27 Jul 2011

DAY 1: LONDON TO CALAIS

"Run when you canwalk when you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up." ~ Dean Karnazes


Standing in the dawn breeze in the wildly uninspiring expanse of Crystal Palace Park, I glanced at all the road bikes and groups of people congregating and silently wondered just what the HELL I’d got myself into.
Eventually I saw the familiar, friendly face of Dorota, with whom I’d trained back at the beginning.
 Thank goodness! Whether she liked it or not, I would now cling to Dorota like a lifeline, or perhaps a large mollusc of some sort. (Fortunately she didn't seem to mind). I also met some of the other people from the L2P forums, and it was reassuring to know I wasn't the only one silently screaming.

Bags were packed into the truck - we wouldn't see them again until Calais that night - and bike labels issued. Everyone was given route maps: neatly presented, yes, but daunting all the same. LOOK HOW FAR WE HAVE TO GO! DID ANYBODY ELSE REALISE THIS?

James, the Skyline event leader, gave us all a briefing beneath the bare bones of the Crystal Palace transmission tower - a paltry reminder of the (far more grand) Eiffel Tower we were heading towards over the next four days. We were to follow a trail of neon orange triangular markers that would lead us all the way to Dover. And with this in mind, all 120 cyclists then set off through busy roads, everyone seeming a little unsure of their pace, their position in the great order of things. All crapping themselves, really.
 
At first I channelled my pent-up fear and nervous energy and sped off in pursuit of some of the faster cyclists, but before long I had to slow down. My bike is a hybrid of awesomeness and coolness but it ain't the fastest bike on the block. And I ain't the speediest cyclist. I kept reminding myself this isn't a race, it's a test of ENDURANCE.

Endure? That I could do. I think.

There were little frustrations and niggles - apparently some idiot removed one of the markers, sending a whole group of us downhill in the wrong direction. (By the way, if you're the type of person who takes down someone else's arrow markers for fun, you're a DORK. Just saying.)
Later on I was cycling with a rather inspirational woman named Pat, and before long we realised we had taken another wrong turn downhill for quite some way. We had two options: go aaaaaall the way back up the hill, or use the map to go forward and rejoin the route. Obviously the latter choice won. To be fair it wasn't a nice detour - and involved a lot of map-checking and shuttling alongside some very busy roads, but it DID take us through a little town called Pratt's Bottom. SERIOUSLY. I love England.

The sense of elation Pat and I felt getting back onto the route and seeing our first orange marker again quickly dissipated as we found ourselves becoming disheartened and tired. We had done about 10 extra miles on our little detour and it was taking its toll on what was already a tough morning. There were plenty of hills to tackle (or "undulations" as Skyline frustratingly liked to call them) and we were both short on calories. Plus, my cycle computer suddenly stopped working, meaning not only could I no longer measure how quickly I was going (a useful pace setter) but I was unable to tell how far I had gone. This did NOT help my mood.

And then, after what seemed like forever, we arrived at the water stop. I was presented with the biggest bag of jelly babies I'd ever seen, and invited to knock myself out. I GORGED.
After we'd consumed a horrific amount of sugar and water, Kez and the van crew (aka The Love Bus) took Pat and I - and our bikes - forward to meet the back of the group, making up for some of the miles we'd just spent on our little excursion to Pratt's Bottom. We found out we weren't the only ones who had got lost, which was very reassuring. And as much as I'd feared having to go in the van, I conceded simply because I knew we'd done the miles already. Besides, if we didn't catch up now, we really would have to be escorted to the ferry. NOT HAPPENING! I was riding onto that ferry dammit!

Pat and I, set free back on the right track, quickly took off - but it wasn't long before Pat lost her way again. Once I realised I called the crew but luckily they had found her (with a puncture as well poor lady, but at least she was ok). From then on, I was on my own at the back. The situation soon got to me. I was knackered, and extremely despondent. There were plenty of moments of thinking "WHY AM I SO RUBBISH AT THESE THINGS? WHY MEEEEEE?" Self pity central, I was. Needless to say I was not having much fun.

Not only was this the longest day in terms of miles, but it was the one day where we had a strict deadline. Everyone had to reach the ferry by 5pm at the LATEST. No pressure, or anything, eh. While I told myself this event was not a race, in many ways it was today - it was a race against TIME.

In time I rolled on to the lunch stop just as the last people were leaving. Deflated, I sat outside and shoved carbs down my gullet. Thick buttered white bread, potatoes, salad, pasta, and cheese. I was hungry, but it would be the smallest lunch I'd eat on this trip. My mood stifled the appetite I should've had, and I was also keen to get back on track as quickly as possible.

I had a stern word to myself. "Come on Nelson, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!" If I'd had the energy to grab myself by the shoulders and give myself a slap, I would've. But that's tricky at the best of times. 
I knew this would be a mental game. I just had to push on, and I did. Eventually, wonderfully, after an hour or so (and many undulations) I found a rhythm. In time I even caught up to Dorota and some of the other gals. I was BACK baby!

Of course, at this point of the day we were having to deal with some horribly steep hills (not even your average undulations, these, but actual GREAT STONKING HILLS OF EVIL) that went on, and on, and on. The group of us were walking our bikes up, feeling broken and knackered.
"WHAT IS THE FRICKIN' DEAL WITH THESE HILLS?" we'd all shout as yet another upward turn revealed itself. Yet before long, we were in the outskirts of Dover, and nearing our way to the coast. Just two more miles to go!

And that's when the van turned up.
Kez broke the news: "You're going to miss the ferry if we don't take you now."
Deflated, four of us were bundled into the van like stray dogs caught by the pound. Although remarkably, at that precise moment, the heavens opened and we realised we'd just avoided the only downpour of the day. So we stopped complaining for a moment.

We hadn't gone far when the van caught up with other stragglers, and considering we couldn't all fit in the van, they decided that alright, we could make the last mile after all.
"GO on then. Quickly!"
There were about ten of us together, following behind the van in convoy, revelling in the looks we were getting from passing drivers. We were like a slower, more haggard looking version of the Tour de France. Or at least that's how we felt. One way or another, as we passed under the white cliffs of Dover we were filled with a sense of triumph.

We rolled into the ferry terminal, and joined the masses of brightly coloured cyclists in the grey entrance way. Dorota and I were overcome with delight that we'd actually made it. "I am so happy! I didn't think I would get this far!" said Dorota. I knew exactly how she felt! And what's more, the worst was OVER. I had never been so happy to be in a ferry terminal in my life.

After a long wait everyone rolled into the bowels of the ferry, full of good spirits, where we and our day bags were then forced to walk through security scanners.
"If they're looking for liquids and sharp implements," I remarked to the guy next to me, "they've got the right group." But we all passed through without problems, and parked up our bikes on the parking level. As we entered the ferry lounges there were mixed feelings of elation, relief, and exhaustion. And then came the hunger.

OH THE HUNGER! Dorota and I were actually squealing with excitement about the opportunity to eat. I even did a dance in the queue at the food court. Soon I had myself a huge plate of fish and chips. It was probably one of the most exciting moments of my life.

There was good banter on the ferry, and a lot of sweaty cyclists draped tragically over sofas. Everyone looked worse for wear.

When we arrive in Calais we all donned our neon yellow hi-viz vests (a legal cycling requirement in France in low light) and gathered in the terminal parking lot as the sun began to set in the distance. We would all follow the vehicles in convoy, and eventually branch off toward two separate hotels. And so, with bicycle lights blinking in unison, we rolled along the busy roads, all 120 of us, moving like one machine. We passed through the outskirts of Calais, where a funfair was in full swing, and the sounds of the Black Eyed Peas' "I Gotta Feeling" blared on the sound system. Diners in the restaurants stared as we passed by. A man rolling out his rubbish bins on the street stopped and cheered us on.

The faster riders begrudged the convoy, while others (like me) absolutely loved it. The feeling of riding with so many others - even if it was at a snail's pace of 8 miles an hour - was absolutely brilliant. It felt like a suitably triumphant procession to end the day we'd just had.

Those of us heading to the Ibis pulled up at the hotel, tired but cheering. (Who cheers at the sight of an Ibis?? We do, apparently.) Shower and sleep were the only two things on my mind. I was sharing with a girl from South America, but admittedly I had little energy for chat. Or stretching. Or much else, really. Instead, I slept. Safe in the knowledge the worst day was behind me... I had MADE IT.


London to Dover: 
91 miles (146km)
Calais to hotel: 9 miles (14.4km)
Total distance:  100 miles (160.9km)



2 comments:

  1. Yay! Go Claire! I'm so proud of you for doing this. And I LOVE your writing. Keep having more adventures and soon I will be printing and binding your work into a book. Three cheers for Claire!

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  2. Such an inspiring blog! It sounds like an amazing experience, but by golly you are braver than me for doing it! A lot of challenges, but you beat every one. I look forward to reading more. :)

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