double bed, and a small bunk bed over it. Ferreiro and Dani shared the big one, the bunk bed was for me. I was the last one having a shower (big mistake!) and when I finally climbed to my bed, both were fast asleep.
I did lay down, closed my eyes and… Dani started to snore so loud, I wasn’t able to sleep. I waited a bit, but no way I was going to fall asleep like that. I thought about going down the bunk bed and try something (hit him hard on the face? ;-D) and see if he would stop. I considered going downstairs and ask for another bedroom… 30 minutes later, I was going down the bunk bed when he moved a bit and stopped snoring. I hurried up and went back to bed, luckily falling asleep in a few minutes…