Three men and two bits of string

Day started a bit miserably with us waking at 6-ish to heavy rain. By the time shorts were on and potions applied, it'd dried up, and we were off. Nice descent out of Chateaugiron before we hit a succession of long grinding hills. Saw otters (or logs) bobbing around in the river Don at 1 when stopping for a lunch of bread, cheese and tomatoes. Back cog of Mike's bike broke in Riale. Bit of panic and visit to a mechanics later, we accepted rope from a local and tied the mighty Penny's bike to Mike's. Comically, but heroically james towed Mike and bike out of town and a mile or so up a big hill, before Jeff produced his washing line and tied it to James's bike. We proceeded on for another 5 miles, before being rescued by the James Penny of Anciennes, Frederic, in his battered old Espace. In some ways this was a shame, as Mike was just about to take his turn at the front...
















Although James and Jeff took photos of Fred's numberplate for the forthcoming murder enquiry, Fred turned out to be a top bloke, who'd heard about our problem back in Riale and hurried along to help us. An hour and a half later, we were all back together in Ancenis, with Mike's freewheel functioning fine, thanks to Fred's insistence (the initial prognosis wasn't good, with gloomy shaking of heads and lot's of shrugging of shoulders from the two young mechanics). Fred probably offered to cook us all dinner before taking us on a pub crawl, but Mike's parlezing is too poor to take advantage. Merci Fred, vous is a bon, bon homme.

Later, at a decent campsite with views over the Loire, we shower and settle down to a fairly typical evening meal. Our daily, on the road, nutritional routine is fairly cheap and basic; with our daily major expense being anything between 5 and 8 euro's for 3 cafe au laits at our first morning stop. The cafe's and bars we encountered were usually very basic affairs, but locals were usually friendly and interested in our trip. We were surprised to see regulars drinking pastis and rose at 9.00am, but speculated they might have been up and in the fields from 5. we were even more surprised to see that the french still have ancient space invaders machines in most cafe's, and that they're still pretty popular. The cartoon below gives a decent account of our eating habits, minus dates, apricots and the odd banana. We'd imagined that we'd make meals from scratch, but often felt more inclined to fill up on pasta and something to plop on top.






















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Day 2: Chateaugiron to Ancenis

Up and off by 8:30 into the rain and grey skies. James and Mike were keen to let you know they were not attacked by wild boar, but the outer tent was ripped open.

14 miles are see us in Tabac in La Coyere for cafe and pain.


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On to Chateaugiron

75 miles, against the wind and now we are sitting enjoying a home cooked meal, cooked by Mr Kelly and a glass of shandy. there is a slight moment of tension when Jeff flourishes his pepper,
mushrooms and solitary onion at the last moment. He had promised to bring menu cards, but
was obviously winging this one, or going off a google search. Mike and Jeff reach an uneasy truce and the pepper and mushrooms (unwashed) go into the sauce.

















Earlier in the day we met a lycra clad cyclist of advanced years - who Mike and James told Jeff was Eddie Mercx - who kept us off the motorway and cycled a few miles in conversation with Jeff (Mike and Jimbob were too polite to say anything). Mike also spotted a dead boar in the gutter - not that we believe him.

James has also been practicing his french when finding the way to the supermarket - which resulted in us cycling the wrong way up a hill.

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Day 1: St Malo to Chateaugiron

We have arrived in sun, wind and blue skies. The stormy crossing of last night rocked us to sleep. Sunblocks and lubricants applied. Quick breakfast and we are off! Heading away from the port at 8.45, its a long, slow-ish climb followed by a rapid descent - keeping company with some heavy traffic - before crossing the river Rance. High coastal winds almost lift the bikes into the air as we pass over the dam. The tidal power station, the first of it's kind (built in 1966) is impressive but not in operation. Apparently, the 24 turbines provide France with 00.012% of her electricity. We reckon James Penny's little legs could do better than that, if he could be harnessed to the grid and maintain his top spinning form for more than 2 minutes.

Jeff directs us off the busy D168 and onto the quiet backroads. Almost immediately heading up a steep gravelly path we pass a snail, whose shell is as big as a table tennis ball. Mikes back plays up on a climb later, so Jeff finds a lake and a 'green way' cycle path for some flatter, more scenic pedalling. Reaching Dinan, which looks very like a small cornish estuary village, we locate a cafe on the east bank and attempt our first communication en France. Jeff, our most experienced French speaker, secures three grande cafe au laits. Mike asks the waitress if she can please 'remplissez' his bidon. "What with?" she answers in English. "Wine? Coffee?" Mike replies with, "No...er, eau?" Those Michel Thomas CD's have come in to their own at last.




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Unloading at the beach

Unloading our equipment at Portsmouth beach. Heading for the ferry, stormy sea, all ships are heading in! On board we settle into our room and head for the bar to make plans for the next day. James struggles to drink one pint, which he's been advised is fine taken with sea sickness pills by a medical chum. The boat takes an age to reach the Isle of Wight, by which time there's a fair bit off bobbing about and a howling gale on deck. James, who is happy in a coracle, is not so suited to the tempests of the Channel/la Manche.

A terrible, apathetic pop duo is followed up by a mime slash magician who must be French but is in fact a scouser. The crowd thins as the kids are told to evacuate the dance floor and one of Jame's compatriots starts to belt out Robbie and Frank Sinatra numbers. He's actually not bad, but the crowd of truckers don't seem to agree. "Does anyone like Tom Jones?" "NOOOOO, we bloody hate him!" Can't be easy plying the vocal arts on the high seas. As James and Mike leave, mike asks them "Do you lot like anybody? What about Neil Diamond?" To which they reply, "Yeah, he's alright him."

Off to Portsmouth!

We are off to the ferry port, medmen packed and ready for the off. Rough water forecast for the channel, hope we are not sea sick! Big thanks to Jane and Callum, Jeffs wife and joint eldest, who give up their day to take us down and see us off safely.
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Mikes unfortunate saddle cut out.

It's meant to look like a fleur
de lis.
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