Thursday, August 20, 2020

It's All Downhill From Here

I rolled out of Loudeac sometime after 10pm. Originally I had wanted to get to Carhaix before sleeping. Now the goal was to get there in the early morning and take another short sleep break. I also knew that my friend Lane had a hotel room reserved there. Lane and I run the exact same tires, so it was my hope that I could find him and bum a tube.

Riding on this second night was a quite different than the first. It was much lonelier. There were times, albeit short, when I couldn't see another rider on the road. The ever present hills were now bigger as well. Without company, I was having trouble fighting off drowsiness. So I was much relieved to reach St. Nicholas-du-Pellem.

St. Nick turned out to be the secret checkpoint. A lot of riders were just getting their cards stamped and heading back out, but I was hungry again, and cold. I'm glad I stopped, because I had a bowl of Boeuf Bourguignon there that was so good! I immediately started looking forward to eating there again on the way back.

After the midnight snack, I was still feeling the sleep deprivation and the cold. I asked one of the volunteers for the dormitory. It was a weak moment. He pointed at a large open sided party tent, where a couple riders were getting situated under space blankets. I don't think I'd ever seen anything look so inhospitable. Thus motivated, I continued on to Carhaix.

This was a tough stretch, staying awake was difficult at times. But often there was some hill to climb or descend, and occasionally other riders around. I stopped at a lonely house along the road where a family were serving hot coffee and treats, and tending a fantastically welcoming fire. They had a few mattresses laid out in a shed, which were occupied. I handed the kids each a patch, which they thought was pretty cool. Then I continued, feeling a bit revived.

By the time I got to Carhaix, I was pretty cold again. I suppose I ate but the only thing I remember is how damned far away the dormitory was from the bike parking and the cafeteria. It was getting quite cold at night, I've heard down into the 40's. With the high humidity, there was heavy fog every morning which made everything wet, and added to the chill. I remember just wanting to go to sleep, but having to walk what seemed like a mile across a dark icy swamp to get there.

It was a nice surprise to find in one corner of the dorm check-in, a big medusa's head wad of every USB cord known to man. I had brought the wrong cord for my phone along, and it was now long dead. I wouldn't be able to get a hold of Lane without a phone, so that problem was seemingly solved.

I asked for two hours of sleep, but the disposable paper sheet I was issued had about as much insulating power as you would expect. I was able to sleep some, but when I woke I was cold again and shivering. It was almost time to get going anyway, and I figured the only way I was going to get warm was to get moving. I stumbled out to the bathroom, then retrieved my phone, which had been unplugged sometime earlier. Great.

Anxiously I pressed the power button, and was relieved to find it had gotten most of a charge. I found out later that I was probably supposed to get permission to use the cords. In fairness, that makes sense.

It was early morning and just getting light. I made the trek through heavy fog over to the cafeteria and had a quick breakfast before hitting the road again. I had burned up a lot of time with the flats and the stomach issues. And I hadn't been very quick through the controls either. I calculated that I would be able to make the time cutoff at Brest, but only if I hustled. I would not have time to track down Lane either.

The sun was just peeking above the hills, and it was still raw, cold and damp. I think it was around this point, having experienced a couple such mornings, that I decided that these hours just before sunrise would be the best spent in a warm bed. Once the sun came up, it was easy enough to stay warm working on the bike.

The fog did make for a dramatic setting though. This morning in the forests around Carhaix and Huelgoat were especially beautiful. The largest climb of the entire ride, the Roc'h Trevezel, was just ahead but I was riding strong, better than my expectations really. So it was great fun, riding that misty two lane road at sunrise, in and out of the sun, at full tilt.

It was a tough climb to the top of Roc'h Trevezel, but presented no real problem. Then it's downhill all the way to Brest. I tried not to think about going over it again on the return trip.


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<=Brest=(Elorn R.)=Paris=>

A popular souvenir with PBP riders is a selfie on the Albert Louppe bridge, just outside of Brest. A lot of riders recall how emotional they were on reaching this prominent symbol of the halfway point. I was having such a good time, honestly, that I remember remember feeling pretty low-key, and even sad to think it was half over. I stopped to take a picture of my bike, but almost didn't.


The route through the town itself was labyrinthine and featured some near vertical streets that seemed just diabolical at the time. I got my card stamped well within time. I waited in line for food with a gentleman with nothing positive to say. I ate by myself.

I took a shower and changed my shirt and socks and drawers. Reaching the control inside the time limit was a relief, but nothing to celebrate. I had to get back to Paris.

2 comments:

  1. I carried three tubes with me and had a couple more at the hotel. I wish we could have communicated. It must have been nerve wracking to not have any spares. It sounds like I was just ahead of you since I climbed the Roc in the dark.

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  2. I think we were pretty close the whole ride back. Didn't we figure we were both in Quedillac sleeping at the same time?
    Yes having no spare tubes was distressing when I thought about it...so I tried not to. Pretty stupid of me to run such tight margins. And to have such poor means of communication. It all worked out though.

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