Jake Kassen's PBP Ride Report
jake Kassen
I've decided to post and even more boring ride report. The following is
my 2007 PBP dissertation. Sorry if I got anyone's name wrong and I
appologize to the hundreds of nice folks I rode with on the ride who I
didn't mention.
You can also read this and all my other dull ride reports at:
www.jkassen.org
Anyway, feast yours eyes on this:
The crowd at the baggage carousel at Charles de Gaulle airport outside
Paris was enormous so I stood back and the crowded thinned as people got
their bags. After a half hour it was just Emily and I, watching the same
random loose shoe go round and round with no sign of my bright blue bag.
Welcome to PBP 2007.
The chipper Air France people told me my bag would turn up and sent me
on my way. Unlike the four other people on the same plane who didn’t get
their bikes, mine came in fine. But unlike the four other people, I was
missing everything else one needs to go for a bike ride: clothes, food,
and just about every small bike nut and bolt I thought would be safer in
my checked bag.
After some waiting, we took the airport shuttle to the hotel and got our
first taste of the French suburbs. I’m told things are much more
“French” when PBP is not in town, but to me it looked like a condensed
version of New Jersey. Malls, Malls, and more Malls were all within
walking distance. The stores were basically the same and besides the
language, people were pretty much the same. I immediately set out to buy
a replacement crankset, pedals, and all the other stuff I would need to
get my bike (Daisy) riding again. Surprisingly enough, the two local
sporting goods stores had just about everything I needed, and the
amazing selection of cheap bike stuff in the supermarket filled in the
gaps. (You can buy a crank remover, tubular tire, or generator light set
in the supermarket! Cheap too.)
Meanwhile our Hotel, Campanile, was being overrun by hundreds of
American cyclists, mostly from the west coast. I have never before seen
such a collection of cool bikes as I did in the hotel. Everything from
classic steel to carbon was shoved into a medium sized room until not an
inch of walking space was left. Looking at the unique and innovative
ways serious long distance cyclists position their lights, handlebars,
etc, was one of the highlights of the trip. Almost every bike had a good
idea, a cool homemade accessory, or just a comfy handlebar. Emily and I
took pictures for ideas in future projects.
Meanwhile my bike, wrapped entirely in green reflective tape, was
causing a stir. I was shocked at how many people would ogle and poke at
Daisy, then make some comment about how it was a fixed gear. This was
not limited to Americans – in the days before the ride start I was
frequently surrounded by French, Germans, Italians, and others who
wanted to talk about Daisy. The language barrier seemed to make little
difference and either the group would nominate someone to be a
translator or just keep up the barrage of questions and comments while I
was left to make hand motions and point. This was another highlight of
the trip.
(At one point an Italian family cornered me and when I said I only spoke
English, the Father of the group pointed at his teenage daughter and
demanded that she translate. Clearly she had only taken a few English
classes in school and having to actually use what she was taught was
going to be an unexpected quiz. Sorry about that!)
Saturday morning and a hundred-odd euros latter, Daisy was ridable
again. Only being able to find a 52/42 crankset, I was in a much higher
gear then I would have preferred. I was without fenders and bags, but at
least I could ride with a group to a real bike store several miles away.
I ended up buying a cheap 18t freewheel and putting it on the other side
of the hub with the intention of using it with the 42t ring in case a
52x19 fixed gear proved to be too much. I quickly regretted putting it
on as it forced me to fend off accusations that I was really planning to
do PBP on singlespeed.
Surprisingly enough, the big bike store turned out to have fewer small
parts than the supermarket. I was able to buy a few more wool arm
warmers, but atlas, they didn’t have any wool leg warmers. Then, just as
I started getting used to the idea of minimalist Daisy, my bag magically
appeared at the hotel Sunday morning. In retrospect, I would have never
finished without the stuff in that bag.
Sunday was the first day of rain. They canceled bike inspection and we
went straight though to pick up our documents. Once again, we got to see
interesting bike after interesting bike. I never get tired of looking at
bikes and this was bike utopia.
We woke up late on Monday to sporadic light rain showers. When we were
dropping off our drop bags we ran across our friend Cris Conception. He
told us that a group of NERds (New England Randonneurs) were meeting at
a hotel a few miles away and would then go to the start together. So at
5pm I changed my clothes for the last time in a week and we headed over
to see them. Bruce and Glen, their wives, Cris, Emily, and I all had a
nice dinner and set off. While on the way back we got to watch the
80-hour (very fast) group head out. Fun.
We had hoped to get to the stadium in time to be in the first wave of
the 90 hour group, but the line was already half way down the street
when we arrived. After an hour of waiting we inched up to the spot bike
inspection station and finally to the first control where our cards were
stamped. Although our cards said 10:10 it would be another twenty
minutes before we were finally moving.
At 10:30 we were off. Riding down the street at night with several
hundred other cyclists is something that cannot be easily described.
Think rush hour on a freeway where all the cars are moving fast, but
very close to one another. The rain got harder and globs of riders would
pull over to bus stops and overhangs to put on rain gear while others
sprinted to get ahead of the crowd. Pretty soon the snake of taillights
had made it to the flat countryside. All that could be seen was miles
and miles of light with the dark outline of fields on either side.
Not long after we started Emily and I ran across Spencer Klassen.
Spencer is a great guy who, like us, also rides a fixed gear on long
rides. We first met him last year at BMB. Since then, Spencer had
completed the Arrowhead Winter Ultra – a 135 mile endurance ride in the
backwoods of northern Minnesota in the middle of winter on a fixed gear.
The coldest night on PBP would still be 50 degrees warmer then what he
is used to.
We ended up riding with Spencer for about the first 80 miles or so while
the crowd thinned out a bit. We talked about the Furnace Creek 508 (a
508 mile endurance ride trough death valley) and with the flat farmland
around us together with low light and the cool temperatures I started to
forget where I was. At one point a field mouse ran out from the bushes
and my first thought was, “What is a field mouse doing in the middle of
the desert?”
It felt like we were going fast, but still seemed to take a while to
reach the water and food stop. By the time we got to Mortagne it was
raining harder then before. I wanted to push on so we wouldn’t lose our
momentum. We were out in less then 15 minutes – not bad for a PBP stop.
I don’t remember much about the ride to Villaines except that it was
raining a lot and I was starting to get sleepy. We were right in the
middle of the 90-hour group by the time we pulled in. Unlike the other
controls, the Villaines control was right in the center of town and
occupied a full, narrow block. Half the block was used for bicycle
parking on either side while the other half was a walkway. There was a
of congestion with people trying to find bike parking and walk around.
There was a lot of activity, complete with someone talking quickly in
French though a loudspeaker.
Although there was hundreds of cyclists at the control, there was almost
no wait to get our cards stamped. Emily went off to the bar to buy some
croissants while I found a wall to lean against and take a short nap. We
ended up spending a fairly long time at this control, which in
retrospect was a bit of a waste as most of this time was spent walking
around rather then sleeping. After finding the drop bags and changing
into dry clothes, we were off.
When it comes to drop bags, some riders can’t live without them while
others think it is against the sprit of the sport to use them. Emily and
I shared two drop bags and filled them to the brim with spare cloths,
batteries, and food. (Actually I seemed to have accidentally packed both
my ziplock bags of bike food into the same drop bag, but thankfully that
wasn’t such a big deal.) Yet despite all the spare stuff I brought, I
used almost none of it. Perhaps if it wasn’t raining all the time I
would have appreciated more frequent changing of clothes, but as it was
the drop bags were only a distraction. Actually I've been using drop
bags less and less on the normal series and I guess I should just using
them altogether.
It was early morning when we left Villaines and the light shining though
the mist and farmland reminded me of Vermont. Actually, most of places
we rode through reminded me of Vermont. I think PBP and BMB have more in
coming than just being long rides.
Villaines marks the start of the real rollers, and there was a fairly
long climb out of the control. While this region of France may lack the
short, steep climbs we have in New England, it has no shortage of hills.
The hills are just steep enough to get out of the saddle and provide a
bit of a workout. Normally I like these sorts of hills, but soon my knee
was starting to hurt and three more days of climbing like this was not
going to make it feel better. I should add that in two years of brevets
never have I felt any pain while cycling. Thankfully the descents were
neither long nor fast, and riding a fixed gear was not a major
disadvantage in regards to speed.
The ride to Fougeres and Tinteniac was pretty uneventful, or at least I
can’t remember anything important happening. As we left Villaines we
rode with John from Seattle. John’s philosophy on these rides is to
avoid Americans. After all, we do all the qualifiers and most other
1200s with Americans, so why not use PBP as a chance to talk to people
who aren’t from the US. Good idea.
Fougeres and Tinteniac were not as crazy or crowded as Villaines, and we
spent [wasted] time checking in, getting real food, and looking at
bikes. The food at the controls was not only tasty, hot, and filling –
it was cheap. As Americans we’re used to paying a steep premium for food
at special events. But, what we saved in euros, we lost in time. The
lines were never long but we took our sweet time when it came to
shoveling it in. One could argue that the break was good for my limbs
and shorter stops might lead to more pain on the bike. But on the flip
side, we would soon need every minute we could get.
Tinteniac was one of the better controls. Perhaps it was because they
had these delicious cheese and bread sandwiches for only 2 euro. Or
perhaps it was the menu translated into English listing such delicacies
as “Crudeness Salad” and “Potato Vapor”. Each control is run somewhat
independently, and it says a lot about how thoughtful the Tinentiac
staff was to try and translate their menu for the sake of all the native
English speakers. Thanks guys!
At Tinteniac we ran into Cris, Bruce, Glen, and later on, Ken – all
people we have spent time riding with in Boston. These people are not
ridding buddies; these are my comrades. We probably have spent less then
a day riding together when you add up the hours, but when each brevet is
an adventure and you quickly feel a certain bond to those you have
ridden with. Our group left Tinteniac for what should have been a nice
easy ride to Loudeac.
For a while the Sun came out and it warmed up. At one point I stopped to
apply more “Butt Paste,” only to have to sprint to catch the rest of the
group. Bad move. The ride was less than half way over but my right knee
was now seriously hurting. Catching onto a pack of fast moving Germans
might have helped me catch up, but it was not helping the cause with
regards to my knees.
Once I caught back on I had a chance to spend some time riding with Ken
Sacks. Ken and I have ridden together on many Boston rides but have not
chatted much so I was glad to get a chance to talk to him. It seems
nearly all endurance riders in the US have some type of technology job
so talking about academia with a professor of Classics at Brown
University was a nice change. (Ken ended up drop out after witnessing a
horrible bike/car crash outside Brest. I hope he gets a chance to return
in 2011 as he deserves to finish the ride.)
Suddenly it was night. The need for sleep descended on our group
quickly. It started to rain. Cris dropped back. We stopped in a small
town center so Glen could take a nap. Emily and Bruce found a bar that
was staying open late and went inside for some coffee. I would’ve
preferred to keep moving, but not wanting to go on alone I just stayed
outside the bar and just laid down on the sidewalk. (I don’t drink
coffee so I didn’t want to go into the bar with Emily.) I think I might
have dozed off for a few minutes before the bar owner came outside and
became concerned seeing my lying on the sidewalk. He rushed me inside as
I tried to explain I don’t drink coffee and I was not about to have a
beer. Thankfully Glen had awoken and we were just about ready to leave
so I made it out of the bar before things got ugly.
Soon our group disbanded. Emily and I found ourselves riding alone as it
approached midnight. Suddenly something clicked in Emily. Beneath her
pretty smile and casual riding style lurks the power and drive of a
heavyweight boxer with the focus of a laser. Whether she realized it or
not, Emily decided that she needed to be in Loudeac, and she needed to
be there fast. All I could do was try to hold on.
We picked up speed until we were traveling faster then anyone else on
the road, and were passing weary cyclists left and right. I felt like we
were gobbling them up. Gobble, Gobble, Gobble. There was no stopping
Emily. She had energy to spare, which explains how I found the power to
keep up. An hour and 50 cyclists later, we were in Loudeac.
Loudeac was not worth the rush. After riding through a maze of metal
barriers we found ourselves in the middle of a war, and PBP riders were
on the losing side. No one spoke English at the sleep station, but it
didn’t matter – clearly all 400 cots were in use. The cafeteria looked
like a refugee camp. It was hot and stuffy, with the line for food going
out the door. Every inch of floor space was covered with cyclists trying
to get some sleep. Some were in space blankets while other were just
passed out cold. Medical crews carried person after person out on
stretchers. Emily watched as one unlucky rider passed out and fell over
backwards in his chair, hitting his head on the floor behind him. The
emergency workers got another stretcher.
Emily snagged a sliver of floor and curled up to take a nap. After
nearly 35 hours without real sleep I desperately wanted a nap, but
couldn’t find any floor space myself. Outside was not much better –
people had already taken all of the area under the overhang of the
building. I finally settled on a spot on the other side of the
cafeteria. The asphalt was wet and the cold wind was blowing, but that
hardly mattered. I crawled into my emergency bivvy sack, used my bag as
a pillow, and quickly fell asleep.
I could go on about Loudeac, but it is safe to say it was not the
highlight of PBP. Emily and I left about two and a half hours after we
arrived.
The ride to Carhaix was not fun. While the hills are not steep, they are
not small either. The previous short stretches of flat farmland had
become wooded areas separated by narrow rolling roads. There was no
shortage of cyclists, many of whom had been lucky enough to get cots in
Louduac and now had the energy to pass us on the uphill or could float
by on the downhill. To make matters worse Emily got a flat -- her second
of PBP. I gave her my spare tire and started questioning if we’d make it
to the next control in time. My other knee had decided to join the party
and was hurting as well, though not nearly as badly as my right knee.
As the sun started to rise we came across the first “secret” control. I
was thankful for the break but at the same time was worried this would
only eat away at the precious few hours we had to make it to Carhaix. I
tried to hurry up but between the pain in my knees and our collective
lack of sleep, we were going nowhere fast. To make matters worse, we
started to see a number of riders who were headed back to Paris. Nothing
is more discouraging than seeing rider after rider fly down the hills in
the opposite direction, knowing they were more then 75 miles ahead of us.
The real trick to distance riding is to make it through the night. Once
the sun rises, things will get better. Sure enough, by early morning the
sky began to clear and the roads regained some sanity. The hills became
shorter and the twists and turns were fun. We were still low on time but
at least we’d make it to Carhaix on time.
Carhaix was my favorite checkpoint. By the time we got there, the sun
was shining and things looked good. We were only fifty miles away from
Brest. I found a nice spot of warm pavement to lie down on and take a
quick 15 minute nap while Emily used the bathroom. It felt great. We ate
breakfast, tweaked the bikes, and took off. Somehow I hadn’t noticed my
saddle was a good 2 cm too low until Carhaix. The low saddle height
coupled with the fast spinning down hills probably explains why my knees
started to hurt in the first place.
The ride to Brest was also enjoyable. For a while we rode with a French
cyclist and had fun trying to translate back and forth. (Well, Emily
translating.) After what felt like a long descent out of the control, we
came to a long gradual climb that snakes through the woods and around a
stream. We were still going relatively slow and once again I started
becoming concerned about making it to Brest in time. The pain in my legs
subsided for a bit and I wanted to push forward as fast as we could.
Unfortunately Emily was not doing as well and I’m sure my dire warnings
about running out of time were not helping.
The closer we got to Brest the stronger the headwind would become. At
this point headwinds were a nice change from all the other obstacles of
the ride and I didn’t mind. Besides, we’d be getting great tailwinds on
the return, right?
Finally the previous few hours of climbing had paid off. We were now on
the ridge of a small mountain. Miles of uncultivated fields lead off
into the distance to our left while the rocky crest was on the right.
The road flattened out, and we had a breathtaking view. The headwind
didn’t let up, but it didn’t matter – it is for times like these that I
love randonneuring.
We passed a large transmitter facility, and it was downhill from there
to Brest. Of course, the strong headwind was still at work but the ride
was fun. After a while we finally came to a more populated area and were
led down a bike path that connected to a pedestrian bridge crossing the
bay and leading into Brest. To the right was a larger suspension bridge
for auto traffic. It felt like crossing into San Francisco. Once in
Brest proper, we rode in somewhat heavy traffic before climbing one of
the steeper ascents of PBP into the control. But the sun was shining,
half the ride was over, and I felt good.
We didn’t spend much time in Brest before turning around and heading
back to Paris. In the short time we were stopped, the wind had changed
direction and our fabled tailwind would be nothing more than a strong
crosswind. Oh well. (The fact that the wind changed direction in late
afternoon isn’t exactly surprising, and I was somewhat expecting that to
happen as we came into Brest. This is the price you pay for being slow.)
Not long out of the city Emily started getting tired and wanted to stop
for a short nap. I was feeling surprisingly energetic and didn’t want to
squander my energy so for the first time in 600 kilometers we said our
goodbyes and agreed to meet at the next control. I was eager to make it
back to Carhaix.
On the big climb back I just settled into the drops and tried to hold a
constant speed. After a while I looked back and realized I had company –
Noel Howes from Seattle. I can’t say enough good things about the
Seattle folks I met at PBP. As a whole they were all very friendly
people with a true randonneur sprit. You can identify a Seattle riders
all have: their nametag on the back of the bike, custom reflective gear,
and long mudflaps on their fenders. Very considerate cyclists.
Noel and I rode together for nearly 45 miles to the control. It is rare
that I find someone (besides Emily) who rides at the same pace, and it
was nice to have someone to chat with as we passed back over the
mountain ridge and down the other side of the mountain. At one point we
stopped in a small town while Noel adjusted something on this bike. A
bunch of locals saw my bike and quickly formed a circle around me while
they bombarded me with questions in French. I tried to tell them I
didn’t speak French, but that didn’t faze them. Then from the back I
heard a translation – Noel speaks French! Once the interrogation was
over we set off.
I think it was a little after 11pm by the time we finally made it back
to Carhaix. We were within the time limits, but I was not going to build
up a sleep buffer at this pace. I got some food and waited for Emily.
(At the table I overheard a few others riders talking about this amazing
woman riding a fixed gear riding a Raleigh Pro. It is never uncommon to
overhear other riders talking about Emily.)
Emily arrived about 20 minutes later and we ate a quick dinner together.
We ran into Cris who was hanging out with Julie in Bruce’s support van.
Cris informed us of a rumor was going around: because of the rain, PBP
officials had decided to add 2 hours to the closing times of all the
checkpoints, but we’d still have to make it back to Paris within 90
hours. He also told us that Carhaix had a sleep station that wasn’t
crowded so we headed over to try and get the first real sleep of the ride.
We only slept for an hour but it felt great. The cots were comfortable
and they had these thick wool blankets, a corner of which made a great
pillow. When I was awoken an hour after going in I was pretty confused
at first and kept pointing at my watch thinking that the volunteer was
asking me what time it was.
Emily and I left around 1:30 am for the long ride back to Loudac. Once
again, we were short on time if we were going to make it within the
limits we had to hurry. I was not sure if the 2 hour extension was true
and besides, I want to be able to say I completed this thing without any
added help. By this point my knees were really starting to hurt.
[For the record I disagree with the decision to change the closing times
because of simple rain or overcrowding. Part of the sport is making it
to the controls and the end within the time limits. While there is
nothing wrong with being flexible and giving people a little slack,
adding a blanket 2 hours to all the controls goes against the spirit of
the sport -- it gives the faster people more time to sleep and isn't
fair to the countless others who have struggled to make it in within the
time limits or DNFed when they didn't make the cut. Long distance
cycling without time limits is touring. Distance cycling with time
limits is Randonneuring.]
Emily and I quickly caught up with a group which slowly whittled down to
just us and a few Canadians from British Columbia. They were really nice
guys, and chatting kept us all awake. I’m sorry that I didn’t catch
their names.
Our group was not going fast – around 10mph as far as I could tell. It
would rain sporadically, sometimes fairly hard. It was dark. At times,
going through the twisty roads over short hills in the forest gave the
ride a real fantasy story feel. After several hours we came across a
small town with a bar that was staying open all night severing hot
grilled food. Emily and our Canadian companions wanted to stop, but I
decided to keep going. While food would have been nice, I wanted to take
the original time limits seriously. Besides, I didn’t think we were too
far away, and if I got back to Loudeac with enough time to spare, I
could take another short nap.
The remainder of leg was long and hard. While the hills are not
mountains, I still needed to climb out of the saddle and spin fast down
the other side. Not fun when your knees and upper thighs are in great
pain. The course is arrowed, but the markers are not always easy to see,
so I wanted to stay within sight of other riders. Still, I was going
fast enough to pass a number of people, many of who looked to be in
worst shape then myself. Riders drifting back and forth across the road,
unable to ride straight were a common sight.
Loudeac was better the second time. I made it in a little after 6am – a
mere 10 minutes from the official closing time when you consider the
extra hour I received by starting in the third wave. I went right for
the cots and this time I managed to get one. I asked to sleep for a
little over an hour and was out like a light.
When I awoke it was still raining. Emily had arrived but she didn’t have
time to sleep. We had a drop bag in Loudeac which I used to grab some
food. I considered taking my sandals but decided against it, a decision
I would end up regretting for the rest of the ride.
We left Loudeac but it wasn’t long before the lack of sleep caught up
with Emily. We once again split so she could take a quick nap under the
covered entranceway of a building. With my legs in pain and my speed
slowing, I knew I didn’t have a minute to spare if I wanted to make it
to the controls on time.
The ride to Tintenic was slow and long. I don’t remember much except for
getting the chance to meet Phil Chadwick. Phil has been a regular poster
on the fixed gear mailing list for years and besides being an all-around
great guy, he has done some pretty serious endurance events on a fixed
gear. He was riding PBP fixed, although in a much lower gear – something
like 62 or 63 inches. I was very envious of that gearing.
I got to Tinenic within the time limits and about 20 minutes before
Emily. My body was not feeling great but my mind was clear. If I kept
going without spending time at the controls or off the bike, I just
might be able to make all the checkpoints in time and get back to Paris
within 90 hours. Emily, who could easily catch up, wanted to stay and
eat so we said our goodbyes and I was off.
The ride to Fougeres and then Villaines was slow and painful. The
further along I went, the more my legs would hurt. The more I hurt, the
slower I went. The only thing that kept me going was the voice of Pamela
Blalock in my head repeating “No one from New England ever DNFs”. I
don’t know why I think Pamela said this, and furthermore, people from
New England have DNFed on every PBP since 1995. Still, I didn’t want to
be the guy that trained for two years, spent thousands of dollars to
come to France, and then gave up because of some stupid leg pain!
At times I would stop for a minute or two to adjust my saddle height or
something that I hoped would alivate some of the hurting. It never did,
but it was nice to be off the bike. I’m embarrassed to say it but I even
tried flipping my wheel to use the freewheel I had previously snubbed. I
had a lot of fun coasting down a short hill but I didn’t make it ten
pedal strokes before needing to flip the wheel back. Thud. Thud. Thud.
When you have not ridden with a freewheel in months, 2/3rds of the way
through PBP is not the time to start. Perhaps if it had been a much
lower gear I would have been OK, but as it was, fixed was going to be
better for my knees then an equally high freewheel gear.
I made it to Fougeres within the time limit and for once didn’t waste
time. I got my card signed and I was out. Five minutes tops. I wanted
the ride over, and I was not about to waste time eating real food when I
was loaded up with delicious bike Gu.
The closer I got to Villaines the more it seemed like I was off course
or something was wrong. Between the rain and darkness nothing looked the
same. I didn’t remember any of the hills. At one point a Japanese rider
asked me if we were still on course. He didn’t seem happy with, “Well, I
hope so.” Thankfully, we passed though a small town with a bunch of
teenagers shouting and pointing down the road. I couldn’t tell if they
were supporting us or just annoyed at riders stopping in their front yard.
Villaines wasn’t much better the second time. The only food left at the
bar was “biscuits” at 0.25euro. I bought four packages not knowing they
were nothing more then a 4-pack of thin cookies. Finding a spot against
the wall I ate eight cookies and slept for a few minutes.
I left a little after midnight with a huge crowd. Amazingly enough, I
quickly found John from Seattle, the same rider Emily and I had spoken
to after leaving Villaines the first time. He was having digestive
problems, and seemed to just want to make it back. We passed by rider
after rider asleep on the side of the road and agreed that with so
little time left, this was a bad time to take a break. John told me that
the 2-hour extension only applied toward the closing of two controls,
not every control. I was glad to have stuck to my goal of making to
every control without the extension. John also had a copy of the
official cue sheet and knew how to read it. This is a good skill to learn.
At one point John and I were riding fast downhill through a small town.
I was already taking a corner too sharp when I didn’t notice the curb in
the middle of the cobble. My front wheel slid against it, throwing me
and the bike onto the sidewalk. I slid across the sidewalk, coming close
to hitting the metal railing outside a shop. Amazingly enough, Daisy and
I were completely fine. I thanked John for stopping and he thanked me
for waking him up.
My leg pain lessened slightly, and I was riding as hard as I could,
trying to make up some time. Soon I had passed a majority of the group
and was now leading the pack over dark open fields. I saw a town in the
distance and became excited, thinking I had actually gone fast and
bought myself some time. But it was not to be. The town turned out to be
25 kilometers from the real control, and I had a big long hill first.
The next 25k were heartbreaking. With my leg pain in full force, the
fastest I could ride was still very slow. I kept pushing and pushing,
but would crawl along. Phil Chadwick said hi as he shot up the hill.
John passed me with ease. This was the sort of hill I would fly up in
Boston yet here I was fighting with all my strength and running out of time.
I made it to Mortagne around 5:30am. I slept in a chair for a few
minutes before taking far to long to find a bathroom, and then left a
bit after 6am. The sun was rising, and if I kept going I might just make it.
In contrast to the previous legs, the ride to Dreux was fun. We zipped
through a national forest, after which the hills flattened out and it
was smooth sailing. After two years of Brevets, I got my first flat in
this leg. Thankfully my tire was OK (I had given my spare to Emily days
ago) and 15 minutes later I was back on the road. I remember groups of
singing Germans going by. With the end in sight, everyone was chipper.
I met Jack Holmgren from San Francisco and we ended up riding together
to Dreux. Jack is one cool guy on one yellow bike. It was nice chatting
with him and I hope we can ride together again someday.
All the time people would pass me and ask, “Where’s Emily?” to which I
would say I wish I knew. The fact was that I hadn’t seen Emily in nearly
100 miles and time was running out quick. Did she oversleep? Have bike
problems? (Unlikely.) I decided that if I made it to end without Emily I
would wait for her. If she didn’t arrive, I would forfeit the ride take
a DNF. We started together and we would finish together or not at all.
Thankfully it didn’t come to that. Emily the freight-train-on-speed left
the station and was approaching quickly. Sure enough someone passing
yelled out that Emily would catch up soon and a few miles before Dreux
there she was.
As far as I’m concerned Dreux is the end of the ride. If you make it in
on time then you have a whopping five hours to go 40 flat miles to the
end. Still, I wasn’t going to risk it and after getting my card stamped
and grabbing some hot croissants, I was out. Emily stuck around to eat,
but she could easily catch up.
I left the checkpoint with Cris – we were always only a few miles apart
on the road but only seemed to meet at the controls. Soon I ran into
Bruce who was not doing well. He was suffering from a bad case of
Shermer neck and couldn’t lift his head up enough to see the road ahead.
I told him I would ride with him to the end. Meanwhile, Cris went on
ahead, only to be bogged down by one flat tire after another. I gave him
a spare tube and my pump, and Bruce and I were on our way.
The last twenty miles were just agonizing. Every pedal stroke would send
shivers of pain through my entire body. I was starting to get my first
saddle sores, as I had stopped applying the “Butt Paste” thinking I was
too close to the end to worry about it. Meanwhile Bruce was having a
hard time keeping up and I just wanted this to be over. The clock was
ticking, and if we didn’t pick up the pace we might not end up making it
after all. Bruce was in bad shape, but together we pushed on.
Finally the end was really in sight. We had to endure dozens of red
lights, timed perfectly so we’d hit every one. It hurt even more to
start and stop but it hardly mattered – I was going to make it.
1268 kilometers (768 miles) and 89:30 later, I arrived. Emily had gotten
to the finish about 30 minutes before I did and was waiting to take
Bruce’s and my bikes while we went to check in. After 15 minutes of
waiting in line I gave my card to a smiling official who congratulated
me. It was over. I had made it. On a fixed gear!
After we left the stadium, Emily want to get her free drink and hang out
with people she met. I just wanted to go back to the hotel, shower, and
sleep. While I never felt unsteady or overly tired on the bike, I was a
wreck just walking around. I ended up getting lost going back to the
hotel, and rode around SQY looking at maps and trying to figure out
where I was. I just laughed to myself. Here I came so far without
getting lost once but I couldn’t make my way back to a hotel 1/2 a mile
away! Thankfully I found some other people going to the hotel and I
followed them.
I used the last of my energy to check in and order a large beer, which I
chugged. At this point I needed the calories and the alcohol wasn’t
going to make much of a difference. I got our clothes out of our bike
boxes, took a shower, and fell asleep. (While in the shower I
contemplated just lying down in the bathtub, but somehow convinced
myself this was not a good idea.)
Emily actually had to get the Hotel staff to open the door, as her loud
knocking couldn’t wake me. She asked if I wanted to go to dinner with
some of the Boston folks (I left a note asking her to wake me) but I
decided sleep was more important then Mexican food.
So that is my PBP tale. By far the hardest, most painful experience of
my life. But one of the most rewarding.
About the bike:
Daisy is an early 80's cheap Asian Raleigh Sportif made from real
Reynolds 410 steel. (A cheap grade of stainless that is heavy and
rusts.) Nothing classic, valuable, or noteworthy about this bike. I used
a carbon cyclocross fork with a disk brake and rim brake. No rear hand
brake. The handlebars are FSA Wing Pros with Shimano brake leavers and
generic interrupt leavers. (Four Leavers, Two Brakes, One Wheel.) I use
a Brooks B-17 saddle, plastic fenders w/ homemade mudflap, a rear rack,
and SPD pedals. It is a fixed gear with 48x19 gearing on 700x25 tires
which gives me a 69" gear.
For lights I used: A Princeton Tec helmet headlight that fell off and
was lost forever the first night, a homemade 3 x 3 watt Luxeon LED
light, a the Princeton Tec Corona LED light, and a cheap blinky for
seeing signs. Rear lights are generic battery plastic taillights. I
always had plenty of light and never changed batteries.
Stuff I had on the bike: Most things were packed into an Arkel Tailrider
mounted on the rack. I carried a thermal cycling jacket, an O2 rain
jacket, and a thin semi-waterproof wind jacket that I never used. I had
two pairs of warm gloves (never used), cycling gloves, an Alien
Multi-tool, wrench for bolts on axle, tire stuff, spare tires, a
emergency Bivey sack attached to the frame, and a bunch of other
assorted crap. I needless carry thousands of calories worth of extra
bike food.
I wore the same thing for all 5 days. I used Pearl Izumi bib knickers
which worked out fine considering I had never put them on before PBP. I
wore a synthetic cycling jersey, wool arm warmers, leg warmers, a
cycling vest, and the jackets mentioned above. I never removed my arm or
leg warmers. I never removed my wool socks during the ride nor did I
take off my crappy old cheap cycling shoes that were falling apart years
ago.
Random Reflections at PBP 2007:
- Air France can lose your luggage on a direct flight
- Saying the hills on PBP are small is like saying the food at a
steakhouse is healthy.
- I can still pump out 150 miles with very strong leg pain.
- I can ride for 90 hours, 750 miles, with less then four hours of sleep.
- Europeans love fixed gears at PBP.
- Don’t ride fixed gear on PBP.
- Handlebars with flat tops work. (Well, mostly)
- Just get the dessert buffet at the Campanile. And don’t eat there more
then once.
- Bring a freewheel remover, even if you don’t have a freewheel.
Jake "Misspelling is my middle name" Kassen
Charles Coldwell
>
> people from
> New England have DNFed on every PBP since 1995.
Except 2003.
Excellent report, Jake.
Chip
--
Charles M. Coldwell
"Turn on, log in, tune out"
Somerville, Massachusetts, New England
pamela blalock
<
The only thing that kept me going was the voice of Pamela
Blalock in my head repeating "No one from New England ever DNFs". I
don't know why I think Pamela said this, and furthermore, people from
New England have DNFed on every PBP since 1995
>
Well if it kept Jake going, I suppose I should be happy for the credit, but
I think I most likely said something like, the New England brevets are very
good preparation for PBP. Our New England RBAs have a great track record for
selecting dates with horrible weather, and challenging routes, and no New
England rider can get through a brevet series without learning how to dress
for wet and cold rides!
Twenty years ago, I attempted PBP *without* that knowledge. Until then, I
had done all my brevets in the hot sticky south and it just didn't get below
80F in August. When it rained on our brevets, it was a relief from the
oppressive heat. Like many others in 1987, I joined Randonee Abandonee,
because I was simply not prepared for the cold and rain. It has been my goal
ever since that folks know it *can* be cold and rainy and to be prepared for
anything.
I learned my lesson well. I carried warm clothing and rain gear for four
days on BMB in 1988. Of course, it was 95F every day :-) and I did regular
rain dances in hopes of bringing some relief. Subsequent events have been
very different, and warm clothes and rain gear have not gone unused!
Anyway, congrats again Jake.
So did ANYONE do this ride with gears? I (and others I'm sure) would love to
read your stories!
pamela blalock pgb at blayleys.com
care-free in watertown, ma http://www.blayleys.com
Mike Sturgill
>So did ANYONE do this ride with gears? I (and others I'm sure) would love to
>read your stories!
>
>
>
I did, and was quite happy to use them often! Here's my report. It was
written for a non randonneuring audience, so please bear with some of
the explanations.
http://www.azlongriders.com/PBP/PBP07-trip-report.htm
Enjoy!
-Mike
Phil Chadwick
Great report
I doubt that was a porcupine you saw though, unless it had escaped
from a zoo.
Phil
Peter Mathews
spiky road kill was not our much loved echidna. My kids are obviously
opting for hodgehegs - but do porupines occur in Europe?
Seriously.
Peter
--
##################################################
Peter Mathews
Library Planning Executive
Office of the University Librarian
Monash University Library
MONASH UNIVERSITY VIC 3800
Ph : (03) 9905 2192
Mob : 043 999 2130
Fax : (03) 9905 2610
email : peter....@lib.monash.edu.au
Jon Muellner
Being from the southern hemisphere - I got as far as realising that thespiky road kill was not our much loved echidna. My kids are obviouslyopting for hodgehegs - but do porupines occur in Europe?
Phil Chadwick
On Sep 13, 3:38 am, Peter Mathews <peter.math...@lib.monash.edu.au>
wrote:
> Being from the southern hemisphere - I got as far as realising that the
> spiky road kill was not our much loved echidna. My kids are obviously
> opting for hodgehegs - but do porupines occur in Europe?
>
> Seriously.
>
They do, but only in the very south of Europe I believe. Not Northern
France.
If it was spiky, it'd be un hérisson - a hedgehog - which my wife
remembers the word for because it sounds a bit like "hairy son" :)
We were impressed to see quite a few red squirrels, not all flat.
Although these are/were native to the UK, they are now rare and very
restricted geographically - I've only ever seen them in Scotland and
the Lake District. The (introduced) greys are the common species
here, now.
What always strikes me about France (and I've just returned from a
holiday further south there) is how little wildlife you see when
driving/cycling around, and how little you see squashed compared to
the UK. Maybe it has more space, maybe more of it is shot.
Very few rabbits and no badgers were spotted on PBP. In the UK we'd
have been dodging them on the night sections. We did see one fox.
Phil
Adrian Hands, Raleigh NC USA
...
> Very few rabbits and no badgers were spotted on PBP. In the UK we'd
> have been dodging them on the night sections. We did see one fox.
Did you ride through the Parc Etang in SQY? It was teaming with
rabbits...big ones too.
Spencer Klaassen
On Thursday, Sep 13, 2007, at 02:39 America/Chicago, Phil Chadwick
wrote:
> What always strikes me about France (and I've just returned from a
> holiday further south there) is how little wildlife you see when
> driving/cycling around, and how little you see squashed compared to
> the UK. Maybe it has more space, maybe more of it is shot.
>
I too noticed the lack of road kill on the PBP route. We have lots of
roadkill littering the roads in the midwest (I can speak for Iowa,
Nebraska, Missouri and Kansas). I too wonder why I didn't see it in
France.
I read today that during the Tour of Missouri, one rider hit an
armadillo and broke a collarbone (stage 2). Their route yesterday
included parts of our 600 km route and there is a lot of road kill (and
live animals) there.
-Spencer
Barry Moore
there.
RoadiJeff
Great story. Although I started in the same 84 hour group I did not
encounter any rain until after sunrise Tuesday and then only light
drizzle the first morning. I started near the front of the group so
maybe that had something to do with it. It's interesting that two
riders who started at the same time could have such different
experiences with the rain, depending on where they were in the group.
I was also aiming for a sub 60 hour and lost it at the Fourgeres
control on the way back where I wasted 4.5 hours trying to dry off.
Anyway, here's my report from a rider with 27 gears (only used 18 of
them):
http://forums.bicycling.com/eve/forums/a/tpc/f/652104717/m/7611007833
Kent Peterson
On Thursday, Sep 13, 2007, at 02:39 America/Chicago, Phil Chadwick
wrote:
> What always strikes me about France (and I've just returned from a
> holiday further south there) is how little wildlife you see when
> driving/cycling around, and how little you see squashed compared to
> the UK. Maybe it has more space, maybe more of it is shot.
>
I too noticed the lack of road kill on the PBP route. We have lots of
roadkill littering the roads in the midwest (I can speak for Iowa,
Nebraska, Missouri and Kansas). I too wonder why I didn't see it in
France.
The lack of roadkill spotted in France is due to the fact that French farmers and villagers clear the roadkill from the roads. When I rode PBP in 1999, I saw a local person stop, scrape up a road-killed hedgehog and remove it from the road. I also saw local folks cleaning up broken glass along the road.
In the US, most people won't clean up a roadside mess unless they are being paid to do it (a few will, but it's by no means the norm). In France it seems people take a more personal approach to keeping the countryside clean.
BTW my local club, the Seattle International Randonneurs, has adopted a length of local roadway and will be doing periodic clean-up of that particular roadside.
Kent Peterson
Issaquah WA USA
http://kentsbike.blogspot.com/
Phil Chadwick
On Sep 13, 6:13 pm, "Kent Peterson" <kentsb...@gmail.com> wrote:
> The lack of roadkill spotted in France is due to the fact that French
> farmers and villagers clear the roadkill from the roads.
That's interesting, and in some ways a shame because it's a useful
resource for some animals. Here, the red kite is doing well after
reintroduction and it is a carrion eater primarily. We often see them
dining on bunny pizza (we live not far from Watership Down, Art
Garfunkel fans pleaes note :)) They're a spectacular bird to see in
towns.
I do find it hard to imagine all those millions of km of rural C & D
roads being cleaned up by French farmers though. It's a big country.
Phil
Robert Magyar
> From: EMFiel...@googlemail.com
> To: ran...@googlegroups.com
> Subject: [Randon] Re: Beast on PBP
David Buzzee
Kent Peterson <kent...@gmail.com> wrote:
The lack of roadkill spotted in France is due to the fact that French farmers and villagers clear the roadkill from the roads. When I rode PBP in 1999, I saw a local person stop, scrape up a road-killed hedgehog and remove it from the road. I also saw local folks cleaning up broken glass along the road.
In the US, most people won't clean up a roadside mess unless they are being paid to do it (a few will, but it's by no means the norm). In France it seems people take a more personal approach to keeping the countryside clean.
BTW my local club, the Seattle International Randonneurs, has adopted a length of local roadway and will be doing periodic clean-up of that particular roadside.
Kent Peterson
Issaquah WA USA
http://kentsbike.blogspot.com/
Shape Yahoo! in your own image. Join our Network Research Panel today!
Kent Peterson
--
Kent Peterson
Commuting Program Director
Bicycle Alliance of Washington
P.O. Box 2904
Seattle WA 98111
206-224-9252
ke...@bicyclealliance.org
Arnaud Riess
I looked it up and here is the full story:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Armand_Delille
On 13 Sep, 22:13, David Buzzee <d_buz...@yahoo.com> wrote:
> Besides the housekeeping habits of the French, there also is the fact that wild rabbits are nearly non-existent in France. More than a century ago, a small-town physician grew tired of rabbits eating his garden. He knew a little about infectious diseases (but not quite enough) so he infected some trapped rabbits with a form of diptheria ( if memory serves ). Not only did it kill his annoying rabbits, by the time it had run its course it had killed most rabbits in the country.
>
> Kent Peterson <kentsb...@gmail.com> wrote:
>
> The lack of roadkill spotted in France is due to the fact that French farmers and villagers clear the roadkill from the roads. When I rode PBP in 1999, I saw a local person stop, scrape up a road-killed hedgehog and remove it from the road. I also saw local folks cleaning up broken glass along the road.
>
> In the US, most people won't clean up a roadside mess unless they are being paid to do it (a few will, but it's by no means the norm). In France it seems people take a more personal approach to keeping the countryside clean.
>
> BTW my local club, the Seattle International Randonneurs, has adopted a length of local roadway and will be doing periodic clean-up of that particular roadside.
>
> Kent Peterson
> Issaquah WA USAhttp://kentsbike.blogspot.com/
>
> ---------------------------------
Larry Parker
I know, there is no telling what other havoc it could create. Look what
happened when they introduced rabbits.
Larry Parker
--
There's no such thing as bad weather;
just inappropriate clothing.
> From: Arnaud Riess <ari...@gmail.com>
> Date: Thu, 13 Sep 2007 23:29:40 -0000
> To: randon <ran...@googlegroups.com>
> Subject: [Randon] Re: Beast on PBP
>
>
Phil Chadwick
On Sep 13, 10:13 pm, David Buzzee <d_buz...@yahoo.com> wrote:
> Besides the housekeeping habits of the French, there also is the fact that wild rabbits are nearly non-existent in France. More than a century ago, a small-town physician grew tired of rabbits eating his garden. He knew a little about infectious diseases (but not quite enough) so he infected some trapped rabbits with a form of diptheria ( if memory serves ). Not only did it kill his annoying rabbits, by the time it had run its course it had killed most rabbits in the country.
Yeah, but as the wiki link says, myxamatosis is endemis in rabbits
throughout Europe now. You often see really ill bunnies at the
roadside, unable to see or move but still alive.
Some die, but a lot make it and the population as a whole thrives.
Britain is knee-deep in rabbits, France isn't. Maybe hunting kept the
rabbit population down after the disease had removed most of them.
Rabbits are not native BTW, at least not to Britain. The Romans
brought them here as a food supply and they kind of got out of hand.
The good news is that they are the main food source for many of our
birds of prey. This may be why you see far more buzzards, kites etc
here than in France
Phil
Damon
I've seen some interesting approaches to road kill over the years. On
the A9 near Helmsdale, at 5 am, a very quiet road at that time, I have
seen Herring Gulls waiting for Rooks to open rabbit corpses up, the
Gulls can't grip them with their webbed feet and don't have the power
in their bills either, they wait until the carcasse is at the stage
where they can take the offal and force the Rooks off. Kites and
Buzzards have the advantage of being able to carry off the roadkill in
their Talons, safer for them as they don't linger in the roadway,
Rooks are fairly inteligent and understand traffic and are rarely hit.
France is much more heavily wooded and a lot of their wildlife is
concentrated in the woods. England and Wales especially simulate
woodland conditions with hedges and that is why our wildlife is more
visible and goes on roads more. In Scotland the best grazing for deer
is on mown road edges, now running into one of those is big trouble.
Damon.
Damon
iv...@dds.nl
> Very few rabbits and no badgers were spotted on PBP. In the UK we'd
> have been dodging them on the night sections. We did see one fox.
>
I spotted a badger during PBP. Very hard to spot here in the
Netherlands. It wanted to cross the road when I approached together
with another rider. The badger panicked and finally retreated to the
undergrowth.
Ivo