Arrivéesummer/autumn2019
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A total of 6,673 riders drew up at the starting line for the infamously gruelling Paris-Brest-Paris randonnee in August this year – the 19th version of the event. A kaleidescope of lyrca streamed through the farmland, forests and towns of northern France – 178 of them – in a rainbow phalanx of differing ages and abilities, delivering yet again a magnificent and passionate advertisement for long-distance cycling. This year’s event saw a few changes to the route to improve safety, and the ironing out of one or two killer inclines on the final stretch. More than 2,500 volunteers were involved in making sure that this year’s event was as spectacular as ever. In this edition we capture the impressions of a number of British competitors, some of whom were tackling the celebrated Gallic trial of strength and endurance for the first time.
C’est ma
I MUST TELL YOU my most touching personal experience. It was in a village after Fougeres on the return leg. Deep, dark night, and I was solo…again. In a little village square a tabac stood open. There was nobody else in sight. I was having a bad time, so stopped. I ordered two espressos and a Red Bull. And made my weary way to the toilets. Returning to the bar, I discovered there was no Red Bull, so I downed the espressos in one. I really didn’t want to go back out. I struggled into damp gloves and reapplied chamois cream. This was a terrible low point for me. Then the little old French lady behind the bar came outside to where I was looking forlornly at my bike, thinking: “Oh God! There’s still such a long way to go…” She came really close to me, reached up and took my head gently, kissed both my cheeks, and, from inches away, stared into my eyes. She spoke softly, in English with a strong French accent: “You have much courage inside.” Then she nodded her head, and walked back inside. I was blown away. I climbed back on the machine, and rode out into the misty dark.
ALICE THOMSON
More than 500 British-based cyclists joined an international throng of thousands of riders in this summer’s 1,200km Paris-Brest-Paris event. The first tales of grim determination, tears, comradeship and triumph over the unrelenting course are filtering through. Here’s a taste of this year’s experiences from a few of those who took part…
IAN MCBRIDE
MAIN PICTURES IVO MIESEN
ONE OF MY FAVOURITE MOMENTS of the ride was on the return to Paris, coming in to the control point at Villaines-la-Juhel. It was at this point I understood why people return every four years for this event. Riding into the control makes you feel like a Tour-deFrance hero, with locals lining the street cheering, music playing and banners everywhere. No amount of sleep deprivation can stop you smiling when local children rush out offering high-fives. As a female rider, you get that little extra enthusiasm. One parent even pulled me over for a picture with her daughters. The downside to this was that with around 200kms still to ride, I felt I’d finished. My brevet card said otherwise, and I had a final night of pedalling with my fellow randonneurs, rolling into Rambouillet at 9.15am on Thursday morning and in desperate need of a shower and a sleep. So I completed my first Paris-Brest-Paris. I’m still recovering, and figuring out what to make of the experience – the things I loved, and the things that really tested me. I was delighted to complete the ride in 84 and a half hours. It was a tale of two halves, a struggle to Brest but a much more enjoyable return.
