The climbing back over the Roc'h Trevezel was long but not steep, and aided by a slight tailwind I think. We had seen the front of the pack headed back to Paris the evening before. I was by now used to seeing oncoming bikes, but now I was on the home stretch! Scanning the faces of the oncoming riders heading to Brest, I didn't expect to recognize any. So I was surprised to spot Ken! He had started early Monday morning and must have been riding well to be that close behind me, my delays notwithstanding. I yelled his name and we exchanged a wave as we passed. Along the route between Carhaix and Brest, outbound and inbound traffic were often on different roads, so it was a fortunate coincidence to meet at all.
Getting back to Carhaix was uneventful. I made the requisite check-in. I was still looking forward to the beef bourguignon in St. Nicholas, so I just had a snack to tide me over. And by snack, I mean what a regular person would call a meal. If you like eating, randonneuring may be for you.
Over the past few days I had grown accustomed to seeing riders stopped everywhere, pausing to adjust clothing, to eat, to pee. Whatever their occupation, they usually looked alert or at least able. Now these stopped riders started to look different. A lot of them looked done. I was also coming across folks who were still riding but barely. Riding so slowly, or erratically, or in odd positions on the road. Or all of the above. Knowing how much work goes into just getting to the start line, and thinking of how narrowly I had avoided my own disasters, I could feel their pain. It was sad to see.
Nothing was sadder though, than finding no more beef bourguignon at St. Nicholas. Oh well. I ate a whole bunch of pasta bolognese instead, and bread, maybe a rice pudding or something, and a couple beers. I sat across the table from a French gentleman who noticed my Alex Singer cap and asked if I rode one. I said I didn't, but wished I did. He said he had an old one gathering dust in his garage.
It was midnight when I arrived back at Loudeac. On my outbound visit here I was in 'the bulge' and it was controlled chaos. Now that I was riding with the stragglers, things were much more sedate. Another hearty meal was enjoyed, and without further ado I continued. It never seems right to ride away into the darkness from a perfectly good place like that.
The next major checkpoint was Tinteniac, and I intended to take a sleep break there. But first came Quedillac. It was around 3 a.m. The cafeteria here was outdoors, and by the time I finished eating I was shivering and my teeth were chattering. I decided to investigate the dormitory, and was glad I did. The bunks here were little twin mattresses! And the room was warm! I got a couple hours of very good sleep. After a quick breakfast I hit the road again feeling pretty refreshed. The sun was coming up but there was fog, and everything was wet again. I decided it was finally time to brush my teeth, which I did while riding.
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Tinteniac was a quick stop. I ate another quick breakfast, took a pain au chocolat for later, wandered about for awhile, then got back on the bike. It was still early and not overly warm yet, and no accordions this time.
I hit Fougeres about noon. There is a joke (sorta) about riding PBP. Basically it goes like this: The ride is not too hard really. All you have to do is ride to the town on top of that hill, take a quick break, then ride to the town on top of the next hill! Anyway, the landscape is all hills, and there are no towns in the valleys. Fougeres is the perfect example, with it's awesome medieval castle, perched atop a big hill.
Noon on Wednesday also meant that I had about 24 hours left to finish the ride on time. I knew I was flirting with the cutoffs but I was feeling confident. The day had warmed up nicely so I bought a sandwich and a coke and went out to have a picnic lunch. There were a few other folks out on the lawn too, enjoying the sunshine. I nibbled at the sandwich a little, then laid down and closed my eyes for a nap.
I hadn't dozed off yet when an interesting little incident unfolding nearby attracted my attention. I tried to act like I was sleeping, or at least uninterested. But it was like the proverbial car wreck, and I could not look away. After witnessing some pretty distasteful human behavior, I decided a nap wasn't going to happen after all. That was probably for the best, I needed to keep moving.
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| Tanniere, P. Rogue's stand, waves from my Scottish friend |
Awhile later I pulled over at a house in Chantrigné where they were filling water bottles. As a bonus they were also handing out delicious little green plums they had grown. Just before I left, grandpa came out of the house and blessed us with bottled water. Whether he was ordained I'll never know. I did feel blessed though.
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