Cycling to Waterloo for the 7.30 train I stop off at the Extinction Rebellion camp before meeting the boys (Simon, Pete, Chris) all present and correct at the station and we board the train to Portsmouth with less stress than last year’s chaos. Easy trip and once on the boat we have a couple of beers before turning in to our pleasantly surprising pleasant cabin. Woken at about 5.30 French time to be told that we are delayed by an hour and we can all go back to sleep. Nice.
Friday is our first real day and we head for what looks like a pleasant ride through a nature reserve before going over a local bridge over the estuary and then head north west to Hornfleur. Turns out to be a massive oil refinery industrial estate with a some scrub land before hitting an extremely busy and steep Pont de Normandie. Glad to get on the back road to Hornfleur where we stop for breakfast in the pleasant seaside port town. We cycle along the coast road stopping for a swim at the meridian line (we passed it somewhere - apparently goes through Peacehaven too which we cycled through on our last trip) and refreshed we press on as the day hots up. It starts to get hilly as we head inland toward Caen and we stop off at the famous Pegasus Bridge which was taken by British paratroops and gliders at the very start of D Day. We just get the train at Caen where Simon persuades the ticket inspector to waive the penalty fare cos we don’t have tickets. French trains are well set up for bikes and relaxing. Speeding through the countryside part of me wishes that we were doing this on bikes but I guess we are living in a democracy. Seemingly. After shopping and lugging all that stuff up the steep viaduct route out of Coutances my legs are telling me that the train was a good idea. Simon has a new back road route avoiding the long fast switchback and just as my legs are instructing my mouth to ask him why we don’t go the direct route we see a sign for Contrieres 1km. Shut up legs! After that staple cyclists meal of pasta we sup beers and wine in the evening sun. Watch le Tour and then go for a local walk to bother the horses. Back home we start a whiskey tasting session starting with some I bought from the Welsh Penderyn distillery which we visited on a previous trip and I brought some in a plastic shower gel bottle and ending far too late on Simon’s Bells and possibly Irish single malt but maybe it’s Bells in the bottle too. Or something like that. All got a bit confused. 62 miles.
Saturday we’re up bright and early, well, Simon is and moaning that we’re missing the best part of the day. By that he means the bit which is pissing down with rain so luckily we have a later start than agreed, according to Simon, during the whiskey drinking session last night. Soon enough the sun comes out and will stay out for the remainder of the trip. We visit a local market town for fresh provisions and then a big car boot in the countryside. I don’t buy anything but the cider went down a treat and very reasonably priced. We eschew a river dip for the live le Tour coverage where the French are dominating and did G lose it today? To the café for home brewed beer and then back for my legendary risotto. Next it’s the local festival where there is a band playing called Long’ Avenue. We’re not expecting much and when we arrive they are playing to the usual array of slightly tipsy parents with hyper kids who are jigging about, nearly, to some awful Abba track I forget which. They are two oldish guys on guitar and bass, two younger guys with trendy haircuts on keys and drums and two women, one middle aged blond one younger who rather insultingly is referred to at the end as their Tina Turner so you can guess she’s not white Gallic. Anyways a lot of music flows over the crowd before that slightly prejudiced reference is made. So we’re all set for a crappy covers band but as I sip my cider I do remark that they seem to have a slightly techno take on the Abba classic. The set is an odd mix of rock and pop songs sung in English, some recognisable that they sing in French and some we don’t recognise that sound like French chanteuse songs (not that I’m an expert) which may be their originals. They are damn fine musicians the bassist particularly impressing me. The drummer can sing well and treats us to a bit of French rap. They do get our feet moving and the rest of the crowd is getting warmed up what with the beer and cider flowing fairly freely. The Spice Girl’s Wannabe goes down extremely well especially with the ladies. Even I enjoyed their take on it. Towards the end they get serious ripping through a Run DMC cover (again, forget which) and then a great version of Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall. We pause to watch the surprisingly impressive fireworks display which goes on for ages and much have used up all of Simon’s local taxes and then some (he was out trying to calm the horses) and after the last big bang the band are back on. We’re treated to a rocking ending with AC/DC’s Back in Black (I think, they all sound the same) and then that punk classic Anti Social with the whole band and audience chanting along to the chorus of I’m An-Ti So-Cial I’m An-Ti So-Cial. Fantastic. And more than a little weird. I can’t remember for the life of me who sings that all I know is some old punk band and I have it in my collection. Back in the UK Olly says it’s Skrewdriver and he’s right. My secret pleasure as some of that band went on to be far right thugs but their first album wasn’t at all and still a classic. Odd how this band decide to cover that song given their diverse line-up. After the excitement of the band we are treated to an 80s electronic pop disco complete with smoke machine which has us four dancing and four French (I assume) youngish boys and girls. The elderly woman who has sat in a camping chair at the front of the crowd not moving for the entire set, and the fireworks, has left which is a relief as I wondered if she was still alive. Obviously likes punk rock but not 80s disco. We exit sharply once Come on Eileen comes on, ironically. Back home we continue drinking and chatting and go to bed far too late. 36 miles.
Sunny lazy Sunday. Cycling down to the beach for a swim and coffee, tootle back through the quiet lanes and lunch at the home brew bar restaurant. Back to watch le Tour for a chilled out afternoon. Nice walk in the evening before an early night. 19 miles.
Monday we’re up early to tidy up and off by 9.30 and it’s lovely and sunny but damn hot. We start of by hitting all the hills we can find between home and east of Coutances before hitting the shady cycle track and quiet roads to the coast. Here we stop for a swim and a very nice old lady asks if we want fresh cold water despite me wearing a heart rate monitor bra and Simon wearing bib shorts. Maybe she likes the kinky look. We then meander inland again finding all the steep hills we can before screaming down towards Cherbourg port. A quick beer served by the same Irish woman as a year ago and we’re onto the ferry. My feet ache as do Simon's. Feet complaining in sympathy? We have known each other too long! The journey is quick and on time speeding by with us teaching a French girl living in England the art of sarcasm. Short wait at the train station giving Simon enough time to buy beers and soon we’re speeding home heatedly discussing receipts and unreceipted expense claims. Waterloo we part from Pete, drop Chris off in Brixton and Simon and I part just south. Arrive home knackered but plied with wine and chat to Debbie, Olly and Hazel. Sleep well. 84 miles.
Epilogue. Tuesday I cycle to work and back in the blazing sun as it’s warming up nicely, or not. Legs feel fine. Weariness due to intense heat. Wednesday I’m up in Birmingham for a conference at Edgbaston Cricket Ground. Beforehand I sit by the pond in Cannon Hill Park thinking back to when I used to sit here trying to make conversation with my troubled French school friend. A lifetime has passed since then. Part of the deal is that we watch Birmingham Bears thrash Derbyshire Someotherstupidname in the evening 20/20 match. Blast is appropriate for this evening. Unlike today's test match.
Photos. First the important ones...
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| Friday |
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| Monday |
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| View over the nature reserve to the Pont de Normandie |
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| Made it over |
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| Breakfast in Hornfleur |
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| Hornfleur |
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| Hornfleur waters |
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| Our only puncture - or major mechanical |
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| Villers-sur-Mer where we went sur mer and didn't see the meridian line |
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| Above Coutances |
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| Typical cyclist's view - Pete's bumbag |
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| Gavray |
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| Home brew cafe with very little imagination in cooking vegetables (his red beer tasted like my home brew too) |
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| Contrieres sunset |
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| The surprisingly good Long' Avenue |
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| From another angle with drummer |
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| Rocking out! |
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| Old woman completely unmoved (literally) by the band |
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| A grand name for a country lane |
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| That view again! The trip north. |
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| La Greve where we swam |
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Race Face
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