Ian Thomson's Sponsored Cycle through France

Monday the 9th of April

started bright and early. By 450am, Paul Mahato and myself had left the relative comforts of the homely Payne home for the rigours of the morning cold. No buses at this time of the morning...we jogged to Central Station and boarded the National Express bus that would take us, via London and Dover, to Paris. With time to kill, I picked up Tony Anthony's autobiograohy, 'Taming the Tiger'...by the time we reached London I'd almost finished. A really good read in so mnay ways. The ferry from Dover was delightful...26 degree sun, Scwarzwalderkirschetorte and Lipton tea saw us across to France

By this time we were beginning to realise that we could no longer get by speaking English. C'etait un sentiment craintif! But we dusted off our school-book French and soldiered on. Arriving in Paris at 8pm, we had a quick tour of the sights before picking up a hot dog at Quick's burger bar (not quite as cultural as l'escargot, but it filled a hole) and finding our way to our hotel.

Tuesday the 10th

began with a hurried buffet breakfast and a scurried commute to the Bercy train station. We had arrived in France on Easter Monday, which had laid low our plans to change money, so we had to find a Bureau de Change, meet up with Zoe Anderson, buy tickets and get Zoe's bike on the train by 830am. We succeeded, and set off for Auxerre, catching up on the past year and reminiscing old bike treks as we went. We were to meet our final co-cyclist, Jonathan Croft, in Auxerre at lunchtime, so we sent him an expensive text, via Orange UK's telephone masts, to let him know our plans.

On arriving in Auxerre, we hunted down La Maison des Randonneurs where we had been informed we could hire bikes. Unfortunately, the centre was just recovering from the long Easter break and no-one was around to rent us bikes. A friendly but rather bewildered lady with poor English tried to communicate to us that someone would arrive at 6pm to serve us. This would seriously affect our plans and our itinerary, as we had hoped to be on the road by 1pm. In poor French, we thanked her and agreed to rendezvous at 6pm.

It was impossible to be dejected on such a beautiful day, so we made the most of our time in Auxerre. We visited one of the two cathedrals, which was impressive from the outside, but decaying within. We bought genuine Burgundy cheese from a genuine Burgundy cheese-shop. We walked around town carrying the yard-long bread stick we had bought with it, and tried to look as French as possible. Jonathan arrived and we filled him in on our dilemma. He had an immediate solution - buy a football and while the remaining hours away in the park next to La Maison des Randonneurs. He also spoke very good French and had a French (therefore cheap) mobile phone with him.

Having bought the football and tired ourselves out, we rang our youth hostel in Vezelay (40mi down the road) to make final bookings. A rather grumpy hostelier informed us that there was no way he would stay awake past 7pm to wait for us. And there was no way we could cycle 40miles in an hour. A second dilemma was born. Zoe was for staying in Auxerre the night and starting the next day, which would leave us a massive 140km per day to cycle. I thought we should cycle on to Avallon or Vezelay and try for a hotel. Croft suggested the idea of buying blankets and sleeping rough in the warm weather. Paul took no interest in the debate whatever.

 We managed to get our bikes earlier then expected at 5pm, and set out for Avallon. The first 5 miles were along the gorgeous Yonne river, but in the interests of time we soon joined Route Nationale 6, the main road, and in 3 fairly impressive stints of riding, reached Avallon before the sun went down at 830pm. We staggered into the nearest hotel we could find, which offered rooms for 4 at the very reasonable rate of 76 euros a night. The gourmet dinner at a local restaurant was almost wasted on us, we were so tired, but we did watch Chelsea see Valencia out of the European Championships before crawling into bed and passing out.

Wednesday the 11th

The others would soon grow to hate my enthusiasm for the road, but I was up at 7am and raring to go. Croft and I went in search of a supermarket and stocked up on provisions. Paul and Zoe were still asleep on our return.

 By ten o'clock we'd all dragged ourselves back onto our bikes and had begun the long, slow climb to Chateau Chinon. The roads were truly picturesque, with vistas dropping away after every rise. The cycling was hard, though, and by the time we reached the district of Nevers, we were tired and had made little progress. We stopped for a drinks break and contemplated having a short day, and stopping at the top of the hill, only 50 km away. We had hoped to cycle as far as Luzy, but again our hopes of a hostel were dashed by a phone call - the hostel's answer-phone informed us politley that they were closed until early in May.

We contemplated this over lunch, which we et in a farmers field next to the Lac du Crescent [right]. Having come to no conclusions, we set off again to see how we did. By the time we reached Chateau Chinon at 4pm, we all wanted a long break. We found a LIDL supermarket and bought copius amounts of icecream and cheap iced tea. After that we explored the town a little and finished in one of the relaxed French cafes that seemed to sprout up wherever we went.

 As on the previous day, my stubbornness prevailed, and we decided to try the 20 mi mountain road to Luzy, reasoning that we were at the top of the hill and it couldn't get much worse. Zoe, carrying the heaviest bag and suffering the most, was nominated to set the pace with Paul. Croft and I brought up the rear. The road out of Chateau Chinon started uphill. 10 km later it was still going uphill and we'd seen no downhill at all! Our legs and minds had found a rhythm that kept us going, but the doubts were beginning to set in when we hit the top.

But what a top! The whole of central France stretched away before us, little hills descending into the flat plains around the Loire and Rhone rivers. But we were happier just tol see the road stretching away downhill, with no sign of up :) We cycled the remaining 12miles into Luzy in just over 30 minutes. In Luzy there was one tiny hotel open, which also served food. This picture of Paul {left} sums up how we looked. But we also knew now that we had completed the hard part. One more day of flat cycling and we'd be in Roanne, boarding a train for Lyon.

Thursday the 12th

The third day's cycling was thankfully flat and fairly easy-going. By lunchtime we had covered nearly 60 km, through the valley of the Somme to Bourbon-Lancy and then on to Digoin. The Loire river valley stretched away before us and another hard afternoon's cycling saw us reach the train station in Roanne by 5pm, 48 hours after we'd left Auxerre so fresh and excited. No longer so - Zoe had enough strength to take a picture of the rest of us, but that was about it. We piled our four bikes onto the train and the other three went straight to sleep.

 We arrived in Lyon at 8pm. We went immediately to Croft's flat and planned a celebration meal for Zoe's birthday (Easter Sunday the 8th). Another ex-Cardiff medic, Marjorie Schlier, came round for the party and then graciously offered Zoe a bed at her slightly more civilised flat, away from all the football talk. Paul and Croft went for a nocturnal cycle across the Bellecour (the largest square in Europe), but I could think of nothing but sleep.

Friday the 13th

Friday morning was spent recovering. We met Zoe at the metro station and cycled gently around the local sights. The highlight of the morning was undoubtedly the Fourviere Cathedral. Set on a steep hill overlooking the city, the sheer opulence of the architecture was astounding. We spent a few minutes trying to decipher the meaning of the various frescoes and gargoyles, before descending into Vieux Lyon, the old city. We spent the afternoon at a local park, playing football with some local lads, before meeting up with Marjo again and going out to the local English hostelry to sample the hospitality of the city. It was exemplary (if noticeably more smoky than such British establishments). The street artists were out in force - we stood to watch a troupe of mimes in one square and then further on sat and listened to a local band play REM and the Beatles.

 Saturday the 14th

Paul and I woke Croft early and we all headed down to the station for our return trip. We had to travel via Auxerre to drop off the bikes. Croft stayed on in Lyon, so Paul and I took all three hired bikes (Zoe's was her own) and navigated our way across France, using the time to finish Tony Anthony's book. The inevitable weekend rail delays meant that we missed our bus home from Paris, but after a nervous few hours on the waiting list, we caught the last bus home that day. We arrived in London at 7am, caught an early train and were back in Cardiff by noon. Paul travelled on to Swansea.

Zoe travelled back to North Wales separately, managing to start later and finish earlier than us.