I started the journey back to Paris. I was feeling ropey but probably not as bad as at the start, so I vowed that I would complete this ride whatever happened and would make Paris even if I ran out of time, - to pack now as I did in '91 would be totally pointless and all I'd been through so far would have been for nothing!

Stardom! The pace seemed to increase by accident as the motorbike slowly droned past with the cameraman doing all sort of acrobatics on the back of it getting different shots. At Sizun he left us and I had a pre-planned stop at the little supermarket and stocked up with bonk rations.

More steady climbing followed to Roc-Trevezel, the TV mast shrouded in low cloud as the drizzle began to ease off. Just as I crested the hill the cloud suddenly cleared opening up the views around us across the Monts D'Arree. A swift descent followed along the roller coaster main road. I was keeping well in because of traffic, when a momentary loss of concentration sent my front wheel skidding off of the lip of the tarmac into heavy gravel. At 40 mph I had no choice but to stay with it until I could see a smoothish bit where I could risk re-entry. My front wheel survived the ensuing crunch and I stayed wide awake to Carhaix Plouger where I arrived at about 6.30 p.m.

Again the place was humming, as was my stomach. Here I actually began to eat some proper food. The control had a good selection of meals and after half eating some Rice & Chicken I wandered off to find somewhere to kip. I stumbled across an empty surgery by a running track, - no one about so I sneaked in and slumbered on a soft leather couch for half an hour until John Tacker arrived. Time for a quick wash, bathe feet (I was suffering badly from "Hot foot" something I seem to get on rides over 100 miles these days - anyone know a cure??) and exchange batteries and clothing at the Baxters coach, then set off with a group of riders into the evening sunshine with a steady tail wind.


Frame Number

Darkness came quite quickly, - I was worried about sleep on this section, but it worked out OK.

I kept meeting lot's of people I knew during the night, so conversation made time pass faster and the miles seemingly so. Anne Learmouth was riding her fixed wheel, with Dave Lewis going through a tired patch behind her. They dropped us on a couple of long descents on what was another very undulating section. Hallucinations had been few and far between on this ride but then I had a great one, - chatting merrily to the guy on my inside I looked across an there was no-one there, only a few people behind me. After a couple of miles I twigged it, the little lens on the side of my Cateye headlight was scattering a beam across to the hedge, with my computer casting a shadow and hey-presto a ghost cyclist, - at least it was to my ailing brain.

I started a conversation with a French gent, who knew England well, and informed me that he came from Roubaix, and was called Andre Mille. Then on a steady climb he asked if I could slow the pace for him on the hill, as he was 70 and had rheumatism in one arm!
I managed not to fall off the bike in shock and rode with him to Loudeac which I reached with great relief.

I was extremely dopey and felt my legs starting to cramp badly, obviously the fluid loss from my stomach problems was now beginning to affect me. I visited the Croix Rouge post where I was rapidly treated to an excellent massage which loosened up the legs a treat, so at around 1 a.m. in the morning I set off again into the night.

Watching this I forget to set my timer, and promptly fell properly asleep for the first time on the ride.

An hour later I suddenly lurched awake, freezing cold and dripping with condensation. Panic! what time is it? - discover only a hour has gone by, then a bunch whizzed past so I hurriedly crammed my blanket into the saddlebag and dashed after the group. It was Noel & Pete on (or in?) the Greenspeed again. I swear Noel was asleep, - if not he was very relaxed.

Desperate hunger signals were now coming from my brain, - I really didn't want to stop now, suddenly a dazzling orange flashing light in the road appeared, it was a Marshals car with a chap ushering us down a track to a Secret Control. Perfect timing, - just when I needed it most.
Inside the hall it was warm, as was the Peppery soup they served up with crusty bread.

I didn't stop long here. My legs were beginning to cramp again, so I managed a small breakfast, and filled water bottles and left for the relatively short hop to Fougeres.

It was now a glorious morning and this was a very scenic part of the ride. Again I met lot's of friends and gave the camera a good airing. My feet were now giving tremendous trouble. I'd actually bought some spare cotton socks at Loudeac to try and alleviate the pain, Talcum powder didn't help, only pouring water into my shoes - and I needed that to drink.

The final miles to Fougeres were very painful with feet and legs playing up like hell, not helped by very heavy traffic into the town, this became a definite low point.

The control made up for it though. I managed to eat a bit more food, had another brilliant massage from the Croix Rouge, and had about 40mins doze in the Sun before leaving.

Leaving with another large group I found we kept jumping Red traffic lights through the town, an activity I joined in with only for fear of being run over from behind. Isn't this a bit dodgy I asked a French-Canadian guy beside me.

" Don't worry mate" he said " this is the PBP, if someone knocks you over on this ride the locals would lynch them!"

Arriving at Villaines La juhel again, this time with opportunity to buy photos of oneself taken on the way out I indulged in one, and in the restaurant found John, Jim from Bristol and Glyn from Bath there, now ahead of me. We decided to group up for the final night, so after a brief doze on a mattress we headed off into the twilight zone again.
Stopping after a few miles to argue over which was the right way, we continued on to a town where as we arrived all the street lights went out plunging us into darkness. A Cafe-Bar was open, so we piled in and sat down and ordered Hot Chocolate drinks much to the amusement of the locals. Further up the rode we were joined by Andrew and others, and we continued on into an even blacker night then the one previous. Again countless stars including shooting types were embossed against a velvet backdrop. I kept thinking a beam would suddenly come from outer space and whisk us all off so some Inter-Galactic lunatic asylum.

A sign appeared on the verge informing us that in the next town was a Cafe/Bar opening 24hrs for PBP! When it arrived it was too tempting to pass by. We all collapsed inside, John instantly fell asleep and the rest of us ordered hot drinks. We were offered a free bed for the night but refrained and plodded of into the darkness again.
After a while all of our Cateye front lights seemed to fail simultaneously. No cosmic drain was apparent, so we just spent ages fiddling with contacts and bulbs, and eventually headed off for the Control at Mortagne Au Perche.

It had taken most of the night to get there , but it was now less than 100 miles to Paris. I actually had a slight appetite and managed half an omelette for breakfast. On leaving it was getting light again. I rode a few miles on my own then heard a clicking of cogs and gears as Rocco's rocket flew past, about 10mph too fast to jump on. They'd had I good kip during the night so were going well. I found this quite a slow section but with a few stops and starts plodded along with a handful of other guys of various Nationalities who like me were running on a tail wind and a prayer that it wouldn't drop for few hours.

Cramp bit into my left leg again. I stopped at a Pharmacie and spent 6 quid on a tube of balm, and as I walked backto the bike the cramp disappeared, C'est la vie!

A long flat section followed by a long run downhill to Nogent Le Roi, the final control, barely 40 miles from Paris. It was 10.30a.m, time for a brief doze, no appetite but a Creme Caramel went down OK then the final run in, or rather slog in. It was a long long climb out helped only by a strong tail wind. Weakness really began to set it. I was expecting a surge of Adrenalin for the last 20 miles but it never came, legs just became heavier, the hills steeper. I crammed some disgusting tasting energy bars into my mouth and started to curse every turn of the cranks.

The return ride to the hotel was awful. 7 miles back into the headwind, and then having to disassemble the bikes again with aching limbs wasn't much fun, but Baxters had laid on a celebration meal and even though my stomach still wasn't right I managed about half of it.
Most of our crowd had been successful so there was a party atmosphere, then at midnight it was time for 6 hours of the deepest sleep ever before we began the journey back to abnormality.

PBP '95 Gong.

Weary gang, John Thacker, Glyn Davies, Graham Brodie, Jim Roberson, Annemarie Manley, Bill Best, Mike Steer.