PBP 2023 - Third Time's a Charm!

I’ve said it many times before to anyone that will listen and I will say it again here- - no matter what you’ve heard or think you remember about PBP, the reality is much better. This definitely held true for me again in 2023.

 

If you want the short version, I had a great ride. The beauty of western France was on full display with hot days and warm overnights. I did put leg warmers on during each of the overnights but nothing like the frigid nights of 2019. For me, the highlight of this ride was the support of the residents along the route. There were countless unofficial food stops of every size and shape. I think I found a good balance of enjoying the ride’s special moments and keeping forward motion. I never really felt that finishing was in doubt. In the final miles of the ride, I made the decision to ease back and finish with a time of 89hours and 4 minutes, qualifying for the Adrian Hands Society. Now, if you want the overdone, long version, keep reading.

 

This was my first time travelling with my new coupled bike. I was a little apprehensive about my skills getting it properly reassembled, especially the reconnection of the hydraulic brake lines. In the end, the brake lines connected pretty smoothly (with an extra set of hands from buddy, Spencer Klaassen). I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I squeezed the brake levers and had working brakes. The only drama in the reassembly process came when I removed the travel skewer from the rear wheel and lifted the wheel to put it on. At that point, the cassette slid off of the hub and hit the pavement with an assortment of rings and springs. Not really sure the order that all of this went back together, I sent a text off to my bike builder, Paul Reardon, in La Crosse. He promptly initiated a video call and patiently walked me through the reassembly. Disaster averted!

 

I started the ride with no clear plan. I was in the first start wave of the 90 hour group. I had a hotel room reserved in Loudeac (mile 270 ), and Saint- Meen- le-Grand (mile 518  ). The hotel plan wasn’t perfect because I anticipated getting to Loudeac late on Monday afternoon, a bit too early for a sleep, and the second leg to Saint Meen was a lengthy 240-ish miles. While some riders prepare detailed spreadsheets outlining when they will be at various points on the route and average speed predictions, I prefer to simply work from a list of controls with their closing times. I then track my progress through the day by comparing my time to the closing time to see how much time I will have to sleep at the end of each leg.

The start in Rambouillet was the usual mass of energy, nerves, and pageantry. Somewhere on a stage in front of the pack, a ringmaster was leading cheers, welcoming riders from around the world, doing some kind of countdown, all with some kind of dance club background music. Early on, I met up with longtime Minnesota Randonneur friend, Craig Aamodt. We ended up riding about 100km together on what was a beautiful evening. This might have been the most perfect evening ride I have ever experienced. The miles flew by effortlessly, the conversation was good, and we were both engrossed in enjoying the evening. 

Craig and I got separated in Mortagne. I had just planned on grabbing a quick sandwich and rolling, but when I walked past the cafeteria, I saw that no one was in line, so I grabbed a full turkey and mashed potato dinner.

The miles continued to roll along easily and I was quickly to Villaines-la-Juhel, roughly 200k into the ride. The control in Villaines has the neat tradition of having elementary kids meet riders at the front of the cafeteria line. The kids then carry your tray through the line and to the eating area in the building next door. For my third straight PBP, I was helped by a friendly young lad. 

Shortly after leaving Villaines, the sun starting sneaking through the foggy morning for a beautiful sunrise. 

The miles to Tinteniac continued to roll by easily. Arriving in Tinteniac, I opted for the rapide food option and grabbed a galette sarcisse and a coke.

 

 

On leaving Tinteniac, I noticed something wasn’t right with my GPS. It had somehow managed to shift to indoor riding mode and the road mode was no longer an option. I stopped quick and tried to recreate some of my preferences but never did get it quite right during the ride. I’m now confident that the malfunction was caused by charging the GPS directly from my dynamo rather than through a battery. Apparently, I am the only randonneur who missed this memo.  

 

As I predicted, I arrived in Loudeac late Monday afternoon. I had a nice dinner at the control. I thought it would be nice to end the day with a bottle of beer as well. However, a room temperature (read HOT) Carlsburg was not a fix for anything. (I’m trying to imagine a situation that a 90 degree malty Carlsburg would help but I’m drawing a blank). I tried choking it down but didn’t get very far before giving up, grabbing my drop bag, and heading to the hotel. I was able to buy a really nice draft beer at the hotel bar to drink while unwinding from the day. I planned to sleep for about 3 ½ hours but was really restless and  got only about half of that. 

When the alarm went off, it was still light out. I grabbed a quick second dinner at a Loudeac restaurant that I have eaten at on both prior PBPs before riding into a beautiful sunset and evening.

 

The leg between Loudeac and Carhaix featured a couple of fun interactions with local kids. One of the truly fun and unique things about PBP that are that numbers of people and kids standing along the side of the roads. Many of the children are lined up along the edges of the road looking for high fives from riders. I like to stop and hand out pins I had made up. At one such stop, I encountered 3 young kids. 2 of them spoke pretty good English. The youngest one did not know any English at all. After giving them each a pin, I motioned that I wanted to take a picture with them. On seeing this, the youngest one, who had been very quiet to this point, got a big smile and started yelling “selfie, selfie, selfie.”  Apparently, some concepts transcend language. The other notable experience happened a couple hours later. It was getting late and my mind was getting a bit muddled, so instead of greeting this elementary-aged kid with “Bonjour,”  I said “Hola”. As I reached out to hand her a pin, a much younger girl who had been watching came running over yelling “Hola, hola, hola” to get her pin. I rolled away from both of these interactions laughing.

 

The long, dark climb out Carhaix to the highest point on the course seemed to go on forever-as did the cold, foggy decent to Sizun. In both of my prior PBPs, I’ve hit Sizun just after sunrise and hit the local bakery from an apple pastry. The bakery wasn’t open yet this year, but the bar next door was still open and had a plate of the apple pastries. Two quick pastries and off towards Brest.

 

Arriving in Brest, we passed a patisserie where I had eaten lunch in 2019. The patisserie was just opening for the day so I decided to stop and eat before reaching the control. The lady working didn’t speak any English but we were able to have a bumbled conversation of points and smiles and I eventually ended up with a decent chicken and egg sandwich and a pastry. On my way out, she noticed that I had forgotten to fill my water bottle so she stopped me and gave me a free bottle from the display case.

 

At the control in Brest, I met up with Craig Aamodt and Andy Williams. We decided to leave together. After the required photo stop on the bridge leaving Brest, we ventured into the revised portion of the route. This year’s route reportedly included lots more climbing than the 2019 version. Lots of it seemed to be on this section. It seemed like an unending string of climbs and the temperatures rose steadily all day. Craig clearly was not feeling well and eventually withdrew with heat-related illness but Andy and I rode together for the rest of the day. We were also joined periodically by Misha Heller and Charlie Martin for some fun conversation. The highlight of the day was the new stop at Pleyben, next to a beautiful ancient church. To mix things up, I decided that I Heineken would be better for my stomach than another sugary pop. I added a galette saucisse to top off a nice lunch.

 

Andy and I got separated on the run into Saint-Meen-le-Grand. Andy was convinced I was behind him and it took a series of phone calls and text messages before we were able to meet up near the square in front of Saint Meen’s distinctive city hall. The hotel was on route and was set up for PBP support. I had pre-ordered a couple of dinners and we were able to eat quick supper before crashing for a 3 hour sleep.

 

We left around 4:30 am, well before the sun came up and rode the 25-30 miles to Tintaniac for breakfast. After grabbing my meal, I noticed the party train sitting at a table. They graciously let me join them and I enjoyed being part of their banter. Stops with them became a feature of the rest of the ride. I wasn’t quite fast enough to ride with them, but I took slightly shorter breaks and was able to join them at several controls and aid stations throughout the day.

 

I never really felt strong at any point on Wednesday. I made reasonable progress and kept moving but most of the day felt like a struggle. I had a good lunch with Bill Russell, Misha Heller, and Charlie Martin in Fougeres and a fun stop in Ambrieres-les-Vallees. At Ambrieres-les-Vallees, the route crosses a river on a bridge with 90 degree corners on each bank. On the Paris side of the river, is a café. The spot is so beautiful that I have stopped there on each PBP (some years in both directions)

 This year, they had a tent serving food outside and an ice cream stand. I stopped for a sandwich and soup but I found the soup inedible. As I was preparing to leave, I walked out to the bridge planning to take a photo of the next rider that crossed. I ended up taking a picture of Cap’n Ende and Charley Martin, without planning it (or actually realizing it until I looked up after taking the photo). 

Their group was diving into the ice cream so I made the wise decision to delay my departure and have a big bowl of caramel flavored ice cream. The rest of the afternoon was an eastward slog through a progression of spontaneous aid stops, including a stop at Paul Rogue’s in Tanniere for crepes.  Shortly after Tanniere, the town of LeRibay is perched on top of a short steep climb and they were hosting a major festival/party/aid stop. As I approached, I was feeling sun-baked, so I pulled in for a quick break. Not too much later, the party train rolled in. I noticed that all of the voluteers were wearing bright orange t-shirts with a Le Ribay. I thought that one of the shirts would make a unique PBP souvenir and could be the basis for a joke to help boost my sagging mood. So, I found a table selling the shirts, bought one, and slung it over my shoulder. I then walked over to where the party train was sitting, and announced, “screw this, I’m done. I’m going to stay here and cook sausages all day”. It was a fairly lame joke, but at this point of the ride it was enough to get me to laugh at myself and change my mood. I later learned that at lease one member of the gang thought I was DNF’ing there. So maybe I looked at bad as I felt.

 

 

That evening approaching Mortagne was probably the most difficult part of the ride for me. There was a series of long, tough climbs, and I was struggling to make good progress. About 10km before the Mortagne control, I decided to pull off at a roadside community support stand. When I wheeled in, I was met by a teenage girl whose first question was “English, French, Spanish?” When I replied English, she turned and yelled for the English-speaking helper who then approached and stuck with me throughout my stay. Apparently, they had a “rider liaison” available in each of several languages. He asked me a series of questions to prompt aid. Did I need water?, would I like cake?, do I need coffee?, would you like a plum? After we got through those basics, he asked me to sign a big board they had signed by riders from all over the world. When I confessed that I was down to my last pin and that I wanted him to decide who in his crew should get it, he pulled out a board of pins and said they preferred to put the pins on a board to display.

 

My plan had to been to sleep for about 30 minutes in Mortagne before pressing on to Dreux. However, the weather forecast was calling for rain in 4 or 5 hours, so after eating, I decided to press on to Dreux. Leaving Mortagne, the route has 2 or 3 climbs that seemed to go on forever. Someday, I would like to ride this section in daylight. On each of my 3 PBPs, I have suspected that the organizers have snuck in an excursion into the Alps without telling anyone. The reward for surviving these climbs is the plains  leading to Dreux.  The stark darkness of the night was interrupted by an all night party at the tabac La Bonne Franquette in Neuilly-sur-Eure.  I decided this would be a great spot for a break. I spent a few minutes milling around before I decided that what I really needed most was a nap. They had a grass beer garden/picnic type area set up across the street so I settled in for a quick 30 minute nap. Only problem, I am one of randonneuring’s worst ditch-nappers. I got all settled in, closed my eyes and laid there for 25 minutes. I might have fallen asleep for 10 minutes or so, but I doubt it. So, before any of my 3 alarms went off, I was up and moving towards my bike.

 

At this point, I was still undecided about whether I would directly ride the 45ish miles to the finish (which would get me in somewhere around 85 or 86 hours) or pull back and target a finish in excess of 88 hours and 55 minutes to join the Adrian Hands Society. Within a few miles, I entered the small town of Senonches, which had a very welcoming community aid station set up. 

Instantly, I made the Adrian Hands Society decision, pulled in for my second break in 10 miles, and grabbed a cup of coffee. I sat down in a comfy chair and was met by a friendly face, It was, Tor Urdalen a Norwegian rider I had spoken with somewhere several hours ago. He greeted me with something along the lines of, “Hey, Minnesota. How’s the ride going?”  We sat and chatted for about 30 minutes. The conversation, combined with the decision to ease off the hurry to the finish, really put me in a relaxed mood. The rest of the ride to Dreux was a fun, relaxed cruise across a pancake flat plain.   

 

 

 

In prior PBPs, I have always had good luck with controls. However, on arrival in Druex, I quickly figured out I was right in the middle of the bubble. The control was overrun, people were sleeping everywhere, and the food lines were out of everything. To make matters worse, the building was unbearably hot so I decided to go take a 30 minute nap in the grass out behind the building.

 

Leaving Dreux with plenty of time in the bank and only about 25 miles to go was really relaxing. I chatted with a randonneur from Istanbul and had a nice conversation with Danish randonneur, Christian Rasmussen, who I had met at several other 1200k events. I was pleasantly surprised to come around a corner in the small town of Faverolles and find the whole Adrian Hands/party train gang sitting on a curb watching the world go by.  I instantly thought that this photo needs to be on the front of American Randonneur magazine. Just as I was lining up to take the photo, someone tapped me on the shoulder, reached for my phone, and told me to sit on the curb with them. After taking the picture, the guy came over to talk to us—turns out it was the mayor of Faverolles. 

I joined the train for the final 12 miles to Rambouillet. As we approached the finish, it was clear that we needed to kill another 45 minutes or so before we wanted to finish. So, after a discussion with a very confused course marshal, we rolled past the final turn and into Rambouillet. 45 minutes of lively banter and a large beer later, we rolled back to where we bypassed the finish, made the turn, and coasted into the finish line chaos.

For me, 89 hours and 4 minutes after rolling out on Sunday night. My other PBP finishes have been in the overnight hours when the finish area was largely deserted. Finishing late Thursday morning was much more like a party.

 

This PBP was my third and my 12^th 1200km. Every PBP is special and this one was no exception. If there is a better amateur cycling event in the world, I haven’t seen it yet! I feel very fortunate to have been able to participate in this ride and look forward to coming back every 4 years for as long as I’m able.