Monday, April 15, 2019
The McClaren (Months) Days
I was presented with an opportunity of a career change so I've joined the gig economy with a well know supplier of security guards and cleaners and I managed to get my dream gig: cleaning the bogs at the Harlington training grounds. Hanging around pretending to work while watching the players go through their every day drills, getting to lurk at the back of the briefing sessions while emptying the bins or checking out the expensive cars while sweeping up the parking lot.
I was there for April Fool's day when Schteve wandered off a bit earlier than usual with a small box of goodies which had I'd noticed was unopened in the corner of his office and covered in dust. When I went to clean the bogs I noticed that one of the ceiling tiles was a bit loose and after delicately balancing myself on top of the bog seat, I found a notebook hidden away.
Turns out I've discovered Schteve's magic diary and now that I'm not getting paid for a few more weeks I've decided to hawk out some select extracts to the highest bidder. Congratulations to AKUTRs for the winning, and only, bid of precisely £0.00.
5 May 2018 - Might have a new gig next season in the Championship. That lovely Tony chap from London called to see if I'd be interested in a job at QPR but used a big word about Ollie and needing to remove a fence. Only too happy to help.
21 May. Today's the Presser Game: How many questions can you answer using the same words?
Buzz phrases for today are: Good squad, young players, looking forward to coaching them. Just been here a couple of days. Targets set after pre-season. We'll buy players that fit the style. Want to win, style is important. Love the club, followed them since my last time here. Great setup.
Post Presser Analysis: Went well, avoided using "Strong and Stable". Hoping this has set expectations for mid-table this year.
4 Aug: Tough opener, PNE away. Proud of the players, good shape, stuck to the formation and passed well. Didn't score but good transitions and quality. Right way to lose.
11 Aug: Home to the team most likely to win the Championship. Proud of the lads,
16 Aug: Good presser with Les. We had a chat before and he agreed we're buying or not buying expensively, or we're in the loan market. Depends on the right opportunity. Not sure about playing the young lads.
17 Aug: Beat Peterborough and we're off. I've a feeling in my waters we'll get off the mark at WBA.
19 Aug: Orcs have colonised Isengard and torn us apart; lucky to get back to the bus without more injured egos.
22 Aug: Les called, sounded pretty pissed off. Dodged the P45 but Team 1 is lying on its roof in Cheddar Gorge. Might pop round to see Arfur for a new motor.
2 Sep: Return to Brum. Solid formation, none did pass but we didn't pass either. Still, 0-0 means we're on the away board.
26 Sep: Blackpool away in the cup. Looked like we were playing in bare feet on broken glass. Thought that Gossies glorious left peg would help us through.
8 Oct: Derby draw, played well unlucky not to win. Fat Frank looks like he's getting the same for breakfast as his whole squad. Maybe he's competing with Brucie for Fat Manager of the Year. Reminds me I need to book an appointment with the dietician.
1 Nov: Manager of the month. That's me. Shows I'm the best in the division. Onto the sunlit uplands of promotion and Prem glory.
28 Nov: Away draw to Rotherham. Road form is good, passing and playing well. Couple of sloppy goals but we can fix that.
24 Dec: Forest away and 10,000 fans witness me become the first QPR manager to win at the City Ground. Celebrated all night. We're going up.
6 Feb: First manager to get QPR to the FA Cup 5th round in 30 years. Told Les losses in the league don't matter when this happens.
14 Mar: Met with Les to discuss year end thoughts after Rotherham debacle. Told him anything above 18th is an improvement, what with no new players and best young lads out on loan. Will keep plugging away. Asked him to stop calling me Schteve. He will think about it.
1 Apr: Holed up in Trap 2 to get some perspective. We're playing well, formation and passing the way I want, just losing too well. Leeds win was the level we want, just can't find the magic spray to make it happen.
Bollocks, Les is calling for me, wonder what he wants...
Sunday, December 2, 2018
Disappointed
Let's get the good news out of the way. Based on our performance today I can safely book my end of May long weekend. That will be a cycling trip to Mont Ventoux and I'll spend two hours on a very small seat that makes your butt hurt, although I'll be moving slightly faster than Joel Lynch at full sprint. In the process I will be subjecting myself to gut wrenching agony with the distinct chance that I may not make the summit, in which case I will be utterly devastated. Can anyone think of a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon?
Onto the bad news. That feeling of disappointment that comes from watching QPR get outplayed by a team in the relegation zone. You know it well, that feeling you get when we've done well away from home and you've repeatedly watched all the highlights and read all the stories you can on how well we've done and you can't wait to get to Loftus Road to see us in action. That feeling of we could do better.
Like the Brentford game, we started slowly and went 1-0 down at the first attempt Hull made. Teams have figured out that with Freeman playing on the left we're effectively using a 4-3-3 structure and are exploiting the space in the vacant left wing area. Hull pressed and harried us and didn't allow us much space or rhythm and we struggled to make any headway, even with the bulk of possession. Their first goal was a simple set of passing moves to open our defence for Bowen to run in and slot the ball home. Credit for the assist should go to Lumbering Lynch for being too slow to close him down and then showing him the way to goal. Their second came from a corner and was a shambles. Everyone seemed to be intent on pushing at the Hull players rather than watching the ball. With no one jumping for the ball it just needed a slight contact to nudge past Lumley. Looks like our defenders will be back to basics for a Monday morning defence boot camp.
At two down it felt like there was a long and painful afternoon ahead, sat in a cramped small seat watching Joel Lynch being out sprinted by the Hull forwards. But a quick response from Pav to get a goal back lifted spirits. We had figured out that their left side was as good as ours and started to pass the ball to hooped shirts, and some neat passing moves that created threats every time we had the ball forward. With Pav, Angel and Eze now warmed up it seemed we were the more likely team to score. As the pressure increased on the right, Bidwell and Freeman started to get more space on the left and we started to stretch the Hull defence. We forced the Hull keeper into action and he needed to make two fantastic saves to deny Wells and Eze. Then the woodwork rescued Hull from an equaliser after a smashing 30 yard Rangel strike.
Half time 2-1 to Hull. We'd recovered from Derby and Brentford to win, what would be different this time? Hull made a double substitution at half time to shore up their left side of defence and that paid dividends as they weathered the first fifteen minutes of pressure and we failed to capitalise with a goal. Schteve gambled by replacing Cameron for Hemed. With our defensive screen removed, Hull dutifully scored and at 3-1 it was pretty much game over. The last role of the die were throwing Matt Smith and Osayi-Samuel into the mix. BOS did well in his cameo, getting loose on the right to create the melee that resulted in Freeman's goal.
Match Verdict. Not good enough to for the playoffs. Overall rating today is 6/10 as a team. A final Freeman free kick that just missed the upright epitomized our performance. Good, but not good enough.
Referee Analysis: 3/10 Idiosyncratic performance and didn't do anywhere near enough to stop Hull wasting time for throw ins, goal kicks and fake injuries. Best moments were giving a drop ball for a non-free kick and then playing a Hull advantage where they failed to score and bringing the ball back to the original free kick at the half way line. He did seem keen to make the rules up about tackling as he went along. Our man was ably supported by a linesman at the Loft end who was unclear on the offside rule and equally unsure about the difference between ball to hand and hand to ball when clearing goal bound efforts. This only added to the frustration of an afternoon when our overall performance was not up scratch.
Onto the bad news. That feeling of disappointment that comes from watching QPR get outplayed by a team in the relegation zone. You know it well, that feeling you get when we've done well away from home and you've repeatedly watched all the highlights and read all the stories you can on how well we've done and you can't wait to get to Loftus Road to see us in action. That feeling of we could do better.
Like the Brentford game, we started slowly and went 1-0 down at the first attempt Hull made. Teams have figured out that with Freeman playing on the left we're effectively using a 4-3-3 structure and are exploiting the space in the vacant left wing area. Hull pressed and harried us and didn't allow us much space or rhythm and we struggled to make any headway, even with the bulk of possession. Their first goal was a simple set of passing moves to open our defence for Bowen to run in and slot the ball home. Credit for the assist should go to Lumbering Lynch for being too slow to close him down and then showing him the way to goal. Their second came from a corner and was a shambles. Everyone seemed to be intent on pushing at the Hull players rather than watching the ball. With no one jumping for the ball it just needed a slight contact to nudge past Lumley. Looks like our defenders will be back to basics for a Monday morning defence boot camp.
At two down it felt like there was a long and painful afternoon ahead, sat in a cramped small seat watching Joel Lynch being out sprinted by the Hull forwards. But a quick response from Pav to get a goal back lifted spirits. We had figured out that their left side was as good as ours and started to pass the ball to hooped shirts, and some neat passing moves that created threats every time we had the ball forward. With Pav, Angel and Eze now warmed up it seemed we were the more likely team to score. As the pressure increased on the right, Bidwell and Freeman started to get more space on the left and we started to stretch the Hull defence. We forced the Hull keeper into action and he needed to make two fantastic saves to deny Wells and Eze. Then the woodwork rescued Hull from an equaliser after a smashing 30 yard Rangel strike.
Half time 2-1 to Hull. We'd recovered from Derby and Brentford to win, what would be different this time? Hull made a double substitution at half time to shore up their left side of defence and that paid dividends as they weathered the first fifteen minutes of pressure and we failed to capitalise with a goal. Schteve gambled by replacing Cameron for Hemed. With our defensive screen removed, Hull dutifully scored and at 3-1 it was pretty much game over. The last role of the die were throwing Matt Smith and Osayi-Samuel into the mix. BOS did well in his cameo, getting loose on the right to create the melee that resulted in Freeman's goal.
Match Verdict. Not good enough to for the playoffs. Overall rating today is 6/10 as a team. A final Freeman free kick that just missed the upright epitomized our performance. Good, but not good enough.
Referee Analysis: 3/10 Idiosyncratic performance and didn't do anywhere near enough to stop Hull wasting time for throw ins, goal kicks and fake injuries. Best moments were giving a drop ball for a non-free kick and then playing a Hull advantage where they failed to score and bringing the ball back to the original free kick at the half way line. He did seem keen to make the rules up about tackling as he went along. Our man was ably supported by a linesman at the Loft end who was unclear on the offside rule and equally unsure about the difference between ball to hand and hand to ball when clearing goal bound efforts. This only added to the frustration of an afternoon when our overall performance was not up scratch.
Monday, November 19, 2018
Another International Break
A strange but compelling time to be a QPR supporter. We've moved on from worst ever start to a season to within a game of the playoff places. In between we've fluffed a chance for a Big Cup Game and failed to show up at Swansea. The season turned with a classy win against Millwall, with the best display of football from us for some seasons. Stuffing the Villans and the determined draw against Derby shows that team moral has improved and there is a desire to win. Heading into the international break, we're just 2 points from a playoff spot. Be still my beating heart.
Against Brentford, touted as the best team we'll play all season, we started brightly but struggled to get into the game. Finishing second best at 1-0 at half time. Then an amazing burst of three goals in ten minutes buried Brentford and had the ground rocking as the "ole's" rang out. Loftus Road at its finest, passionate, fiery best. One of those Saturdays when nothing else matters. One of those Saturdays that you don't want to end.
Key players for us were Lumley and Pav. Lumley is an exciting young prospect and one who should have a long career between with the Number 1 jersey on his back. Pav makes our right hand side stronger, faster and more effective.
While we struggled to get hold of the game in the first half, we let Brentford through a gap and Lumley parried Benrhama's shot straight at the divisions top scorer Maupay who duly put the rebound away. In the second half, Lumley made some smart saves to keep Brentford out; his positioning is very good and at 6'5" his ability to drop full length at speed is high quality and a hallmark of the saves he's made this year. McClaren's decision to pick Lumley was inspirational and a big contribution to our seven defensive shut outs. You can hear Lumley shouting at the back four throughout the game, he dominates his box and his positioning and shot stopping are impressive. All good traits, but the trade of a keeper is a difficult one with fine margins between success and failure. I'm sure Lumley will learn to push the ball De Gea or Castillas style out of the danger zone when parrying shots.
Pav was man of the match in the second half with his running and desire. His tenacity in winning the ball and supplying the cross for Wells to snaffle the third goal was first class. Watch Pav and you will see he's always looking for his team mates, looking to see what the best option is. He's willing to run the channels and create chances or to pull defenders towards him. Pav will also drift in between the centre backs, like the goal against Villa, and at the Championship level this is a nightmare for your average defensive lump who needs help from a couple of tug boats to make a turn.
Leistner and Lynch are now a solid midfield pairing with a good understanding building and allowing Lynch to look like a decent footballer. The addition of Angel on the right gives our defence a solid look that we've lacked the last three seasons. Along with Bidwell, they might not be the fastest unit but they've contained some lively attacking players so far.
On a down note, our left sided defense of Freeman and Bidwell is a weak spot. Too often Freeman is caught out of position and struggles to get back on the cover. This leaves plenty of space for teams to exploit and is the one area that we need to improve.
Now Schteve has a team on his hands that's capable of mixing with the better teams in the Championship. Let's hope we can build from here after another annoying international break is over.
Against Brentford, touted as the best team we'll play all season, we started brightly but struggled to get into the game. Finishing second best at 1-0 at half time. Then an amazing burst of three goals in ten minutes buried Brentford and had the ground rocking as the "ole's" rang out. Loftus Road at its finest, passionate, fiery best. One of those Saturdays when nothing else matters. One of those Saturdays that you don't want to end.
Key players for us were Lumley and Pav. Lumley is an exciting young prospect and one who should have a long career between with the Number 1 jersey on his back. Pav makes our right hand side stronger, faster and more effective.
While we struggled to get hold of the game in the first half, we let Brentford through a gap and Lumley parried Benrhama's shot straight at the divisions top scorer Maupay who duly put the rebound away. In the second half, Lumley made some smart saves to keep Brentford out; his positioning is very good and at 6'5" his ability to drop full length at speed is high quality and a hallmark of the saves he's made this year. McClaren's decision to pick Lumley was inspirational and a big contribution to our seven defensive shut outs. You can hear Lumley shouting at the back four throughout the game, he dominates his box and his positioning and shot stopping are impressive. All good traits, but the trade of a keeper is a difficult one with fine margins between success and failure. I'm sure Lumley will learn to push the ball De Gea or Castillas style out of the danger zone when parrying shots.
Pav was man of the match in the second half with his running and desire. His tenacity in winning the ball and supplying the cross for Wells to snaffle the third goal was first class. Watch Pav and you will see he's always looking for his team mates, looking to see what the best option is. He's willing to run the channels and create chances or to pull defenders towards him. Pav will also drift in between the centre backs, like the goal against Villa, and at the Championship level this is a nightmare for your average defensive lump who needs help from a couple of tug boats to make a turn.
Leistner and Lynch are now a solid midfield pairing with a good understanding building and allowing Lynch to look like a decent footballer. The addition of Angel on the right gives our defence a solid look that we've lacked the last three seasons. Along with Bidwell, they might not be the fastest unit but they've contained some lively attacking players so far.
On a down note, our left sided defense of Freeman and Bidwell is a weak spot. Too often Freeman is caught out of position and struggles to get back on the cover. This leaves plenty of space for teams to exploit and is the one area that we need to improve.
Now Schteve has a team on his hands that's capable of mixing with the better teams in the Championship. Let's hope we can build from here after another annoying international break is over.
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Remind me. Which football team is playing in this game?
Saturday afternoon, QPR playing away at Bolton; we're up North and we're on the road. My aspirations are a slightly better result than the Birmingham game: namely play well, score a goal and get a point. Grabbing three points will be an unexpected bonus.
While listening to the game, I kept hearing words like "in control", "defending well", "practicing the dark arts" and I suddenly felt the need to check that this is QPRs official live commentary and that it's Andy Sinton using these words. We were dominant in the game, had managed to keep the Bolton crowd quiet and seemed much improved since our trip to Brum.
Key change to our formation is the addition of Hemed and Wells up front. They are quick and sharp, but you expect that from players of their quality. The big difference now is their ability to keep pressure on defenders and press from the front. The running from Wells was fascinating to watch on the highlights. Looking for flicks from Hemed and working himself into good positions and really should have scored a goal.
Freeman seems to have settled into a role that works for him; his goal was the classic run from central midfield to slam home Well's cutback ahead of the lunging Wheater. We've not seen enough of Freeman in the box and hopefully this lifts his confidence to score more goals.
Eze is astonishing with his close control, ability to take about players with a shift of his hips and spot a killer pass through traffic. A perfectly weighted toe-poke that started the move for the Freeman goal was classy; suddenly 4 Bolton players were on the wrong side of the ball with a rampant Freeman bound for the box. Eze's goal was earned due to his alertness and balance allowing him to get to the ball first and emphatically dispatch it into the bottom left corner.
Ten minutes into the second half, we're away from home and look more likely to finish with all three points. We have a team of players who are playing with purpose and seem to be clear on the system of play. There is a distinct fluency to the team and the boos are starting to be heard from the home fans.
But of course, this is QPR and we have form for letting leads slip. We duly get penalised for Joel Lynch getting too friendly with one of the Bolton players. Magennis manages to fire through the wall and underneath Joe Lumley. Added to the madness, there's a Keystone Cops moment where one of our players falls down behind the wall.
Cue the Bolton team rising from their sick beds and playing like they're possessed. We defended well and the excitement stopped from my usual second half doze.
Well done to the team, good to get an important away win on the board. Looking forward to seeing them in action against Millwall.
While listening to the game, I kept hearing words like "in control", "defending well", "practicing the dark arts" and I suddenly felt the need to check that this is QPRs official live commentary and that it's Andy Sinton using these words. We were dominant in the game, had managed to keep the Bolton crowd quiet and seemed much improved since our trip to Brum.
Key change to our formation is the addition of Hemed and Wells up front. They are quick and sharp, but you expect that from players of their quality. The big difference now is their ability to keep pressure on defenders and press from the front. The running from Wells was fascinating to watch on the highlights. Looking for flicks from Hemed and working himself into good positions and really should have scored a goal.
Freeman seems to have settled into a role that works for him; his goal was the classic run from central midfield to slam home Well's cutback ahead of the lunging Wheater. We've not seen enough of Freeman in the box and hopefully this lifts his confidence to score more goals.
Eze is astonishing with his close control, ability to take about players with a shift of his hips and spot a killer pass through traffic. A perfectly weighted toe-poke that started the move for the Freeman goal was classy; suddenly 4 Bolton players were on the wrong side of the ball with a rampant Freeman bound for the box. Eze's goal was earned due to his alertness and balance allowing him to get to the ball first and emphatically dispatch it into the bottom left corner.
Ten minutes into the second half, we're away from home and look more likely to finish with all three points. We have a team of players who are playing with purpose and seem to be clear on the system of play. There is a distinct fluency to the team and the boos are starting to be heard from the home fans.
But of course, this is QPR and we have form for letting leads slip. We duly get penalised for Joel Lynch getting too friendly with one of the Bolton players. Magennis manages to fire through the wall and underneath Joe Lumley. Added to the madness, there's a Keystone Cops moment where one of our players falls down behind the wall.
Cue the Bolton team rising from their sick beds and playing like they're possessed. We defended well and the excitement stopped from my usual second half doze.
Well done to the team, good to get an important away win on the board. Looking forward to seeing them in action against Millwall.
Friday, August 24, 2018
Tell Me a Joke
I needed a laugh to pick me up after the Bristol City game, so I thought why not just ask Alexa.
"Alexa, tell me a joke".
"You're a Queens Park Rangers supporter", comes the dulcet purr from the little speaker beside the TV.
Ok, I made this up. Alexa is not capable of British irony and does not know which football team I support. However, if this did happen I certainly wouldn't know whether to laugh or fall to the floor weeping.
Watching QPR at Loftus Rd over 28 years, the Bristol City performance was the worst I have seen. And I sat through the full debacle that was Vauxhall Motors. Against Bristol, we played some good football, but Connor's miscues, including the shit pass that prevented Eze from scoring, were dreadful for a striker at any level and overall our team cohesion and desire to win seemed non-existent. To be fair, playing Connor on his own up front with Eze in the 10 position and Pav on the wing isn't a tactically astute combination. How will a 5" 6' striker who's skill is turning his defender going to cope with long balls lumped up to him or crosses into the box? Neither Eze or Connor are a back-to-goal hold-up-the ball striker.
Eze though is the player who suffers the most from the ineptitude on display. A clearly gifted player with the ability to subtly shift his weight and bamboozle defenders, an eye for a pass and capable of striking with both feet. Eze is a player that, with the right support, would be running any game at this level. Instead the System doesn't lend him that support and in the last 15 minutes against Bristol he started trying to make things happen with some outrageous punts of the ball, none of which came off. I do feel for him; at least Jesus Christ only had to use water to make wine.
Our club is seriously broken, a continual merry-go-round of managers who arrive to much fan-fare from the Club attempts to assure the Fans that QPR is serious, we're making progress, we're going to be competitive in this league. Each pre-owned manager starts with the "getting this club back where it belongs" bollocks. Their cliche riddled speeches on the importance of attitude over results have reached a point where it's hard to distinguish who said what and when. After a series of mediocre results, said manager then scurries out the back door well before their contract completes. Another dollop of compensation for another failure, a further drift towards destruction for QPR.
I can imagine Ollie having an argument with himself on Tuesday night about his precious QPR. Much like Gollum arguing with Smeagol, Ollie, proud Bristol Rover and QPR supporter, would be furious with a performance that lacked desire and ended in a loss to Bristol City but feeling vindicated that he'd done the job last year before his unceremonious dumping at the end of the season.
QPR have now engaged the services of two strikers who seem to know how to score goals and, with this article being produced just before the Wigan game, I'm not sure how they will invigorate or salvage a point in that game. I don't recall the last time a QPR result surprised me.
"Alexa, tell me a joke".
"You're a Queens Park Rangers supporter", comes the dulcet purr from the little speaker beside the TV.
Ok, I made this up. Alexa is not capable of British irony and does not know which football team I support. However, if this did happen I certainly wouldn't know whether to laugh or fall to the floor weeping.
Watching QPR at Loftus Rd over 28 years, the Bristol City performance was the worst I have seen. And I sat through the full debacle that was Vauxhall Motors. Against Bristol, we played some good football, but Connor's miscues, including the shit pass that prevented Eze from scoring, were dreadful for a striker at any level and overall our team cohesion and desire to win seemed non-existent. To be fair, playing Connor on his own up front with Eze in the 10 position and Pav on the wing isn't a tactically astute combination. How will a 5" 6' striker who's skill is turning his defender going to cope with long balls lumped up to him or crosses into the box? Neither Eze or Connor are a back-to-goal hold-up-the ball striker.
Eze though is the player who suffers the most from the ineptitude on display. A clearly gifted player with the ability to subtly shift his weight and bamboozle defenders, an eye for a pass and capable of striking with both feet. Eze is a player that, with the right support, would be running any game at this level. Instead the System doesn't lend him that support and in the last 15 minutes against Bristol he started trying to make things happen with some outrageous punts of the ball, none of which came off. I do feel for him; at least Jesus Christ only had to use water to make wine.
Our club is seriously broken, a continual merry-go-round of managers who arrive to much fan-fare from the Club attempts to assure the Fans that QPR is serious, we're making progress, we're going to be competitive in this league. Each pre-owned manager starts with the "getting this club back where it belongs" bollocks. Their cliche riddled speeches on the importance of attitude over results have reached a point where it's hard to distinguish who said what and when. After a series of mediocre results, said manager then scurries out the back door well before their contract completes. Another dollop of compensation for another failure, a further drift towards destruction for QPR.
I can imagine Ollie having an argument with himself on Tuesday night about his precious QPR. Much like Gollum arguing with Smeagol, Ollie, proud Bristol Rover and QPR supporter, would be furious with a performance that lacked desire and ended in a loss to Bristol City but feeling vindicated that he'd done the job last year before his unceremonious dumping at the end of the season.
QPR have now engaged the services of two strikers who seem to know how to score goals and, with this article being produced just before the Wigan game, I'm not sure how they will invigorate or salvage a point in that game. I don't recall the last time a QPR result surprised me.
Sunday, June 10, 2018
End of Season Shenanigans
When you're a QPR supporter and you reach the end of a season that has avoided a relegation battle and kept you in the same division, it's almost a dream. When that season includes the debut of a clutch of young and talented players who seem hungry for success, then dreams become fantasies.
How fitting that just days after the season ended the QPR hierarchy decided to toss Ollie out the window. This wasn't a mutually agreed cliche, it was a clinical defenestration designed to allow a new manager to be appointed well ahead of the summer break. Queue media speculation and the arrival of a second hand McLaren. We might not have a budget, but at least we have a manager. Hope runs a good race; maybe Stevie will be a wonder and not a Wally with a Brolly come the turn of the year.
Goal of the year is always an odd voting exercise. THAT Tricky Trev strike against Barnsley or the Ainsworth pints of wallop against Rushden and Diamonds. Worthy winners each of them. Then there was Adel in our promotion year banging in goals from all parts of the ground for fun, including some belters from outside the box into the top corner on several Occasion. For me, the GOTY has to be special, something that really stands out and sticks in your mind. Josh Scowen's goal against Barnsley was good but arguably one spectacular strike in a season is not unusual for a midfielder. My GOTY was Paul Smyth against Sheffield Wednesday. In that game, Smyth was involved in pretty much everything that was good and his goal was absolutely stunning. He kept himself free in the box and was first to react to a weak punch from the keeper. Trap on the left to volley on the outside right into the bottom left corner with 2 Wednesday players looking to close him down. Awesome technique and composure from a lad of 19. At least he's won the Young Player of the Year award but I expect to hear more from him next season.
The footballing world's focus is now on the World Cup, but in the meantime I'm hoping that Stevie has figured out who the ageing veterans that we can afford on free transfer are that can guide an emerging team of high quality youngsters into a Championship force. Of course, it could all go horribly wrong by Christmas and we'll be back looking for another manager will to get on the QPR House of Horrors ride. I'm hoping not.
How fitting that just days after the season ended the QPR hierarchy decided to toss Ollie out the window. This wasn't a mutually agreed cliche, it was a clinical defenestration designed to allow a new manager to be appointed well ahead of the summer break. Queue media speculation and the arrival of a second hand McLaren. We might not have a budget, but at least we have a manager. Hope runs a good race; maybe Stevie will be a wonder and not a Wally with a Brolly come the turn of the year.
Goal of the year is always an odd voting exercise. THAT Tricky Trev strike against Barnsley or the Ainsworth pints of wallop against Rushden and Diamonds. Worthy winners each of them. Then there was Adel in our promotion year banging in goals from all parts of the ground for fun, including some belters from outside the box into the top corner on several Occasion. For me, the GOTY has to be special, something that really stands out and sticks in your mind. Josh Scowen's goal against Barnsley was good but arguably one spectacular strike in a season is not unusual for a midfielder. My GOTY was Paul Smyth against Sheffield Wednesday. In that game, Smyth was involved in pretty much everything that was good and his goal was absolutely stunning. He kept himself free in the box and was first to react to a weak punch from the keeper. Trap on the left to volley on the outside right into the bottom left corner with 2 Wednesday players looking to close him down. Awesome technique and composure from a lad of 19. At least he's won the Young Player of the Year award but I expect to hear more from him next season.
The footballing world's focus is now on the World Cup, but in the meantime I'm hoping that Stevie has figured out who the ageing veterans that we can afford on free transfer are that can guide an emerging team of high quality youngsters into a Championship force. Of course, it could all go horribly wrong by Christmas and we'll be back looking for another manager will to get on the QPR House of Horrors ride. I'm hoping not.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Supporting QPR and Staying Sane
Here's a copy of my article published in the early January addition of AKUTRS - a great Fanzine for the gossip at Loftus Rd and one of the finest publications of its type in the country.
Much like QPR, I've had a poor Christmas. Laid up with flu and not being able to enjoy as much seasonal cheer as I would wish, my disposition took a turn for the worse after spending two hours in the cold watching a woeful QPR being run ragged by a rampant Liverpool.
Much like QPR, I've had a poor Christmas. Laid up with flu and not being able to enjoy as much seasonal cheer as I would wish, my disposition took a turn for the worse after spending two hours in the cold watching a woeful QPR being run ragged by a rampant Liverpool.
At times during the first half of that game I thought
Liverpool were playing an old fashioned 2-3-5 as Johnson seemed to spend most
of his time parked on the edge of our 18 yard box. On the other hand, our beloved Hoops saw an
increasingly isolated Cisse up front, solely due to the dysfunctional nature of
the other nine players behind him. As we
were being cut apart by the skill and determination of Luis Suarez and the
running of the Liverpool team our game plan seemed to be a simple one: allow
Liverpool to run around until they were knackered. We were just like a bunch of school kids in
the playground following the ball around.
By the time we were three down, all we had to play for at this point was
pride.
For now, I’ll leave the telling of the Liverpool debacle to
others in this fine publication.
Instead, I’d like to talk about one of the great things about supporting
Rangers which is the people I've met who follow the QPR cause. Great people I've become good mates
with. In particular I’d like to talk
about one whom I’ll call John.
John has a wealth of football knowledge, but his specialist
subject is Rangers from Venables onward.
He has seen the highs and lows at Rangers home and away; he’s been to
Wembley in the 1980s and played an 11 a-side on the plastic pitch for his Stag. He is your Rangers man.
Following Arry’s anointing as the next Rangers saviour, John
put Rangers miserable predicament into perspective during a chat in the Queen
Adelaide. John suggested that with 25
games to play, the best way to view the season is to split the Arry era into
three groups of eight games. Let’s face
facts; our final game is Liverpool away so nil points are most likely. There’s clearly no way we’ll repeat the amazing
final-day script of season 2011/12.
From here, John believes the target for survival is to
obtain 12 points per group of 8 games.
John’s not suggesting this is easy, he’s simply saying that by breaking
down the remaining games in this way, it’s easier to remain upbeat about our
survival prospects. This means that no
individual game is a “Must Win”, it allows you to look at the bigger question
and assess: are Rangers making progress versus the other crap teams at the
bottom of this division? This means that
we might lose a game against a relegation rival but pick up points against one
of the big sides. Like Chelsea.
Are we as bad as Reading, Villa, Southampton, Sunderland and
Wigan? Current evidence suggests that 9
points from Arry’s first 8 games has steadied the ship but a gain of just one
point on our relegation rivals in that time says that further improvement is
needed to overtake them.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Day 4 - We're going to Paris!
Saturday morning and we're going to Paris. No rosy fingered Dawn to greet us but instead it was cloudy, gray weather and the need to put on glare filters instead of the regular sun glasses from previous days. Breakfast at the Ibis more than made up for dinner the night before. Lots of lovely fresh croissants and a tremendously tasty potato frittata along with plenty of fresh orange juice; plenty to fill up on, even though we were only travelling about 95km or so for the day. A good nights sleep had me feeling much better too.
It was quite exciting to think that by around 2pm we'd be in Paris waiting to take our bow at the Arc de Triomphe before heading to the Eiffel Tower. Bag packed and into the waiting DA van, bike checked out and ready to go. Plenty more water this time, plus plenty of gel packs in reserve to get me through the day if needed. One of the bikes was being worked on by the DA team and upon return to its owner, he complained that the motor didn't seem to be working. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits at the thought of finishing our adventure that day.
Following the orange arrows, it was far quicker getting out of Compiegne and onto a bicycle path that ran alongside one of the main roads through the Foret dominalie de Compiegne heading in the direction of Lacroix St. Ouen. That was a gentle warm up to get us going. Lacroix St Ouen was very quiet, some traffic lights to slow us down, and then to St Vaast and up a hill of about 150 metres spread over 2km with me sputtering on 1 and 2 (i.e. the lowest ratio gears before you start breaking your chain) at about 11km/h. I will do this trip again, and when I do I'll have spent plenty of time climbing hills in order to take on these undulations. Especially after Matt and Alex steamed past me with Matt calling out "down and give me 20"! Sometimes it felt like I couldn't even cycle over a railway bridge.
The first water stop appeared suddenly at a much shorter distance than I had expected. We were next to the Golf du Raray - lovely French Chateau with a proper golf course. The group was quite large as we hadn't spread out too much by this time. It was nice to meet up with the others after being separated in Compiegne and there was a real buzz that this was our final day and Paris was just down the road.
Off again and Karen and I travelled through some very nice, not too hilly, countryside following the D100 south. At one point, and I think this was near Montepiloy, we crossed some cobbles (spoke breaking territory here for the heavier boned) and I was admiring the beauty of the village and stopped to take a photo. As I was putting the camera away I hear Rachel calling out "You OK Tony?". "I'm fine I replied" in my happy little world, as I was just about to clip myself back in to start following the path. "You know you missed an arrow back there?" "Ah, thank you very, very much!!" I humbly replied as without this warning who knows where I would have ended up. I think I still own Rachel a beer!
Now, fortunately back on the right path thanks to Rachel and continuing on to the lunch stop we caught up with the Uni Boys in a largish bunch as we cycled through a couple of larger towns that even had people outside in the daylight. In one town there was a boy of about 10 using an electric scooter to travel back from a shopping errand. I began to seriously contemplate offering him a swap of my bike for the scooter as it looked so easy to be bobbing along the pavement on it. A little later and we passed through another town with cobbles; in hindsight I probably should have walked my bike over them but luckily I navigated them unscathed. On the other side of the cobbles, Alex had popped a spoke and was waiting for the DA van to come and collect.
Coming up to lunch and we saw a sign labelled "Survilliers"; I suddenly realised with great excitement that we weren't all that far from Paris. On our summer journey, we'd stayed at the Survilliers St Witz Novotel for a night when going to Paris and I knew we didn't have much further to travel. Lunch was in a car park by the local indoor swimming pool. Not much protection from a biting wind that had sprung up and lots more grey blankets to keep everyone warm. However with smiling faces everywhere and an energetic buzz about the lunchtime chat you could tell we weren't far from our goal.
Second last big briefing from Jo. We had to be at the Parc Monceau by 2pm or we'd miss the chance to do our lap of honor in Paris. Mark from DA was la voiture balai, tagging along at the back and sweeping up any stragglers into his van that might miss the cut off time.
This last leg into Paris was the most enjoyable one for me. Just out of Survilliers we had a little climb and then a dip into a village, another climb out and then, and I'm guessing here because I really lost track of time and space at this point, about an hour on a fairly exposed ridge and then a cycle path beside an N road where Matt, Alex, Karen, Martin (from the Uni Crew), Ian, myself and maybe a 6th person (possibly Nathan, maybe Olivia but again, no idea who as I was just lost in the moment), spent the time cycling in formation, rotating the front rider, tailing each other like a proper group of cyclists and, for a bunch of pure amateurs, basically belting along at around 30 km/h into a pretty stiff wind. It was really disappointing to hit the outer reaches of Paris and be back in a big city with lots of traffic and slow progress. Karen's chain came off and it took a few minutes to get it sorted and we ended chasing hard until we caught up with Matt and Alex again. Then Alex came to a rapid halt; I thought he needed a rest for his foot but he'd popped an intercostal muscle in his back and was in great pain. I gave him a quick massage of his shoulder to help ease the pain (it's a really nasty place because you can't reach it yourself) and to get him back on the bike. The four of us plus John the Builder (who'd caught up at this point) continued to navigate the outer suburbs of Paris.
We eventually reached the Seine and followed, in what seemed like a very big circle, to eventually find an orange arrow to the left and after a little bit more cycling we found ourselves at Le Garcon de Cafe for a well earned cup of tea, water and beers with Matt, Alex, Barry, John, Karen and myself. We spent about half an hour relaxing, and Barry very kindly paid for our drinks. Back on our bikes and we passed a large contingent of our group sitting in a bar enjoying the sunshine. We eventually found our way to the Parc Monceau, parked up our bikes and waited around for instructions from Jo. Lots of time for photos, chit chat and the odd ice-cream, but the simmering excitement of being so close to the end was palpable.
Finally, the final briefing, well almost, from Jo about how we needed to travel as a bunch and stick together to stop the Parisian traffic from cutting us off and we were off on our bikes being book-ended by the two DA vans. For me, it seemed to take ages to get to the Arc de Triomphe, but it was quite a sight to travel round it on bicycle and then onto the Champs Elysses with lots of cycle bells ringing. Past the offices of HSBC (which felt quite odd as I was there only a couple of weeks earlier), and then some major excitement as some idiot driver of a people mover decided to open a door in front of Em. Fortunately he missed but it was very tempting to punch him as I went past.
Right off the Champs Elysses and another circular trip to get round to the front of the Eiffel tower and then past the tower, left and left, round the fountain and we were there!!!! Lots of excited friends and family to great the various people in the group and then time for hundreds of photos, group photos, more screaming ( mostly Em's friends) some annoying gorilla suited people, but more than anything, the feeling of accomplishment at finishing the challenge. I felt elated for being there.
At the end, Cat, Em, Nathan, Karen and I headed for our hotel at the Pullman Rive Gauche. Em said she needed to stop for a post card. Which was a lie. She was actually getting cards as it was Karen's birthday, which was a really nice touch. We pedalled very slowly for our hotel; I honestly didn't want to stop cycling but knew we'd completed this trip. We met up with Dr John and managed to find the DA van at the back of the hotel and left behind some bikes that had served us faithfully, some more than others, through four days of our journey. I hadn't suffered any mechanical failures and, despite my man-flu, had not suffered any physical problems that stopped me from finishing the ride. Jenny from DA was there to had out room keys and we had a quick drink of champagne before finding our backs and staggering off to our rooms. Mine did smell a bit weird, but I was too tired to really care.
After a shower, it felt quite strange to be wearing proper clothes and know that tomorrow I'd be on the Eurostart back home. Downstairs and the bar was just getting warmed up. The hotel prices were ridiculously expensive, even by Paris standards. I didn't feel like drinking, so instead I managed to get some really good photos of the people we'd travelled with over the last four days. I couldn't care less that Australia had managed to lose to Ireland in the rugby, I was just happy to be in the bar.
Dinner was in the banquet hall at the back of the hotel. More photos and lots of smiles all round when we found our medals for completing the journey. The food was pretty good, although there seemed to be some confusion again about how many vegetarians they had to serve. Old John gave a very good speech thanking the DA team for their efforts. It was quite entertaining, though borderline as you never knew quite where some of his insinuations were going. Jo gave a speech and what turned out to be the final briefing, along with the direction from the DA crew to head for the pizzeria over the road for cheaper beer and the chance to party all night.
In the pizzeria, Karen had the Uni Crew sing a very good basso-tenor "Happy Birthday" and the place was filled with the DA crew and Alzheimer's cyclists, all having a brilliant time. I spoke to many of the people I'd travelled with in the pizzeria, and it was a fitting end to a colossal four days where people cycled their hearts out for a great cause but were there for each other when needed. For me, before I had started the journey and was stood on Blackheath with a bunch of random strangers, I thought it would be like any other tour with a large group where you follow the chosen route and at the end don't speak to each other ever again. This felt more like a pilgrimage with an outcome of great joy; I met some fantastic people along the way who made it possible to simply love the time I had on the road with them; without these people, the experience would have been a long cycle with those unknown strangers.
It was quite exciting to think that by around 2pm we'd be in Paris waiting to take our bow at the Arc de Triomphe before heading to the Eiffel Tower. Bag packed and into the waiting DA van, bike checked out and ready to go. Plenty more water this time, plus plenty of gel packs in reserve to get me through the day if needed. One of the bikes was being worked on by the DA team and upon return to its owner, he complained that the motor didn't seem to be working. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits at the thought of finishing our adventure that day.
Following the orange arrows, it was far quicker getting out of Compiegne and onto a bicycle path that ran alongside one of the main roads through the Foret dominalie de Compiegne heading in the direction of Lacroix St. Ouen. That was a gentle warm up to get us going. Lacroix St Ouen was very quiet, some traffic lights to slow us down, and then to St Vaast and up a hill of about 150 metres spread over 2km with me sputtering on 1 and 2 (i.e. the lowest ratio gears before you start breaking your chain) at about 11km/h. I will do this trip again, and when I do I'll have spent plenty of time climbing hills in order to take on these undulations. Especially after Matt and Alex steamed past me with Matt calling out "down and give me 20"! Sometimes it felt like I couldn't even cycle over a railway bridge.
The first water stop appeared suddenly at a much shorter distance than I had expected. We were next to the Golf du Raray - lovely French Chateau with a proper golf course. The group was quite large as we hadn't spread out too much by this time. It was nice to meet up with the others after being separated in Compiegne and there was a real buzz that this was our final day and Paris was just down the road.
Off again and Karen and I travelled through some very nice, not too hilly, countryside following the D100 south. At one point, and I think this was near Montepiloy, we crossed some cobbles (spoke breaking territory here for the heavier boned) and I was admiring the beauty of the village and stopped to take a photo. As I was putting the camera away I hear Rachel calling out "You OK Tony?". "I'm fine I replied" in my happy little world, as I was just about to clip myself back in to start following the path. "You know you missed an arrow back there?" "Ah, thank you very, very much!!" I humbly replied as without this warning who knows where I would have ended up. I think I still own Rachel a beer!
Now, fortunately back on the right path thanks to Rachel and continuing on to the lunch stop we caught up with the Uni Boys in a largish bunch as we cycled through a couple of larger towns that even had people outside in the daylight. In one town there was a boy of about 10 using an electric scooter to travel back from a shopping errand. I began to seriously contemplate offering him a swap of my bike for the scooter as it looked so easy to be bobbing along the pavement on it. A little later and we passed through another town with cobbles; in hindsight I probably should have walked my bike over them but luckily I navigated them unscathed. On the other side of the cobbles, Alex had popped a spoke and was waiting for the DA van to come and collect.
Coming up to lunch and we saw a sign labelled "Survilliers"; I suddenly realised with great excitement that we weren't all that far from Paris. On our summer journey, we'd stayed at the Survilliers St Witz Novotel for a night when going to Paris and I knew we didn't have much further to travel. Lunch was in a car park by the local indoor swimming pool. Not much protection from a biting wind that had sprung up and lots more grey blankets to keep everyone warm. However with smiling faces everywhere and an energetic buzz about the lunchtime chat you could tell we weren't far from our goal.
Second last big briefing from Jo. We had to be at the Parc Monceau by 2pm or we'd miss the chance to do our lap of honor in Paris. Mark from DA was la voiture balai, tagging along at the back and sweeping up any stragglers into his van that might miss the cut off time.
This last leg into Paris was the most enjoyable one for me. Just out of Survilliers we had a little climb and then a dip into a village, another climb out and then, and I'm guessing here because I really lost track of time and space at this point, about an hour on a fairly exposed ridge and then a cycle path beside an N road where Matt, Alex, Karen, Martin (from the Uni Crew), Ian, myself and maybe a 6th person (possibly Nathan, maybe Olivia but again, no idea who as I was just lost in the moment), spent the time cycling in formation, rotating the front rider, tailing each other like a proper group of cyclists and, for a bunch of pure amateurs, basically belting along at around 30 km/h into a pretty stiff wind. It was really disappointing to hit the outer reaches of Paris and be back in a big city with lots of traffic and slow progress. Karen's chain came off and it took a few minutes to get it sorted and we ended chasing hard until we caught up with Matt and Alex again. Then Alex came to a rapid halt; I thought he needed a rest for his foot but he'd popped an intercostal muscle in his back and was in great pain. I gave him a quick massage of his shoulder to help ease the pain (it's a really nasty place because you can't reach it yourself) and to get him back on the bike. The four of us plus John the Builder (who'd caught up at this point) continued to navigate the outer suburbs of Paris.
We eventually reached the Seine and followed, in what seemed like a very big circle, to eventually find an orange arrow to the left and after a little bit more cycling we found ourselves at Le Garcon de Cafe for a well earned cup of tea, water and beers with Matt, Alex, Barry, John, Karen and myself. We spent about half an hour relaxing, and Barry very kindly paid for our drinks. Back on our bikes and we passed a large contingent of our group sitting in a bar enjoying the sunshine. We eventually found our way to the Parc Monceau, parked up our bikes and waited around for instructions from Jo. Lots of time for photos, chit chat and the odd ice-cream, but the simmering excitement of being so close to the end was palpable.
Finally, the final briefing, well almost, from Jo about how we needed to travel as a bunch and stick together to stop the Parisian traffic from cutting us off and we were off on our bikes being book-ended by the two DA vans. For me, it seemed to take ages to get to the Arc de Triomphe, but it was quite a sight to travel round it on bicycle and then onto the Champs Elysses with lots of cycle bells ringing. Past the offices of HSBC (which felt quite odd as I was there only a couple of weeks earlier), and then some major excitement as some idiot driver of a people mover decided to open a door in front of Em. Fortunately he missed but it was very tempting to punch him as I went past.
Right off the Champs Elysses and another circular trip to get round to the front of the Eiffel tower and then past the tower, left and left, round the fountain and we were there!!!! Lots of excited friends and family to great the various people in the group and then time for hundreds of photos, group photos, more screaming ( mostly Em's friends) some annoying gorilla suited people, but more than anything, the feeling of accomplishment at finishing the challenge. I felt elated for being there.
At the end, Cat, Em, Nathan, Karen and I headed for our hotel at the Pullman Rive Gauche. Em said she needed to stop for a post card. Which was a lie. She was actually getting cards as it was Karen's birthday, which was a really nice touch. We pedalled very slowly for our hotel; I honestly didn't want to stop cycling but knew we'd completed this trip. We met up with Dr John and managed to find the DA van at the back of the hotel and left behind some bikes that had served us faithfully, some more than others, through four days of our journey. I hadn't suffered any mechanical failures and, despite my man-flu, had not suffered any physical problems that stopped me from finishing the ride. Jenny from DA was there to had out room keys and we had a quick drink of champagne before finding our backs and staggering off to our rooms. Mine did smell a bit weird, but I was too tired to really care.
After a shower, it felt quite strange to be wearing proper clothes and know that tomorrow I'd be on the Eurostart back home. Downstairs and the bar was just getting warmed up. The hotel prices were ridiculously expensive, even by Paris standards. I didn't feel like drinking, so instead I managed to get some really good photos of the people we'd travelled with over the last four days. I couldn't care less that Australia had managed to lose to Ireland in the rugby, I was just happy to be in the bar.
Dinner was in the banquet hall at the back of the hotel. More photos and lots of smiles all round when we found our medals for completing the journey. The food was pretty good, although there seemed to be some confusion again about how many vegetarians they had to serve. Old John gave a very good speech thanking the DA team for their efforts. It was quite entertaining, though borderline as you never knew quite where some of his insinuations were going. Jo gave a speech and what turned out to be the final briefing, along with the direction from the DA crew to head for the pizzeria over the road for cheaper beer and the chance to party all night.
In the pizzeria, Karen had the Uni Crew sing a very good basso-tenor "Happy Birthday" and the place was filled with the DA crew and Alzheimer's cyclists, all having a brilliant time. I spoke to many of the people I'd travelled with in the pizzeria, and it was a fitting end to a colossal four days where people cycled their hearts out for a great cause but were there for each other when needed. For me, before I had started the journey and was stood on Blackheath with a bunch of random strangers, I thought it would be like any other tour with a large group where you follow the chosen route and at the end don't speak to each other ever again. This felt more like a pilgrimage with an outcome of great joy; I met some fantastic people along the way who made it possible to simply love the time I had on the road with them; without these people, the experience would have been a long cycle with those unknown strangers.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Day 3 - Arras to Compiegne - Part 2
Nathan, Claire, Stewart, Olivia, Karen and myself left the lunch stop together and with the weather starting to warm up it was promising to be a better afternoon for cycling then the rain and cold of the morning. We headed along the main road for a couple of kilometres before taking a left onto the back roads once more. Nathan, Karen and I stopped at the next corner for the others to catch up and then headed off again in convoy. Nathan and Karen were keen to forge ahead and I just tagged along behind. We noticed that Claire, Stewart and Olivia had stopped moving and Karen went back to find Claire had a front puncture from an earlier pitstop. Luckily Jo showed up in the DA van and fixed it, which included removing the nasty little bit of stone from the tyre that was the cause of the problem.
After this was all sorted, Nathan, Karen and I continued on some fairly open terrain between various mounds of sugar beet that were deposited by the road side. I had thought they were turnips, but apparently Emma, our resident farm girl, had set Karen straight on the type of vegetable being harvested. In one village, an elderly resident gave us a wave and a cheer of "Allez", which was quite heartening.
Jo went past us in the DA van, heading for the water stop. Karen, Nathan and I were directed slightly further right down a very rough country lane with lots of dirt and mushed up vegetable matter on the road. At least it wasn't fertiliser! We came into a little village and left onto the main road and Nathan and I charged ahead until we heard Karen call us back. Missed an orange arrow, so lucky one of us was paying attention. I'm sure that Nathan has repaid his debt for being saved!
Up another "undulation" just before the water stop and back onto the flat and then off into the forest and stopping by a little lake surrounded by trees. At this point I realised I probably hadn't had enough to drink at the lunch stop as I felt quite light headed and in need of a rest before continuing on. In the end I just sat on the grass for a while, eating and drinking plenty to make sure I could get to Compiegne. Karen and Nathan kindly agreed to take it slowly on the final leg as I wasn't sure I'd make it to the hotel without assistance from the DA team if we kept up our previous pace.
Cat, Emma, Stewart, Claire and Olivia caught up with us and a little later Vicki and Holly arrived. Em tried taking off her cycling outer top without removing her helmet, a tricky manoeuvre that failed miserably. It ended with me unclipping the helmet for her, which is something I've only ever done for my children. Em started getting out her gel packs to see if anyone was interested in them; Em and Nathan were then engaged in some light hearted banter about the opportunities for dealing in gel packs in Wales. They were certainly tastier than the Powerbar ones that I'd brought with me; mind you though it's difficult to disguise the taste of the equivalent of six teaspoons of salt and 50mg of caffeine. I gulped down my gel pack to help with the last 30 km and Nathan, Karen and I headed off for the last leg of the day.
There was a sweeping long down hill into the village of Lachelle, big open road and well made (a general feature of the French roads was that they are less potholed than their British equivalents) and we were able to zoom into the village at high speed. After passing school kids on the way home and crossing a little bridge over a small stream, the buzz from the zoom was tempered by the need to cycle up a fairly steep hill. The next down hill took us to an Artisan boulangerie and choclatiere. The tarte au sucre was great, and Karen had some chocolates but alas there was no cafe to sit and have a coffee or a drink of any sort. Back on the bikes and up another hill to find a very busy dog running up and down chasing the cars and bikes from the inside of its fence. Karen realised she'd left her sun glasses behind and went back to get them while I waited with the dog watching me. The hound was definitely quite annoyed that I wasn't moving, this clearly wasn't part of his game. He started running up and down again when Karen came back and we headed towards Compiegne.
Down the hill, over the railway crossing and we found Cat, Emma, Nathan and others looking to figure out which way we were supposed to go. No orange arrows in Compiegne, so a little tricky to navigate through the town. Google maps works as well in France as it does in the UK, which is fortunate, and just as we'd agreed which way to go, Jo showed up and pointed us in the right direction with the added bonus that we were able to follow her for a while rather than trying to use our tired minds to follow the directions we were given. I think we missed the correct turn to take a diversion under the main road into town and instead found ourselves at a give-way sign waiting for gaps to appear in some very busy evening traffic. I managed to find a smallish gap and then cycled slowly waiting for the others to catch up. I eventually reached the bridge where we were to cross the river and turn back for our hotels and waited there until the group was back together.
We then cruised through some fairly leafy suburbia and after what seemed a very long while found our turn offs to our hotels. I was in the Ibis with about 22 or so of the group, the rest were billeted in the Campanile which according to reports did a much better meal than the one we ended up with. Disturbingly, the Ibis was inside a fenced off compound and surrounded by what appeared to be the sort of social housing estates that exist in London in places like Peckham Rye, White City and Croydon.
Arrival time was around 6:30, which made for a very long day and even though we'd cycled at the same average as the day before, around 22km/h, we'd obviously had a lot of down time with our various stops during the day. In all, we'd travelled about 135 km for the day.
Feeling totally knackered, Matt offered me a beer but it seemed I'd developed an allergy to the stuff, possibly from the previous night, and I decided it would be better to sort my room out and get changed for dinner. Turns out that the hotel only had 1 vegetarian on it's list out of 7 and our vegetarian meal was boiled rice with carrots and beans. Quite unappetising and difficult to eat, though the company of Angus and Alan and his daughter Claudia and her best friend Carly helped take my mind off what I was eating.
At 8:30 pm I decided to call it quits and headed for bed. That was the third day and, after another Lemsip, I slept until the early hours of the next morning, and that was much better.
After this was all sorted, Nathan, Karen and I continued on some fairly open terrain between various mounds of sugar beet that were deposited by the road side. I had thought they were turnips, but apparently Emma, our resident farm girl, had set Karen straight on the type of vegetable being harvested. In one village, an elderly resident gave us a wave and a cheer of "Allez", which was quite heartening.
Jo went past us in the DA van, heading for the water stop. Karen, Nathan and I were directed slightly further right down a very rough country lane with lots of dirt and mushed up vegetable matter on the road. At least it wasn't fertiliser! We came into a little village and left onto the main road and Nathan and I charged ahead until we heard Karen call us back. Missed an orange arrow, so lucky one of us was paying attention. I'm sure that Nathan has repaid his debt for being saved!
Up another "undulation" just before the water stop and back onto the flat and then off into the forest and stopping by a little lake surrounded by trees. At this point I realised I probably hadn't had enough to drink at the lunch stop as I felt quite light headed and in need of a rest before continuing on. In the end I just sat on the grass for a while, eating and drinking plenty to make sure I could get to Compiegne. Karen and Nathan kindly agreed to take it slowly on the final leg as I wasn't sure I'd make it to the hotel without assistance from the DA team if we kept up our previous pace.
Cat, Emma, Stewart, Claire and Olivia caught up with us and a little later Vicki and Holly arrived. Em tried taking off her cycling outer top without removing her helmet, a tricky manoeuvre that failed miserably. It ended with me unclipping the helmet for her, which is something I've only ever done for my children. Em started getting out her gel packs to see if anyone was interested in them; Em and Nathan were then engaged in some light hearted banter about the opportunities for dealing in gel packs in Wales. They were certainly tastier than the Powerbar ones that I'd brought with me; mind you though it's difficult to disguise the taste of the equivalent of six teaspoons of salt and 50mg of caffeine. I gulped down my gel pack to help with the last 30 km and Nathan, Karen and I headed off for the last leg of the day.
There was a sweeping long down hill into the village of Lachelle, big open road and well made (a general feature of the French roads was that they are less potholed than their British equivalents) and we were able to zoom into the village at high speed. After passing school kids on the way home and crossing a little bridge over a small stream, the buzz from the zoom was tempered by the need to cycle up a fairly steep hill. The next down hill took us to an Artisan boulangerie and choclatiere. The tarte au sucre was great, and Karen had some chocolates but alas there was no cafe to sit and have a coffee or a drink of any sort. Back on the bikes and up another hill to find a very busy dog running up and down chasing the cars and bikes from the inside of its fence. Karen realised she'd left her sun glasses behind and went back to get them while I waited with the dog watching me. The hound was definitely quite annoyed that I wasn't moving, this clearly wasn't part of his game. He started running up and down again when Karen came back and we headed towards Compiegne.
Down the hill, over the railway crossing and we found Cat, Emma, Nathan and others looking to figure out which way we were supposed to go. No orange arrows in Compiegne, so a little tricky to navigate through the town. Google maps works as well in France as it does in the UK, which is fortunate, and just as we'd agreed which way to go, Jo showed up and pointed us in the right direction with the added bonus that we were able to follow her for a while rather than trying to use our tired minds to follow the directions we were given. I think we missed the correct turn to take a diversion under the main road into town and instead found ourselves at a give-way sign waiting for gaps to appear in some very busy evening traffic. I managed to find a smallish gap and then cycled slowly waiting for the others to catch up. I eventually reached the bridge where we were to cross the river and turn back for our hotels and waited there until the group was back together.
We then cruised through some fairly leafy suburbia and after what seemed a very long while found our turn offs to our hotels. I was in the Ibis with about 22 or so of the group, the rest were billeted in the Campanile which according to reports did a much better meal than the one we ended up with. Disturbingly, the Ibis was inside a fenced off compound and surrounded by what appeared to be the sort of social housing estates that exist in London in places like Peckham Rye, White City and Croydon.
Arrival time was around 6:30, which made for a very long day and even though we'd cycled at the same average as the day before, around 22km/h, we'd obviously had a lot of down time with our various stops during the day. In all, we'd travelled about 135 km for the day.
Feeling totally knackered, Matt offered me a beer but it seemed I'd developed an allergy to the stuff, possibly from the previous night, and I decided it would be better to sort my room out and get changed for dinner. Turns out that the hotel only had 1 vegetarian on it's list out of 7 and our vegetarian meal was boiled rice with carrots and beans. Quite unappetising and difficult to eat, though the company of Angus and Alan and his daughter Claudia and her best friend Carly helped take my mind off what I was eating.
At 8:30 pm I decided to call it quits and headed for bed. That was the third day and, after another Lemsip, I slept until the early hours of the next morning, and that was much better.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Day 3 - Arras to Compiegne - Part 1
Another early alarm. My Blackberry starts singing "Chasing Cars" at the usual 6:45am and I stagger up for a Lemsip, pack my bag and get ready for breakfast. Surprisingly I feel OK, but that might be the paracetamol kicking in. Breakfast is in the street level dining room overlooking the paving that leads to the market square and the train station. At 7:30 am on a Friday morning it's surprising to see people hurrying across the brick work towards the station, some even breaking into a little jog.
Another great breakfast with plenty of fresh croissants, baguettes and boiled eggs. A dodgy orange juicer for use with whole oranges seemed to make more noise than was warranted, given the amount of juice it was producing. Lots of people milling around, some looking a little lost or just stunned; breakfast with Dave was quiet by my standards. This was due to the fact that I could barely talk, a fact that may have related to the bug I was carrying rather than the small amount of Stella I'd consumed the night before.
Finish breakfast, clear out my room, bags in the hall for delivery to DA and the Hotel Ibis in Compiegne and then off to the balcony to find my bike. A little tricky due to the sheer number of bikes squashed together. I carried out a few bikes before mine could be retrieved. Lots of bikes on the ramp outside the hotel, and strangely not too many owners to claim them. Interesting to be leaving from the side of a reasonably busy city road where local buses would come round the corner and charge up the hill while avoiding the milling cyclists and DA vans that were hogging their lane.
Another lovely cool morning, not too cold, but just right for another day of cycling. I wasn't too keen to get started and watched two waves of people leave for the top of the hill. Then I noticed that both lots I'd seen depart were just sitting at the lights waiting to turn left. After a short pause, I decided I might as well join up. Quick sprint to the lights. And stop. We seemed to wait for ages, in reality not more than a couple of minutes; even pressing the button for the pedestrian light didn't facilitate a change. Finally the lights went green and we were able to get underway for the day.
Long straight road heading south out of Arras with a few lights at junctions but not much traffic along the way. I was tailing Alex and Matt when a Porsche overtook me, separating me from them. The driver was clearly frustrated by having to keep to the 30 km/h speed limit and started revving his engine and threatening to overtake them but was thwarted by the nasty bumpy separator in the middle of the road. Eventually he managed to whiz round and head off for his very important appointment.
At this point I realised I couldn't keep up with Alex and Matt; they were too far ahead of me to chase as we turned onto a track with a sign saying that only farm machinery could use the path ahead. As this was our signed route, we just followed it through the fields; it was quite rough and not great for cycling. Here I was cycling along with Olivia and Claire and again it was the pleasant chitter chatter along the way that helped keep our minds off the distance in front of us and just enjoy the moment cycling. Claire insisted in cycling in 8th gear, which is really hard work on the legs. Apparently a friend she cycled with used to call the higher, easier, gears "Granny Gear" and taunt here about cycling in granny gear when they were going to work. Olivia on the other hand had joined a cycling group and was really quick up the hills and zipped along at great speed. We passed through some small towns and at one point over took a group who were watching one of their number get up from the road side; apparently one of them had touched some scree at high speed and suddenly found themselves lying on the road.
We continued on to the water stop at Thiepval which is located at the Thiepval Memorial to the Missing, a massive monument containing the names of over 75,000 French and British soldiers whose bodies were never recovered. Alex found his grandfather's name on one of the plaques, which was quite humbling as it's hard to appreciate just what those soldiers went through in the name of a very stupid war.
Back on the bikes and Claire, Olivia and I headed off for the next stop and continued through the side roads before getting onto a more main road and then heading up a hill to stop at a panoramic view looking over the marshy expanse of the Somme. At this point the weather, which had slowly been getting colder and grayer, finally decided it was time to rain. Fortunately this was the only time on the whole trip we had any precipitation whilst cycling, but it was a little tricky heading down the hill to the river as the water on the road made for wet brake pads and almost no stopping power. There was another climb to a ridge above Eclusier Vaux and as we cycled along the wet road, Olivia reached for her water bottle, clipped the soft verge of the road and fell off her bike, hitting her elbow on the tarmac and giving her shin a good scrape. I stopped and looked back to see her lying under her bike, which is a very unusual way to crash. This was also quite worrying as the shock caused Olivia to get cold and start shivering; we were a long way from lunch and hadn't seen the DA team since the water stop. Turns out Olivia was OK, some antiseptic wipes and the application of a plaster and then back on the bikes again.
Down hill into the transcendently beautiful Eclusier Vaux; a series of lakes and trees with the road passing between them into the village. Local people fishing and canoing in the still, mirror like waters that ran past the village. I could have stopped here for the day. We passed through the village and saw the orange arrows pointing left up a hill and as we headed out of the village we met a group of school students heading down the hill back where we'd been. Later we found out that others who reached the same village saw the orange arrows pointing right and had managed to get totally lost. No prizes for guessing who changed the direction of these arrows!
Karen caught up with us at this village and a number of us continued towards our luncheon prize. Along the way we swapped our stories of why we were raising money for Alzheimer's. My grandmother had suffered from dementia and it was just the gradual loss of her that seemed so sad. When my father moved his mother from her him, she spent 8 months living with us before my father could find her a bed in a nursing home. I just remember my father having a really tough time with the challenges of my Grandma's mental state and the difficulties he went through trying to find her a decent place to live.
We managed to get over a major motorway and over a busy crossroad without further incident, passing Stan with a flat tire on onr really dodgy side ride and past Jo who was mending puncture 72 for the day. Then it was onto the final stretch to find the lunch stop. And no food.
Apparently the lunch crew thought they were supposed to wait for Jo to arrive before they could serve up lunch. According to Jo when we were having dinner, lunch was supposed to be ready for 11:30 am. Net results, 20 or so damp, very hungry and very cold cyclists waiting to get something to eat whose patience was wearing quite thin. One of the DA vans showed up and the food magically appeared. By this time though, 75 year old John with one eye had decided he'd prefer to head off and keep warm rather than hanging around freezing to death and was arguing the point with the DA crew member. Matt was shaking at the picnic table with a plate of food and starting to turn an alarming color of purple. Our very sensible DA rep quickly took out blankets for the colder ones and old John was sat in the passenger seat of the van with the heater running to warm him up. I've a great photo of a motley mob of refugees in the back of the DA van scarfing down their lunch and trying to warm up by sharing body heat like penguins. While we were there, the sun came out and for me it was refreshingly warm just to stand in the shelter of the DA van and warm up in the glorious sunshine.
This was a long stop; the DA team didn't want us to head off until Jo had caught up (lots of punctures on some of the more scrappy roads we'd been on) as they needed to have one of the DA vans ahead of us for the second water stop. We ended up hanging around for a quite a while until everyone had eaten and sorted themselves out. This was quite a low point for some people as it was just chaotic and unpleasant to be so cold and hungry
Another great breakfast with plenty of fresh croissants, baguettes and boiled eggs. A dodgy orange juicer for use with whole oranges seemed to make more noise than was warranted, given the amount of juice it was producing. Lots of people milling around, some looking a little lost or just stunned; breakfast with Dave was quiet by my standards. This was due to the fact that I could barely talk, a fact that may have related to the bug I was carrying rather than the small amount of Stella I'd consumed the night before.
Finish breakfast, clear out my room, bags in the hall for delivery to DA and the Hotel Ibis in Compiegne and then off to the balcony to find my bike. A little tricky due to the sheer number of bikes squashed together. I carried out a few bikes before mine could be retrieved. Lots of bikes on the ramp outside the hotel, and strangely not too many owners to claim them. Interesting to be leaving from the side of a reasonably busy city road where local buses would come round the corner and charge up the hill while avoiding the milling cyclists and DA vans that were hogging their lane.
Another lovely cool morning, not too cold, but just right for another day of cycling. I wasn't too keen to get started and watched two waves of people leave for the top of the hill. Then I noticed that both lots I'd seen depart were just sitting at the lights waiting to turn left. After a short pause, I decided I might as well join up. Quick sprint to the lights. And stop. We seemed to wait for ages, in reality not more than a couple of minutes; even pressing the button for the pedestrian light didn't facilitate a change. Finally the lights went green and we were able to get underway for the day.
Long straight road heading south out of Arras with a few lights at junctions but not much traffic along the way. I was tailing Alex and Matt when a Porsche overtook me, separating me from them. The driver was clearly frustrated by having to keep to the 30 km/h speed limit and started revving his engine and threatening to overtake them but was thwarted by the nasty bumpy separator in the middle of the road. Eventually he managed to whiz round and head off for his very important appointment.
At this point I realised I couldn't keep up with Alex and Matt; they were too far ahead of me to chase as we turned onto a track with a sign saying that only farm machinery could use the path ahead. As this was our signed route, we just followed it through the fields; it was quite rough and not great for cycling. Here I was cycling along with Olivia and Claire and again it was the pleasant chitter chatter along the way that helped keep our minds off the distance in front of us and just enjoy the moment cycling. Claire insisted in cycling in 8th gear, which is really hard work on the legs. Apparently a friend she cycled with used to call the higher, easier, gears "Granny Gear" and taunt here about cycling in granny gear when they were going to work. Olivia on the other hand had joined a cycling group and was really quick up the hills and zipped along at great speed. We passed through some small towns and at one point over took a group who were watching one of their number get up from the road side; apparently one of them had touched some scree at high speed and suddenly found themselves lying on the road.
We continued on to the water stop at Thiepval which is located at the Thiepval Memorial to the Missing, a massive monument containing the names of over 75,000 French and British soldiers whose bodies were never recovered. Alex found his grandfather's name on one of the plaques, which was quite humbling as it's hard to appreciate just what those soldiers went through in the name of a very stupid war.
Back on the bikes and Claire, Olivia and I headed off for the next stop and continued through the side roads before getting onto a more main road and then heading up a hill to stop at a panoramic view looking over the marshy expanse of the Somme. At this point the weather, which had slowly been getting colder and grayer, finally decided it was time to rain. Fortunately this was the only time on the whole trip we had any precipitation whilst cycling, but it was a little tricky heading down the hill to the river as the water on the road made for wet brake pads and almost no stopping power. There was another climb to a ridge above Eclusier Vaux and as we cycled along the wet road, Olivia reached for her water bottle, clipped the soft verge of the road and fell off her bike, hitting her elbow on the tarmac and giving her shin a good scrape. I stopped and looked back to see her lying under her bike, which is a very unusual way to crash. This was also quite worrying as the shock caused Olivia to get cold and start shivering; we were a long way from lunch and hadn't seen the DA team since the water stop. Turns out Olivia was OK, some antiseptic wipes and the application of a plaster and then back on the bikes again.
Down hill into the transcendently beautiful Eclusier Vaux; a series of lakes and trees with the road passing between them into the village. Local people fishing and canoing in the still, mirror like waters that ran past the village. I could have stopped here for the day. We passed through the village and saw the orange arrows pointing left up a hill and as we headed out of the village we met a group of school students heading down the hill back where we'd been. Later we found out that others who reached the same village saw the orange arrows pointing right and had managed to get totally lost. No prizes for guessing who changed the direction of these arrows!
Karen caught up with us at this village and a number of us continued towards our luncheon prize. Along the way we swapped our stories of why we were raising money for Alzheimer's. My grandmother had suffered from dementia and it was just the gradual loss of her that seemed so sad. When my father moved his mother from her him, she spent 8 months living with us before my father could find her a bed in a nursing home. I just remember my father having a really tough time with the challenges of my Grandma's mental state and the difficulties he went through trying to find her a decent place to live.
We managed to get over a major motorway and over a busy crossroad without further incident, passing Stan with a flat tire on onr really dodgy side ride and past Jo who was mending puncture 72 for the day. Then it was onto the final stretch to find the lunch stop. And no food.
Apparently the lunch crew thought they were supposed to wait for Jo to arrive before they could serve up lunch. According to Jo when we were having dinner, lunch was supposed to be ready for 11:30 am. Net results, 20 or so damp, very hungry and very cold cyclists waiting to get something to eat whose patience was wearing quite thin. One of the DA vans showed up and the food magically appeared. By this time though, 75 year old John with one eye had decided he'd prefer to head off and keep warm rather than hanging around freezing to death and was arguing the point with the DA crew member. Matt was shaking at the picnic table with a plate of food and starting to turn an alarming color of purple. Our very sensible DA rep quickly took out blankets for the colder ones and old John was sat in the passenger seat of the van with the heater running to warm him up. I've a great photo of a motley mob of refugees in the back of the DA van scarfing down their lunch and trying to warm up by sharing body heat like penguins. While we were there, the sun came out and for me it was refreshingly warm just to stand in the shelter of the DA van and warm up in the glorious sunshine.
This was a long stop; the DA team didn't want us to head off until Jo had caught up (lots of punctures on some of the more scrappy roads we'd been on) as they needed to have one of the DA vans ahead of us for the second water stop. We ended up hanging around for a quite a while until everyone had eaten and sorted themselves out. This was quite a low point for some people as it was just chaotic and unpleasant to be so cold and hungry
Friday, September 30, 2011
Day 2 - Calais to Arras - Part 2
Back on the bike after lunch, but I was a bit slow to tag along with some of the others and too quick for the rest who were still lunching. That meant I ended up cycling on my own for the next 32 km/20 mile stretch to the second water stop for the day. Which seemed a whole lot longer than it should have been, and definitely was not fun.
I stopped for a few photo opportunities along the way. One house I passed had a large drive and lots of figurines on the window sills and patio, plus fountain, seats and planters. Another stop at the Cafe du Centre, labelled "Chez Isabelle", was ferme. In fact, this was quite a feature of the three days before we reached Paris. We all had expectations of being able to stop at little Cafes for coffee and pastries but most of the towns we passed through seemed deserted and Cafes were non-existent or closed.
There was one large "undulation" of 130 metres across a kilometre, and then the terrain flattened out, or indeed seemed to be a bit more down hill. There was a right hand turn across a set of railway tracks and I had to wait for the crossing gates to lift before continuing on. Heading to the water stop a sign to the right said "Arras 10 km" but the orange arrows were pointing left; by my rough calculations we still had more than 30 kilometres to travel on our route and it was a real downer to know that there was more than an hour to go before stopping. Apparently the right hand turn led to the motor way, a less than ideal route for us amateurs to be taking. This didn't stop a few people from attempting to take the short cut.
Water stop was just a lay-by with a fenced off sports field. Jack had overtaken me well before I reached the stop and he was there along with a few others who I'd seen in the distance but just couldn't keep up with. Karen arrived shortly after, having covered the route on her own as well. John the Builder was grumping around as his knees hurt and he just wanted the day to be over with. The rest of us seemed quite happy with our progress and were keen to get to Arras and end the day.
Karen, Jack and I headed off for the final leg into Arras. We'd been told that the orange arrows would disappear just before we reached the town and I don't think one of us quite remembered exactly which direction we were supposed to take when we arrived.
The road in was more urban, with a few twists and turns in towns as we closed in on the outskirts of Arras. At one point my legs started feeling tired and I moaned something to Karen about not being able to keep up. Employing all of her experience as a fitness trainer, she just ignored me and I'm sure that she started to peddle faster. I just did my best to try and keep up.
Arras is a big town and we continued to follow the signs for the centre. At one point we were concerned about the direction we were taking, so Karen stopped some of the locals to check exactly which way we needed to go to find the train station. They pointed us along the street we were on, so we just kept on keeping on. Ian and Barry caught up with us at a set of lights not far from our hotel. I nearly managed to run a red light, but Barry's voice kept me from taking on the traffic crossing from our left.
At the hotel, right in the centre of Arras by the main square and train station, we found our way up to the balcony and parked up our bikes. Jenny from DA helped me sort out a room and then it was off for a shower and change and ready to relax in the late afternoon sunshine. I found Cat enjoying a beer and introduced myself to Nathan and sat down with them to enjoy a large Stella. And another one. Then we decided to move on and found Matt, Alex and assorted others sitting at another bar. This forced us to stop for a couple more Stella's.
Dinner was in the hotel next to ours, so we all headed over to for a lovely risotto and more beer. At dinner on my table I met Stewart, born a Pom but talks Kiwi, along with Holly, and Vicki who were travelling together and we were sat with Angus, Cat and Nathan and had a great evening chatting away. I recall Vivienne and blond haired Nicky arriving well into dinner to a huge round of applause - I hope that helped lift their spirits after what sounded like a really tough day. Then back to the hotel and Matt made me drink another pint of Stella as the fitter ones kept up a tough pace.
Bed and lots of water were quite welcome, but I woke at 3 in the morning unable to breathe properly and my throat was really sore. Lemsip, more water, lay in bed to watch TV, more water as I realised that I did need to re-hydrate after cycling all day, more water, more water. Dodgy French/Canadian Sci-Horror called "Splice" about a scientist couple who genetically engineer a monster. Finally fell asleep around half four in the morning. That was the second day, it was was really very good.
I stopped for a few photo opportunities along the way. One house I passed had a large drive and lots of figurines on the window sills and patio, plus fountain, seats and planters. Another stop at the Cafe du Centre, labelled "Chez Isabelle", was ferme. In fact, this was quite a feature of the three days before we reached Paris. We all had expectations of being able to stop at little Cafes for coffee and pastries but most of the towns we passed through seemed deserted and Cafes were non-existent or closed.
There was one large "undulation" of 130 metres across a kilometre, and then the terrain flattened out, or indeed seemed to be a bit more down hill. There was a right hand turn across a set of railway tracks and I had to wait for the crossing gates to lift before continuing on. Heading to the water stop a sign to the right said "Arras 10 km" but the orange arrows were pointing left; by my rough calculations we still had more than 30 kilometres to travel on our route and it was a real downer to know that there was more than an hour to go before stopping. Apparently the right hand turn led to the motor way, a less than ideal route for us amateurs to be taking. This didn't stop a few people from attempting to take the short cut.
Water stop was just a lay-by with a fenced off sports field. Jack had overtaken me well before I reached the stop and he was there along with a few others who I'd seen in the distance but just couldn't keep up with. Karen arrived shortly after, having covered the route on her own as well. John the Builder was grumping around as his knees hurt and he just wanted the day to be over with. The rest of us seemed quite happy with our progress and were keen to get to Arras and end the day.
Karen, Jack and I headed off for the final leg into Arras. We'd been told that the orange arrows would disappear just before we reached the town and I don't think one of us quite remembered exactly which direction we were supposed to take when we arrived.
The road in was more urban, with a few twists and turns in towns as we closed in on the outskirts of Arras. At one point my legs started feeling tired and I moaned something to Karen about not being able to keep up. Employing all of her experience as a fitness trainer, she just ignored me and I'm sure that she started to peddle faster. I just did my best to try and keep up.
Arras is a big town and we continued to follow the signs for the centre. At one point we were concerned about the direction we were taking, so Karen stopped some of the locals to check exactly which way we needed to go to find the train station. They pointed us along the street we were on, so we just kept on keeping on. Ian and Barry caught up with us at a set of lights not far from our hotel. I nearly managed to run a red light, but Barry's voice kept me from taking on the traffic crossing from our left.
At the hotel, right in the centre of Arras by the main square and train station, we found our way up to the balcony and parked up our bikes. Jenny from DA helped me sort out a room and then it was off for a shower and change and ready to relax in the late afternoon sunshine. I found Cat enjoying a beer and introduced myself to Nathan and sat down with them to enjoy a large Stella. And another one. Then we decided to move on and found Matt, Alex and assorted others sitting at another bar. This forced us to stop for a couple more Stella's.
Dinner was in the hotel next to ours, so we all headed over to for a lovely risotto and more beer. At dinner on my table I met Stewart, born a Pom but talks Kiwi, along with Holly, and Vicki who were travelling together and we were sat with Angus, Cat and Nathan and had a great evening chatting away. I recall Vivienne and blond haired Nicky arriving well into dinner to a huge round of applause - I hope that helped lift their spirits after what sounded like a really tough day. Then back to the hotel and Matt made me drink another pint of Stella as the fitter ones kept up a tough pace.
Bed and lots of water were quite welcome, but I woke at 3 in the morning unable to breathe properly and my throat was really sore. Lemsip, more water, lay in bed to watch TV, more water as I realised that I did need to re-hydrate after cycling all day, more water, more water. Dodgy French/Canadian Sci-Horror called "Splice" about a scientist couple who genetically engineer a monster. Finally fell asleep around half four in the morning. That was the second day, it was was really very good.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Cycling to Paris: Day 2 Calais to Arras - Part 1
Up bright and early, silly o'clock is the technical term for being on holiday and out of bed before 7am, and down for breakfast. The great thing about being in France is plenty of freshly baked croissants and baguettes. Excellent food if you're going to be cycling all day. The Kyriad provided a lot of them and I managed to consume quite a few, washed down with orange juice and a couple of eggs. Lovely view from the breakfast room of the mini golf course next door and a large number of beach huts on the plage.
My room mate informed me that I'd snored the night before. If my wife says this, it's equivalent to her saying that she was camped at Victoria Bus Station pretending to sleep while every thirty seconds a fleet of buses departed. It's that bad when I have a throat infection. Decided that it might be best to see if I could get a single room for the rest of the trip.
Bag packed and in the front room and ready to go. I asked Jo to have a look at my brake pads as the front brake kept screeching down the frame when I used it. Note to self: must learn how to replace and realign brakes. Then I checked the tyres and decided the front one needed more air. Undo Presta valve, get large bike pump, inflate tyre to correct pressure and remove pump. Presta valves blows out and tyre goes flat. Bother. Take off wheel, replace tube, put tyre back on and reattach wheel and inflate new tube to correct pressure. This means I'm the last to leave the hotel at about 8:30 and tootle off looking for orange arrows to head out of town. I bumped into Mark from DA who promptly ended up with a flat and headed back.
Calais is nice enough, but when looking for orange arrows it's difficult to remember much than a bunch of roundabouts and a bridge before getting onto the main road out of town. The morning was beautifully sunny and the fresh air felt great on my face as I cycled along. Left over a bridge and past some fields, and then right onto a long flat D road beside a canal. Lots of interesting houses on the other side of the canal, all with little bridges that provided access to them. Really pretty, especially with the dew rising into a morning mist.
I cruised past three locals who were out for a morning cycle and worked myself up to a speed of about 30km/h for the next half hour. At one point I noticed that Stan was sitting on my shoulder enjoying the tow; it was certainly a great feeling to be zipping along and be quick enough to stay out in front.
The canals gave way to a larger road and Stan and I caught up with a group who'd made a stop in Louches; one of them needed to visit a local bike shop to sort out a wheel. Apparently one guy had a stick catch in his rear wheel and throw him off on the first day, which sounds nasty but luckily he weren't hurt. It also meant the wheel was not running true and needed sorting.
Ten minutes later and we were heading up a smaller hill and getting closer to the first water stop. After going up one reasonably small hill we were then faced with a climb of about 110 metres spread over 2 km. It doesn't sound much when you write it down. But being novice cyclists it seemed quite a long way. We were catching up with a few of the slower people who'd chosen to get off their bikes and admire the view on the way to the top. At the top of the ridge I took a great photo of some cows heading towards us; brilliant blue sky in the background with low white cloud on the horizon, all quite breathtaking.
Water stop was at the top of the next ridge in a car park, right in the middle of a national park. Very peaceful surrounds as there were only a couple of cars. Surrounded by trees and the sounds of wildlife, I could easily have spent the rest of the day sitting there. At the supply table, the rotten bananas from day 1 had disappeared and were replaced by varying sorts of biscuits. The routine was a little more familiar; drink plenty of water with some cordial in it. Fill up your water bottle, have an energy bar, drink more water, top up the water bottle and get back on the road.
Back out onto the road and I was travelling with the Uni team as we headed onto one of the better quality D roads that took us through two larger towns on the way to lunch. At one point I was chatting with Nick and mentioned that the road headed up the hill and over to the right. He queried if I'd been this way before; it never occurred to me that looking ahead and noticing that there were trees higher up with a gap between them was a useful skill!
At some point I left the Uni crew behind and started tailing Stan again and in one of the towns Karen caught up with us. It was around this time that I had one of my first "wobbles"; I went round a corner going up a hill and suddenly felt "wrong" all over. A weird sort of dizzy feeling, like all the blood is leaving your body. I figured it was a lack of food; 1 energy bar later and I was feeling alright again. Chatting to Karen, turns out that her bike was the one with the broken chain from the day before. Mike couldn't get the connecting pin sorted and it broke, leaving Karen to spend most of day one either in one of the vans or riding a bike that was too large for her. This all sounded very frustrating.
Going up another "undulation" before lunch, Stan started on a few songs to keep us going on the incline. Roger Miller's "King of the Road" was one of them. My lack of speaking ability due to my dodgy throat was a boon for my cycling mates as it prevented me from singing tonelessly loud. Stan started to put in a sprint to the luncheon; obviously keen to get plates full of the sumptuous feast that awaited us.
On the next undulation, there were a few cows loose on the road. A number of fellow cyclists all concluded that cows in France come equipped with horns. This makes it difficult to know if they are boys or girls. At lunch I discovered that Cat and Emma were quite worried by the appearance of these marauders threatening to take them out on what was an otherwise quiet roadside, so much so they were unable to identify the sex of the animals. I believe that, based on the udders on show, they were girls and relatively benign. Not that I was willing to tempt fate and just kept going.
On the map, lunch was somewhere near Perne; going up another longish undulation there was a large and very welcome sign saying "Lunch" with an arrow to the left. A slight downhill and bend took me to a playing field with the vans parked up and lunch tent ready to serve.
Matt and Alex had arrived well ahead of me, having got a head start on the day, and there were about 20 or so of the group there, including Stan.
Another big serving of all sorts of food; pasta, salads, mint cucumbers (very interesting) and lots for the carnivores. I grabbed mine and sat at one of the picnic tables and met Cat who filled me in on the problems with the cows.
We'd covered about 50 miles or 80 kilometres at this point, so we were over halfway for the day, and with the great company along the way all of it had passed by in a flash. Certainly easier than many of the long cycles I'd done on my own.
My room mate informed me that I'd snored the night before. If my wife says this, it's equivalent to her saying that she was camped at Victoria Bus Station pretending to sleep while every thirty seconds a fleet of buses departed. It's that bad when I have a throat infection. Decided that it might be best to see if I could get a single room for the rest of the trip.
Bag packed and in the front room and ready to go. I asked Jo to have a look at my brake pads as the front brake kept screeching down the frame when I used it. Note to self: must learn how to replace and realign brakes. Then I checked the tyres and decided the front one needed more air. Undo Presta valve, get large bike pump, inflate tyre to correct pressure and remove pump. Presta valves blows out and tyre goes flat. Bother. Take off wheel, replace tube, put tyre back on and reattach wheel and inflate new tube to correct pressure. This means I'm the last to leave the hotel at about 8:30 and tootle off looking for orange arrows to head out of town. I bumped into Mark from DA who promptly ended up with a flat and headed back.
Calais is nice enough, but when looking for orange arrows it's difficult to remember much than a bunch of roundabouts and a bridge before getting onto the main road out of town. The morning was beautifully sunny and the fresh air felt great on my face as I cycled along. Left over a bridge and past some fields, and then right onto a long flat D road beside a canal. Lots of interesting houses on the other side of the canal, all with little bridges that provided access to them. Really pretty, especially with the dew rising into a morning mist.
I cruised past three locals who were out for a morning cycle and worked myself up to a speed of about 30km/h for the next half hour. At one point I noticed that Stan was sitting on my shoulder enjoying the tow; it was certainly a great feeling to be zipping along and be quick enough to stay out in front.
The canals gave way to a larger road and Stan and I caught up with a group who'd made a stop in Louches; one of them needed to visit a local bike shop to sort out a wheel. Apparently one guy had a stick catch in his rear wheel and throw him off on the first day, which sounds nasty but luckily he weren't hurt. It also meant the wheel was not running true and needed sorting.
Ten minutes later and we were heading up a smaller hill and getting closer to the first water stop. After going up one reasonably small hill we were then faced with a climb of about 110 metres spread over 2 km. It doesn't sound much when you write it down. But being novice cyclists it seemed quite a long way. We were catching up with a few of the slower people who'd chosen to get off their bikes and admire the view on the way to the top. At the top of the ridge I took a great photo of some cows heading towards us; brilliant blue sky in the background with low white cloud on the horizon, all quite breathtaking.
Water stop was at the top of the next ridge in a car park, right in the middle of a national park. Very peaceful surrounds as there were only a couple of cars. Surrounded by trees and the sounds of wildlife, I could easily have spent the rest of the day sitting there. At the supply table, the rotten bananas from day 1 had disappeared and were replaced by varying sorts of biscuits. The routine was a little more familiar; drink plenty of water with some cordial in it. Fill up your water bottle, have an energy bar, drink more water, top up the water bottle and get back on the road.
Back out onto the road and I was travelling with the Uni team as we headed onto one of the better quality D roads that took us through two larger towns on the way to lunch. At one point I was chatting with Nick and mentioned that the road headed up the hill and over to the right. He queried if I'd been this way before; it never occurred to me that looking ahead and noticing that there were trees higher up with a gap between them was a useful skill!
At some point I left the Uni crew behind and started tailing Stan again and in one of the towns Karen caught up with us. It was around this time that I had one of my first "wobbles"; I went round a corner going up a hill and suddenly felt "wrong" all over. A weird sort of dizzy feeling, like all the blood is leaving your body. I figured it was a lack of food; 1 energy bar later and I was feeling alright again. Chatting to Karen, turns out that her bike was the one with the broken chain from the day before. Mike couldn't get the connecting pin sorted and it broke, leaving Karen to spend most of day one either in one of the vans or riding a bike that was too large for her. This all sounded very frustrating.
Going up another "undulation" before lunch, Stan started on a few songs to keep us going on the incline. Roger Miller's "King of the Road" was one of them. My lack of speaking ability due to my dodgy throat was a boon for my cycling mates as it prevented me from singing tonelessly loud. Stan started to put in a sprint to the luncheon; obviously keen to get plates full of the sumptuous feast that awaited us.
On the next undulation, there were a few cows loose on the road. A number of fellow cyclists all concluded that cows in France come equipped with horns. This makes it difficult to know if they are boys or girls. At lunch I discovered that Cat and Emma were quite worried by the appearance of these marauders threatening to take them out on what was an otherwise quiet roadside, so much so they were unable to identify the sex of the animals. I believe that, based on the udders on show, they were girls and relatively benign. Not that I was willing to tempt fate and just kept going.
On the map, lunch was somewhere near Perne; going up another longish undulation there was a large and very welcome sign saying "Lunch" with an arrow to the left. A slight downhill and bend took me to a playing field with the vans parked up and lunch tent ready to serve.
Matt and Alex had arrived well ahead of me, having got a head start on the day, and there were about 20 or so of the group there, including Stan.
Another big serving of all sorts of food; pasta, salads, mint cucumbers (very interesting) and lots for the carnivores. I grabbed mine and sat at one of the picnic tables and met Cat who filled me in on the problems with the cows.
We'd covered about 50 miles or 80 kilometres at this point, so we were over halfway for the day, and with the great company along the way all of it had passed by in a flash. Certainly easier than many of the long cycles I'd done on my own.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Cycling to Paris - Day 1 Part 2
Leaving the second water stop at Stelling Minnis, Matt, Alex and myself
headed for the Port of Dover via a short, steep climb reaching a peak at just
on the other side of Swingfield Minnis. Keeping me going was Matt's
suggestion of fish and chips in Dover. At the water stop, Matt had
sounded out Mark, the mechanic, for advice on decent watering holes along the
way into Dover but after cycling past some unappealing places we just ploughed
ahead and into Dover. None of us fancied eating ferry food.
The castle was on the hill above us to our left and the orange arrows continued to show the way to our destination. A quick stop at Morrison's for cash and cold spray for Matt's knee and then a right turn and another right at the roundabout and up a short hill and we found a decent looking cafe to sit down for a meal. We ordered large fish and chips and a beer and what arrived was truly magnificent. Freshly cooked, beautifully prepared cod and chips that were clearly cooked in some very fresh oil. Along with a cool glass of lager, you couldn't ask for more. Even if I drove down for the day, it wouldn't taste that good.
Back on the bikes and we started following more orange arrows which we'd noticed from the sidewalk whilst watching other charity riders go by. Down the hill, left at the roundabout and then into a car park to find ourselves amongst a complete group of strangers and, more importantly, no Discover Adventure banner and no sign of the Tourist Centre that we were supposed to stop at. Matt just kept going and we headed straight through the car park and found ourselves on the right road with the right orange signs to guide us. We arrived after about two thirds of the group had already parked up, which meant time for a few snaps of us standing outside the port and then we headed round the cycle paths to get our tickets.
Parking lane139 at 18:40 said our tickets. Given that it was about quarter past 5, which meant a long stay hanging around in the port getting cold. We even had a curmudgeonly dock worker tell us how dangerous it was to ride around in our high viz gear with all the heavy trucks charging to and from the ferries. There was a collective debunking of walking to our destination, so back on the bikes and a 5 minute cycle to reach our departure point. This turned out to be literally a line numbered 139 in the car park. Offering no shelter from the nagging wind, someone pointed to the services and we all scurried to it in the hope of warmth, a loo stop and a nice cup of hot fresh tea.
Inside there was Costa Coffee and a WH Smith and some horrible smelling fast food place. If you've ever travelled in the UK you'll know that all motorway stops, ferry ports and the Channel Tunnel offer exactly the same formula. Overpriced food that you would only buy if you had nowhere else to go that's served by teenagers with, judging by the state of their nails, questionable personal hygiene. With everyone inside the building, there was still the excited buzz of first day chatter as the little groups who'd travelled together sat down to recap what had happened. Lots of talk about punctures and falling off (mostly those new to wearing clip-ins) and looking forward to reaching Calais. I also met Rachel and Angus from the Alzheimer's team who were doing the whole ride, which I thought was quite impressive and I later found that the DA team thought the same as they normally end up ferrying charity reps between the stops.
Another briefing from Jo, telling us about having to walk onto the ferry due to the metallic nature of the ramp and the risk of falling off and hurting ourselves, and we were off to get our bikes. And stand in the wind waiting to board. We walked over the ramp and had our bikes stacked at the end of the ferry by some churlish French stevedores who seemed affronted by our temerity to bring so many bikes onto their boat. With bikes safely chained up we made our way into the seating on the boat and waited for the bars and restaurants to open. By this stage, I was smugly thinking how great it was to have had a proper meal before leaving. Ferry food is, by all accounts, even less appetising then ferry services food. Still, the lager was cold and wet and that was good.
At Calais we were the last off the ferry, which seemed to take ages to unload the trucks in a pattern designed to stop it from overturning, while we waited in the diesel fumes for our chance to disembark. After being released, we headed over the front gangway and into the car park to meet up with the DA team. Unfortunately we had the wrong car park but, after a quick call to Jo, we headed up over a road bridge and down to where we should have been, between the two DA vehicles that would convoy us to our hotels.
We had to wait for a group of 100 or so charity cyclists to go past before we took off into the night. No passport checks either, despite having it to hand all day. We cycled through the very quiet streets of Calais before the bulk of our peleton was delivered to the more central of the two hotels. A smaller group of about 22, including me, headed for the Kyriad Plage, arriving about 10 minutes later at our chosen point. The bike lock up was a conference room in the hotel which also contained the welcome sight of our backs waiting for collection.
I found my way to my room and talked to Dave my roommate about him getting the first shower while I admired just how small the twin bed room was; one which I was about to share with some random bloke I'd just met earlier that day. I wandered back out to talk to the DA reps on some random topic and then chatted to Rachel as we headed back to the rooms. Dave headed off for a beer, so I grabbed a shower and put on the kettle to make a Lemsip. I really didn't feel like drinking, I just wanted to lie in my bed and get some sleep and try and shake off this sick feeling. I tried writing down what we'd done that day, but started to just nod straight off, so I put my iPod on and passed out.
135km travelled, including the bit to the hotel in Calais. 6 hours 30 minutes on the bike plus a couple of hours of stops for food, water and the 90 minutes spent crossing the English channel plus unrecorded down time waiting around to get on and off the ferry. Bed was probably around 11pm French time. That was the first day.
The castle was on the hill above us to our left and the orange arrows continued to show the way to our destination. A quick stop at Morrison's for cash and cold spray for Matt's knee and then a right turn and another right at the roundabout and up a short hill and we found a decent looking cafe to sit down for a meal. We ordered large fish and chips and a beer and what arrived was truly magnificent. Freshly cooked, beautifully prepared cod and chips that were clearly cooked in some very fresh oil. Along with a cool glass of lager, you couldn't ask for more. Even if I drove down for the day, it wouldn't taste that good.
Back on the bikes and we started following more orange arrows which we'd noticed from the sidewalk whilst watching other charity riders go by. Down the hill, left at the roundabout and then into a car park to find ourselves amongst a complete group of strangers and, more importantly, no Discover Adventure banner and no sign of the Tourist Centre that we were supposed to stop at. Matt just kept going and we headed straight through the car park and found ourselves on the right road with the right orange signs to guide us. We arrived after about two thirds of the group had already parked up, which meant time for a few snaps of us standing outside the port and then we headed round the cycle paths to get our tickets.
Parking lane139 at 18:40 said our tickets. Given that it was about quarter past 5, which meant a long stay hanging around in the port getting cold. We even had a curmudgeonly dock worker tell us how dangerous it was to ride around in our high viz gear with all the heavy trucks charging to and from the ferries. There was a collective debunking of walking to our destination, so back on the bikes and a 5 minute cycle to reach our departure point. This turned out to be literally a line numbered 139 in the car park. Offering no shelter from the nagging wind, someone pointed to the services and we all scurried to it in the hope of warmth, a loo stop and a nice cup of hot fresh tea.
Inside there was Costa Coffee and a WH Smith and some horrible smelling fast food place. If you've ever travelled in the UK you'll know that all motorway stops, ferry ports and the Channel Tunnel offer exactly the same formula. Overpriced food that you would only buy if you had nowhere else to go that's served by teenagers with, judging by the state of their nails, questionable personal hygiene. With everyone inside the building, there was still the excited buzz of first day chatter as the little groups who'd travelled together sat down to recap what had happened. Lots of talk about punctures and falling off (mostly those new to wearing clip-ins) and looking forward to reaching Calais. I also met Rachel and Angus from the Alzheimer's team who were doing the whole ride, which I thought was quite impressive and I later found that the DA team thought the same as they normally end up ferrying charity reps between the stops.
Another briefing from Jo, telling us about having to walk onto the ferry due to the metallic nature of the ramp and the risk of falling off and hurting ourselves, and we were off to get our bikes. And stand in the wind waiting to board. We walked over the ramp and had our bikes stacked at the end of the ferry by some churlish French stevedores who seemed affronted by our temerity to bring so many bikes onto their boat. With bikes safely chained up we made our way into the seating on the boat and waited for the bars and restaurants to open. By this stage, I was smugly thinking how great it was to have had a proper meal before leaving. Ferry food is, by all accounts, even less appetising then ferry services food. Still, the lager was cold and wet and that was good.
At Calais we were the last off the ferry, which seemed to take ages to unload the trucks in a pattern designed to stop it from overturning, while we waited in the diesel fumes for our chance to disembark. After being released, we headed over the front gangway and into the car park to meet up with the DA team. Unfortunately we had the wrong car park but, after a quick call to Jo, we headed up over a road bridge and down to where we should have been, between the two DA vehicles that would convoy us to our hotels.
We had to wait for a group of 100 or so charity cyclists to go past before we took off into the night. No passport checks either, despite having it to hand all day. We cycled through the very quiet streets of Calais before the bulk of our peleton was delivered to the more central of the two hotels. A smaller group of about 22, including me, headed for the Kyriad Plage, arriving about 10 minutes later at our chosen point. The bike lock up was a conference room in the hotel which also contained the welcome sight of our backs waiting for collection.
I found my way to my room and talked to Dave my roommate about him getting the first shower while I admired just how small the twin bed room was; one which I was about to share with some random bloke I'd just met earlier that day. I wandered back out to talk to the DA reps on some random topic and then chatted to Rachel as we headed back to the rooms. Dave headed off for a beer, so I grabbed a shower and put on the kettle to make a Lemsip. I really didn't feel like drinking, I just wanted to lie in my bed and get some sleep and try and shake off this sick feeling. I tried writing down what we'd done that day, but started to just nod straight off, so I put my iPod on and passed out.
135km travelled, including the bit to the hotel in Calais. 6 hours 30 minutes on the bike plus a couple of hours of stops for food, water and the 90 minutes spent crossing the English channel plus unrecorded down time waiting around to get on and off the ferry. Bed was probably around 11pm French time. That was the first day.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
What a blast - London to Paris by Cycle Day 1 Part 1
Last time I wrote, I was close to succumbing to a flu like virus that might have kept me from completing my challenge of cycling from London to Paris. Today I'm very pleased to say that it didn't and that I managed the entire 485 kilometres without suffering mechanical, physical or mental failure in the entire time I was on the road.
At the end of the journey, sitting in my hotel room in Paris, I felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment like I've ever felt before. Not even passing my final year of secondary school gave me such a feeling of satisfaction. I've raised over £1,100 for the Alzheimer's society and am really pleased with that too.
The night before leaving I had about five hours of restless, sweat soaked lying on my bed that might be called sleep but felt more like one of those dreams where you're trapped in a sauna.
Without seeing the sun, I crawled out of bed at 5am, finished packing my bag, twice in the end as I swapped to a larger back pack, and put my bike into the back of the car. As my wife drove me to the starting point at Blackheath I felt oddly relaxed as the SatNav assured us we'd arrive in plenty of time but nervous about who and what I would find when I arrived.
At Blackheath the sun was starting to come up and I saw the first of many "Discover Adventure" sails surrounded by cyclists, a welcome sight in the days to come. Check in was pretty simple, swap your name for an envelope containing tags for your bike and bags, a quick check that you were in possession of your passport and then standing around in the biting wind waiting for the first briefing from Jo, the Discover tour lead.
My wife left just before we set off and didn't get home for two hours, which shows just how rubbish traffic in inner London can be. That left me standing with a bunch of strangers in a strange part of London, accompanied by the biting wind of the early morning.
We were then taken through the various health and safety elements of cycling on the road and given instructions to follow the orange arrows as they marked out the route. The first water stop was, we were told, a mere 20 miles, or 32 kilometres, away in the little village of Harvel with a few small hills, or "undulations" as we came to know them, on the way there. How hard could this be?
Starting was a nightmare; a set of temporary lights meant you had 20 cyclists at a time trying to squeeze through the contra-flow and upsetting the gentile London motorists. Once that was out of way, we were heading east into the rising sun and trying to spot our orange triangles. Up Shooters Hill was mostly stop start at the various lights, and with the narrow roads not conducive to getting up a good head of steam, we traveled in single file towards the edge of London. First fall of the day happened when one of the group forget to unclip when stationary. No harm done, just bruised ego! But it was stop-start all the way to the edge of London.
My first experience of being lost made me realise that spotting the orange triangles was one of the most important activities to perform on the trip. Somehow a group of us managed to miss a turn heading out of London and went clockwise around the A207 near Crayford when we should have taken a right and used a different route. Didn't work out badly though, we caught up with the rest of the group shortly after and luckily found ourselves back on the main route.
Once we cleared the M25 the traffic thinned out, as did my companions, and at this point I realised that hills were more problematic than I had supposed. The basic issue with hills is that they tend to go upwards, and when you're on a bicycle this requires you to peddle or you fall off. So far, so good, but I found that I just couldn't get over about 12km/h on any given incline and this didn't improve in the next four days.
Being mindful of not getting lost, and largely being on my own, I kept an eye out for arrows and successfully managed to get to the first water stop in Kent. This was a lovely village green with a couple of trees and the Discover Adventure flag by the way side.
The next 30 miles to lunch all passed by in a blur. Apart from some excitement before lunch where a hare appeared on the road. One of the group started chasing the hare, which took off at about 35 km/h along the road in front of us. Eventually a car overtook us and almost took out the hare which, after a few unsuccessful attempts, managed to find a haven on the other side of a fence.
Eventually we reached the very charming village of Charing in Kent and the orange arrows pointed us right towards a 15th century barn and Bishopric and a church hall for our lunch stop.
Good to get some decent grub and nice to sit out in some sunshine rather than the rain of Blighty these last few weeks. Others started to arrive in dribs and drabs and by the time I was ready to go most of the people had arrived. I wasn't too keen to be on my own, so I tailed along behind a couple of guys who looked like they knew what to do. Matt and Alex, mates from Derby who trained in the Pennines, introduced themselves and I basically tailed along on their wake for the rest of the day.
As we headed further south into Kent, the hills became bigger and more challenging. Particularly interesting was going on very step incline only to find a digger taking up the whole of the lane heading towards us. This was the only time I stopped on a hill as Matt, Alex and myself had to carry our bikes around its enormous wheels and then start peddling uphill again. The Kent lanes were quite small and narrow and dark. We were going down one hill and all of us were wondering what would happen if a car appeared from the other direction; on cue a large Land Rover appeared at the bottom. We were traveling slowly enough to be able to avoid it, but that was quite scary. Alex picked up a puncture and that slowed us down a bit before continuing up the hills and on to the next water stop.
At the van, Mark from DA was wondering if anyone had brought a decent chain tool with them as he was busy trying to repair a chain which he'd fixed earlier but the pin had snapped not long after the owner had ridden off with it. I hadn't brought mine; even though my bike maintenance manual had suggest taking it with me. The unknown recipient of this chain was going to get it back in somewhat dodgy condition.
Next up - Water stop 2 to Dover and onto Calais.
At the end of the journey, sitting in my hotel room in Paris, I felt a tremendous sense of accomplishment like I've ever felt before. Not even passing my final year of secondary school gave me such a feeling of satisfaction. I've raised over £1,100 for the Alzheimer's society and am really pleased with that too.
The night before leaving I had about five hours of restless, sweat soaked lying on my bed that might be called sleep but felt more like one of those dreams where you're trapped in a sauna.
Without seeing the sun, I crawled out of bed at 5am, finished packing my bag, twice in the end as I swapped to a larger back pack, and put my bike into the back of the car. As my wife drove me to the starting point at Blackheath I felt oddly relaxed as the SatNav assured us we'd arrive in plenty of time but nervous about who and what I would find when I arrived.
At Blackheath the sun was starting to come up and I saw the first of many "Discover Adventure" sails surrounded by cyclists, a welcome sight in the days to come. Check in was pretty simple, swap your name for an envelope containing tags for your bike and bags, a quick check that you were in possession of your passport and then standing around in the biting wind waiting for the first briefing from Jo, the Discover tour lead.
My wife left just before we set off and didn't get home for two hours, which shows just how rubbish traffic in inner London can be. That left me standing with a bunch of strangers in a strange part of London, accompanied by the biting wind of the early morning.
We were then taken through the various health and safety elements of cycling on the road and given instructions to follow the orange arrows as they marked out the route. The first water stop was, we were told, a mere 20 miles, or 32 kilometres, away in the little village of Harvel with a few small hills, or "undulations" as we came to know them, on the way there. How hard could this be?
Starting was a nightmare; a set of temporary lights meant you had 20 cyclists at a time trying to squeeze through the contra-flow and upsetting the gentile London motorists. Once that was out of way, we were heading east into the rising sun and trying to spot our orange triangles. Up Shooters Hill was mostly stop start at the various lights, and with the narrow roads not conducive to getting up a good head of steam, we traveled in single file towards the edge of London. First fall of the day happened when one of the group forget to unclip when stationary. No harm done, just bruised ego! But it was stop-start all the way to the edge of London.
My first experience of being lost made me realise that spotting the orange triangles was one of the most important activities to perform on the trip. Somehow a group of us managed to miss a turn heading out of London and went clockwise around the A207 near Crayford when we should have taken a right and used a different route. Didn't work out badly though, we caught up with the rest of the group shortly after and luckily found ourselves back on the main route.
Once we cleared the M25 the traffic thinned out, as did my companions, and at this point I realised that hills were more problematic than I had supposed. The basic issue with hills is that they tend to go upwards, and when you're on a bicycle this requires you to peddle or you fall off. So far, so good, but I found that I just couldn't get over about 12km/h on any given incline and this didn't improve in the next four days.
Being mindful of not getting lost, and largely being on my own, I kept an eye out for arrows and successfully managed to get to the first water stop in Kent. This was a lovely village green with a couple of trees and the Discover Adventure flag by the way side.
The next 30 miles to lunch all passed by in a blur. Apart from some excitement before lunch where a hare appeared on the road. One of the group started chasing the hare, which took off at about 35 km/h along the road in front of us. Eventually a car overtook us and almost took out the hare which, after a few unsuccessful attempts, managed to find a haven on the other side of a fence.
Eventually we reached the very charming village of Charing in Kent and the orange arrows pointed us right towards a 15th century barn and Bishopric and a church hall for our lunch stop.
Good to get some decent grub and nice to sit out in some sunshine rather than the rain of Blighty these last few weeks. Others started to arrive in dribs and drabs and by the time I was ready to go most of the people had arrived. I wasn't too keen to be on my own, so I tailed along behind a couple of guys who looked like they knew what to do. Matt and Alex, mates from Derby who trained in the Pennines, introduced themselves and I basically tailed along on their wake for the rest of the day.
As we headed further south into Kent, the hills became bigger and more challenging. Particularly interesting was going on very step incline only to find a digger taking up the whole of the lane heading towards us. This was the only time I stopped on a hill as Matt, Alex and myself had to carry our bikes around its enormous wheels and then start peddling uphill again. The Kent lanes were quite small and narrow and dark. We were going down one hill and all of us were wondering what would happen if a car appeared from the other direction; on cue a large Land Rover appeared at the bottom. We were traveling slowly enough to be able to avoid it, but that was quite scary. Alex picked up a puncture and that slowed us down a bit before continuing up the hills and on to the next water stop.
At the van, Mark from DA was wondering if anyone had brought a decent chain tool with them as he was busy trying to repair a chain which he'd fixed earlier but the pin had snapped not long after the owner had ridden off with it. I hadn't brought mine; even though my bike maintenance manual had suggest taking it with me. The unknown recipient of this chain was going to get it back in somewhat dodgy condition.
Next up - Water stop 2 to Dover and onto Calais.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Almost ready to go
Dear Friends, almost ready indeed. Just need to gather up my belongings in my kit bag, including spare tyres and caffeinated goo for the days when I'm running out of energy, find my passport and make sure I've a few Euros in the wallet for snacks along the way.
I also need to shake off this snotty throat infection that one of my children brought back from a recent holiday. I won't go into detail, just would like to say that I'm not ill and will be pushing myself along on my bike from Wednesday to Saturday this week.
I'll be home Sunday night. Then I can be sick. Right now, I'm not interested in being ill as I don't want to miss out on this opportunity to deliver on my end of the bargain after so many people have sponsored this endeavour. I'm madly keen to do the ride, and perhaps the signs of illness represent some apprehension at the journey. I don't want to be put off by illness.
So I'm keeping myself rugged up and dosing up on vitamin C to ward off whatever virus or bacteria is lurking in my system.
Yesterday I put a new chain on my bike, the first time I've done anything more than change a tyre, and tested it out. I'm happy to report that it all works smoothly and I can't believe how much difference a new chain makes too; the old one was a bit stretched and this means you don't get all your energy into driving the back wheel. The new chain feels smoother and I don't need to work as hard, even into the wind, to maintain the same speeds.
There are 70 people making the ride this week, so plenty of company along the way. The hurricane tail will pass over Europe tonight and hopefully the weather will be drier and less windy later this week.
Before I head off, just a final word of thanks to all of you who've donated to this cause. Your support is greatly appreciated and I'm very pleased that you've pledged so much for Alzheimer's here in the UK.
I also need to shake off this snotty throat infection that one of my children brought back from a recent holiday. I won't go into detail, just would like to say that I'm not ill and will be pushing myself along on my bike from Wednesday to Saturday this week.
I'll be home Sunday night. Then I can be sick. Right now, I'm not interested in being ill as I don't want to miss out on this opportunity to deliver on my end of the bargain after so many people have sponsored this endeavour. I'm madly keen to do the ride, and perhaps the signs of illness represent some apprehension at the journey. I don't want to be put off by illness.
So I'm keeping myself rugged up and dosing up on vitamin C to ward off whatever virus or bacteria is lurking in my system.
Yesterday I put a new chain on my bike, the first time I've done anything more than change a tyre, and tested it out. I'm happy to report that it all works smoothly and I can't believe how much difference a new chain makes too; the old one was a bit stretched and this means you don't get all your energy into driving the back wheel. The new chain feels smoother and I don't need to work as hard, even into the wind, to maintain the same speeds.
There are 70 people making the ride this week, so plenty of company along the way. The hurricane tail will pass over Europe tonight and hopefully the weather will be drier and less windy later this week.
Before I head off, just a final word of thanks to all of you who've donated to this cause. Your support is greatly appreciated and I'm very pleased that you've pledged so much for Alzheimer's here in the UK.
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