Paris-Brest-Paris 2019 Ride Report

[muz]

I posted the following report in my club reflector. A few people have asked for it, so I am posting here as well. Likely too long and detailed.

TL;DR version:

Strava link with pictures: https://www.strava.com/activities/2657899240
More pictures: https://photos.app.goo.gl/789Mjsxj6KjKZf3n8

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Day 1 - Rambouillet to Loudeac - 280 miles

I ride the mile or so from the hotel, join the queue for the 5am start. I hear Rob yell my name, but the line is long and I don't feel like cutting in. Further back I join a larger group of SFR riders: Bill, Craig, Anson, Roy and Sourav. After some nervous waiting, the gate opens at 5 and we spill onto the road, after a cobblestone descent and a tricky turn. I keep telling myself: "just don't crash!"

It is a large group, but the roads are fairly open, no riding through narrow streets and road furnitures like the last time. The pack seems to stay intact for an hour or so, then thins out. We are passed by the pointy end of the Y start group; they are fast and organized, cut through our pack in no time. We settle in; Bill rides ahead and Sourav follows. We then see Bill stopped on the side and he joins us; no sign of Sourav. First rays of sun.

I see a group of riders stopped on the right, a downed cyclist with blood on her face being tended. We soon see an ambulance going that way. Reminds me to be extra vigilant the first few hours. Sun is low, speeds are high as everyone is running with nervous energy.

The faster Z guys catch us, we then get enveloped in a large group of Y riders. Bill and Craig are further up with a couple SFR riders I can see but not quite identify. I can't get out of the large group as much as I try; I get ahead on climbs and then caught in the descents. We soon arrive in Mortagne, the first rest stop some 70 miles in.

I park my bike and go straight for the soup and mashed potatoes. I see Rob and Sourav doing the same. Somehow it doesn't taste quite as good as I remembered.

I leave with Sourav, Mike Sturgill zooms past on a descent. For a second I think of working harder on the climb to say hi, but realize my chances of catching him are slim.

After a little while, I get passed by two riders, one with Dill Pickle bags (like mine), I yell out "nice bags!". They are
Sam and Brian from Chicago. We roll together for the next 10 miles, chatting. Being on fixed gear, I normally go harder on climbs, but they are going harder still. They have done a lot of riding in Wisconsin, where the hills are steep. After a while, I tell them I will back off a little, but they pull over to stop and I ride on.

By now, the gentle headwind has turned into a constant in-your-face annoyance. The 60 miles from Mortagne to the first control at Villaines-la-Juhel seem to take forever. I finally arrive, some 45 minutes behind schedule and feeling down. But this town will lift your spirits, it seems they are having a non-stop party at the control, feels like the end of a Tour de France stage.

Trying to make up for lost time, I keep the break short. Get a pastry, fill the bottles, back on the bike. A few miles out, I get passed by Yu and Jeff, who asks me: "are you soft pedaling?" I tell him that's all I got on fixed gear, he veers into the oncoming lane to check it out, in disbelief.

By now, the wind is in full force, which is a double whammy on fixed gear. I am mostly riding solo in the wind, and my cadence is too slow, effectively pushing a larger gear. I feel grumpy. I have to remind myself: you are so lucky to be here, enjoy it!

I start passing some 90-hour riders, and note that this is quite a bit earlier than last time. We are not even 300k in, and they started 8-10 hours earlier. Many are stopped, looking at their phones, seemingly no longer interested in riding.

A little before Fougères Anson and Roy catch up -- I did not know if they were behind or ahead. I tell Anson I had been praying for a tailwind, but I will make do with their company instead. We roll together for a while, but a larger group with Robert S catches up and the group feels too large and disorganized so I drop back and ride on my own.

I get into the control and find Roy and Anson there, we ride to the cafeteria, where we happen to sit down with Bill and Louis (Santa Cruz RBAs) for lunch; they are volunteering in Fougères. Jeff marvels that I am there, he must have figured I will never make it at the rate I was going. After good company and a nice meal, my spirits are lifted. We leave together, I expect I can ride with them all the way to the overnight control as there are no big hills in between.

A Danish woman gets on our wheel on the climb out of town, then stays with us for a while. She must have found our pace insufficient, she proceeds to go to the front and then pulls at a brisk pace. Roy lets go as she speeds up further to bridge to the next group, we tease him about her riding him off her wheel.

A German rider in Seattle Randonneurs jersey falls back and rides with us for a while. He had lived in Seattle, he says he likes the jersey as it's better and cheaper than Rapha (hard to argue). It's the golden hour and lighting looks magical, sun rays piercing through the clouds. I take a few pictures. When I see just the right background I pull out my camera quickly and drop my USB battery. I yell out to Roy that I'll go back and get it, and he acknowledges it. As I search the roadside for a small black cylinder in the fading light, my good friends Roy and Anson launch an attack. I ride hard for a mile or so, but no sight. Then I see the German guy stopped at a roadside stand; I give up and settle in my pace. Soon Robert passes by in a large group again.

There are some menacing rain clouds up in the horizon, occasional sprinkles, then some very wet roads. I arrive in Tinténiac as it's getting dark. I sit down with Robert at the cafeteria, Eileen and Paul V sitting nearby. Paul has called it quits, he is questioning his choice of bike, a Bike Friday. Robert tells me Anson and Roy were leaving as he arrived.

I leave and settle in for the solo 55 mile ride in the dark to Loudéac, my planned overnight stop. I am 2 hours behind schedule, I figure I will arrive at 1:30am. Yet I know there are 2 more days and I can't make up for the wind delay by riding harder now.

I catch a glimpse of the first riders returning from Brest. There seem to be a few small groups with escort cars behind, definitely looking like a race. I remember seeing them around the same place last time, but now in the dark.

Further on, I see more riders returning, now in ones and twos, and no escorts. They are dropped down on their bars, look like angels with wings when my light falls on their reflective vests. After what feels like forever, I arrive at the control. There is a steep ramp with a 90-degree turn at the end. The rider ahead slows down in the gravel before, I know I can't make it up without building up some speed, so walk my bike sheepishly and find a spot to park.

To my surprise, I see Roy and Anson walking around - they tell me they are looking for their bikes. If you don't note where you park, it's awfully hard to spot it in the sea of bikes under sodium lights (and the fog of riding all day). I get my card stamped, pick up my drop bag and head for the hotel. Check-in is easy, the clerk asks my name and hands me a key. I devour the food laid out in the breakfast room, take a quick shower and get in bed, set the alarm for 4.5 hours later, turn off the light. Next thing I hear is my alarm -- surely this can't be right?!


Day 2 - Loudéac to Brest to Loudéac, 210 miles

I had gone straight to sleep last night, so it takes me a while to get ready. One of the few advantages of riding solo; I don't care when I leave. Quick breakfast and on the road shortly after 8. The sun is shining, but it's still foggy and cold. I see Sourav stopped on the side, he says he's putting on an extra layer. I pass Robert shortly after.

I climb past many riders, legs feeling good after the rest. I come upon Sam and Brian; they had a hard time sleeping in the noisy gym.

The hills ease up a little, then I arrive at Saint-Nicolas-du-Pélem "secret control", which is not so secret. I see Cheryl, she is still peeved about the tough first day, such a slog.

I see a tandem I recognize stopped at a roadside stand; soon they pass me and we exchange pleasantries. It's Ed and Mary (of Chasing Mailboxes fame). They tell me they had been riding with a number of my compatriots -- we are easy to spot wearing the SFR jersey.

I arrive in Carhaix, where I meet the group (Rob, Brian, Anson and Roy). We sit down for a meal, I leave before them as has been the custom. I really like the quiet pretty climb towards Huelgoat.

Soon after, I am passing a rider with 6 feet of space, she veers straight left just a few feet in front of me, miraculously steers back and stays upright. She had fallen asleep for a split second. My adrenaline is running high, I feel like sprinting away. Not sure if she speaks English, I say "you really need to stop and take a nap -- this is not safe". She says, "Yes, you are right" and falls back.

I approach Roc'h Trevezel, the feared big "climb" of the ride at 1250ft elevation. Doesn't feel like much of a climb, gets a little steeper at the top. As I start the descent, I start watching the endless lines of people coming up, back from Brest. I yell words of encouragement when I spot someone I recognize, or someone in the SFR jersey. There goes bunch of Seattle guys, I yell at Andy.

I finally arrive at Sizun, a busy town overrun by cyclists. I stop to fill my bottles at a roadside table; Rob and Brian show up. I leave, then realize I forgot to ask Rob whether he was going to stop for a beer as he had mentioned earlier. I think of turning back, but push on.

There is a little climb, then the inbound and outbound routes are split. I hear "I didn't realize you were riding fixed". It's the English guy I passed earlier and recognized as he is not wearing a helmet. We start talking, he has done Gold Rush and Cascade on fixed gear. He is riding an older Mercian, so we have lots to talk about. After a while he needs to stop to plug in his Garmin, then passes me as I'm taking a bio break. I see him on the bridge to Brest, where everyone stops for a picture. He takes my picture as I stand by my bike.

I remember the long lines at Brest cafetaria, so stop at a pattiserie on the long climb to the control. I eat a fromage blanc dessert and buy a chorizo and cheese ficelle just the right size for my jersey pocket. I get into the control, get a stamp, fill my bottles and see Cheryl getting ready to leave. She is surprised that I'm leaving as she has seen me roll in. We ride together, lots of stop lights on the way out. She expresses frustration, I say "you are used to this, you ride in the city!" She then rides like in San Francisco, jumps a curb to go past a line of stopped cars. I follow, she just makes the light and I stop, and she's gone.

I stop at my favorite crepe stand, just where the routes combine before Sizun. I come back to my bike to find an older French man looking at my bike. He moves the pedal up and down, showing that the chain doesn't move, i say "pignon fixe" in my very limited French. He mimes riding up hills, flexes his arm, we have a moment without a common language.

Back through Sizun, I decide not to stop even though a cold beer is appealing. I make it into Carhaix at the golden hour. Quick meal, then put on night gear and get ready to leave. I notice the volunteer checking the riders for lights and reflective vests, very dilligent. I hand her a pin, she's thrilled, gives me a hug and we have a picture taken before I leave.

I stop at a pasture with cows as the darkness falls. It looks so surreal, I can't help but take a few pictures.

I come upon a group, one wearing SFR jersey and vest. I yell out "San Francisco", Peter C answers "who is this?" He tells me his tales of woe. I am always up for hearing somebody else's tales of woe, and Peter is full of stories. We discuss plans for the rest of the ride. They have not slept much and have little time in the bank, I recommend sleep by Loudéac if not earlier. Peter falls back to rejoin his posse, I push on.

I remember enjoying this section last time, still feels great but now in darkness. I go through the secret control again, don't even bother to fill my bottle.

I ride past big groups, some pushing their bikes up the hill. I feel bad; long way to the next control, and even longer to finish, and the hills are relentless.

First red lights marking wind turbines, then a spill of light in the horizon. I know it's getting close. At the top of a hill, a volunteer is shaking a flag and yelling in French, I barely make out "arretez" (stop) and "virage" (curve). Then it's a thrilling descent, steep with some sharp turns in the dark. I don't remember this, perhaps a new section.

As I enter the corral at the control, I hear my name. It's Dan B on his way out. This time I have no problem negotiating the ramp. I see Cheryl about to leave for her BnB some 10km out. We discuss departure time in the morning, she is thinking 8. I suggest later; she will be closer to the next control, perhaps leave at 9?

Same routine; back to hotel, eat, shower, go to bed. This time I wake every hour or two. Wake up to the alarm, pack my bag, breakfast, then drop the bag at the control. I meet Jean Francois (who is running the drop bags), we chat a little, I depart around 8:15, an hour after control closing. Oh, I see the dreaded ramp now in daylight, it's nothing!