Day One – Monday 16th September.
“B****r!” I was two miles out of Witney before I realised I’d forgotten my passport. Having about-turned I met Neil Tigwell on his way to work. “Morning Neil.”
“Er… morning Kev(?)” As we passed Neil’s quizzical expression indicated that although he may have been almost positive it was Monday morning when he left home, he wasn’t nearly so sure now. For moments like these it’s advisable to have “DON’T PANIC” printed in a large clear font somewhere in the region of the handlebars - it provides a calming message on which to focus while the mind gets on with erasing the bits it doesn’t like.
Just as I was leaving for the second time the kitchen fitter arrived. By chance, ho ho, this was the week that Brigitte had arranged to have her new kitchen put in. I couldn’t get away without explaining that I was riding down to Portsmouth via Winchester, where I would be catching the ferry to Cherbourg for three days of cycle touring. Then, if I weren’t snapped up by a millionairess, I would be travelling back on Saturday and Sunday. I left him the key, he gave me the usual “You’re mad” look, and as I rode down the path the guy with the clapperboard cried, “All Aboard the Cherbourg Tour – Take Two”.
29 miles later I made it to the meeting place in Wantage Market Square with 10 minutes to spare. The others at the start were Laurent (Tour Leader), Helen (City Section’s nurse), Nigel and Diane (recent arrivals from South Africa), Amanda and John (MTBers), Neil (keen gardener), and Eve (bon viveur). We were waiting for Allen (clockmaker), when he arrived we set off towards Hackpen Hill to pick up Mavis (pink poet laureate) in Lambourne.
After a pleasant lunch at the Bacon Arms Hotel in Newbury we took the scenic route to Winchester. So scenic in fact that John opened a link in his chain on one of the better climbs. Our destination for the day was a place called Shawford just south of Winchester’s beguiling one way system which, with the help of Helen’s Landranger and Mavis’s traffic calming, we safely negotiated during rush hour to arrive at ten to six. Here some us stayed in the Bridge Hotel where Victor Meldrew met his end in the last series of One Foot in the Grave, and the rest in a less notorious B&B nearby. In the hotel bar that evening we were joined by two more of the group, Roger (sailor) and Sue (time trialist). The group were now 12 and I had 90 miles for the day.
Checked in with HQ before going to bed to find that things there weren’t going quite to plan. Brigitte had arrived home to find that the old units had been stripped out and a message to say that the new kitchen units weren’t ready yet but should arrive tomorrow!
Day Two – Tuesday 17th
September.
Train wake-up call (the bridge the
hotel gets its name from is a railway bridge approximately 6 feet from the hotel). I was
sharing a room with Allen and after getting washed shaved and packed we were the first
down for the obligatory Full English. While Allen changed the tube in his rear wheel I
settled up at a reasonable £20 a head.
We set
off for Portsmouth and picked up Nigel, Diane, Helen, Mavis and Roger from the B&B on
the way. The roads were quite busy on the way to Portsmouth and I managed to find
somewhere to post my next audax entry on the way. After climbing Portsdown Hill we stopped
at the top to refuel and to take in the panorama of Portsmouth, Gosport, and Hayling
Island. We sailed down the other side into Cosham, past Queen Alexandra Hospital’s
incinerator (where I last saw my right leg back in 1980) and onto the cycle track. Due to
the poor signposting we were soon off the cycle track, picking it up again at the
Mountbatten Sports Centre. This led us to the ferry terminal where we joined the last
three members of our group: Steve and Ellen (city section), and Liz (on doctors orders).
We were now 16 strong.
The
ferry crossing took 5 hours but once I had located the bargain bucket full of Speckled Hen
at 75p a can the time passed fairly quickly. In Cherbourg it was a short ride to the
hotels of about a mile where Laurent had provided the choice of more palatial
accommodation for those that desired it. Two of the party did, but there was only room for
one due to "ze normal diabolical French service". There were no such problems
with the service at the Le Grand Hotel, even accommodating the extra ex-Logis de France
customer was not too much trouble. Two dogs and two cats roamed the foyer, until the foyer
was chock-a-block with 15 bikes carefully stacked by Madame Cholet.
Now down
to business. We went out for the first of many gastronomic extravaganzas that the Wantage
Section specialize in (Ed: Prosecution submits photos A & B as evidence,
m’lud, and rests its case…). The naive newcomer is forgiven for thinking this is merely a cycling
tour - it is in fact a food fest for which the cycling element is a means of maintaining a
keen appetite and is utilised as a method of getting to the more out of the way
restaurants. I had oysters for the first time - it had never occurred to me that they
wouldn't be cooked! This was preceded by another new experience for me - shelling out £20
for a bottle of wine! But when in Rome…
32 miles
for the day. Checked in with HQ, kitchen units have turned up.
Day Three – Wednesday 18th
September.
Came down to breakfast to find that
Mavis had received the sad news that her mother had died. She took the next ferry back to
Portsmouth.
We
started with a route along the east coast called the Val du Saire into a relentless 20mph
headwind. Neil led us to Barfleur where we stopped for lunch and a respite from the wind.
Having had lunch at a cafe overlooking the harbour I began setting up for the off but
found that most of the group were either still deciding which sweet to have or about to
take a wander around Barfleur. I set off with Allen, John & Amanda to get some more
miles in before returning to the Hotel. We continued along the Val du Saire heading South
through Saint-Vaast until we passed a huge bike shop between Quettehou and Morsalines.
They sponsored their own team, had a huge range of bikes, chainrings, sprockets, clothing
etc, including Laurent’s favoured Gitane. We stopped for Allen to replace his
innertube and I didn't manage to get out of the shop without spending buying something. I
picked up a mirror to replace the one Brigitte broke in the New Forest. And she says I
never think of her!
From
here we headed inland and climbed to a great view of what appeared to be an oyster farm in
the sea. At Valogne we stopped for coffee and picked up some fruit. We arrived back at the
hotel at 5:30 for a kip, shower, and down at 7:30 to meet the others. Most of the group
didn't get back until 7:15 - Steve had had 3 punctures! I couldn’t keep up with the
pace of the Gastronomes and just went out for a beer or two.
59 miles
for the day. Brigitte said she had found a large crack and was having trouble with her
downpipe!
Day Four – Thursday 19th
September.
Got down to breakfast at 8:30. The
continental breakfast of bread, jam, juice, croissant and tea is very different from the
full english I’m used to but is at least as good for cycling on. We got all the bikes
out into the street and headed west along the coast road to St Germain des Vaux. This was
seriously hilly but very picturesque. Midway up one of the climbs Allen decided his rear
tyre needed some air, stopped, but was unable to release his foot from the pedal. Once he’d
got his foot out of the shoe he, I, and Laurent spent 10 minutes trying to release the
cleat from the pedal. One of the two screws holding the cleat in had gone leaving the
cleat loose and rotating giving no purchase on the cleat. Eventually we got it out and
Allen had to cycle the rest of the day without a cleat in his right shoe.
We stopped for lunch at the St Germaine restaurant (the only
cafe/bar/restaurant in the village) and they managed to accommodate the thirteen of us at
one table made up of many smaller ones. Then the main business of the Wantage Day began.
First course was a choice of salami or rabbit pate. The plat du jour was either Roast pork
and pasta or chips, or Beef sausage and pasta or chips, or Moules frites. They were also
able to cater for the vegetarian offering an omelette. The bread baskets were reloaded
regularly and the bread itself was superb. The table also held several carafes of wine and
water. Then the cheese board came out - a complete Camembert and what looked to me like
Port Salut - and we helped ourselves to as much as we liked. And didn’t we like it!
Next, the sweets - apple pie or ice cream, and finally coffee. The bill came to less than
120 euros equating to 10 Euros each for a four course meal with wine and coffee still
leaving a decent tip! Now, where did we leave the bikes?
Squinting
as we came back out into the sunlight we saddled up and flew down to the lighthouse at the
Cap de la Hague which marks the point were the Atlantic meets the English Channel. Laurent
had a track marked on his map that joined two roads so giving us a different route back to
the main road. John Bridgman and Pat Hurt would have been proud of this one, the track
gradually degenerated until we were faced with heaving the bikes over rocks followed by
pushing them through shingle. I turned back, along with Diane and Laurent, and rode round
to meet the more intrepid on the other side. Here we realised we had lost Neil, Amanda,
John, Nigel, and Allen - they flew on past the road which led to the track and had carried
on.
From the
lighthouse we headed for the Nez de Jobourg (home from home for Diane) where we were
greeted with the best view of the tour. Having climbed to a peak at the north end of a
small bay with a classic sandy beach, we descended to the beach and then climbed out of
the southern end of the bay along a road which cut through a heather laden hillside. Just
before Jobourg Laurent gave the group the choice of the "very scenic" ride down
to the Nez or to head back towards Cherbourg, The vote was almost unanimous for turning
back. We stopped in Beamont-Hague for coffee and met the others just as they were leaving
the cafe.
This
evening we split into two groups, the Lite-bites and the Gastronomes. I joined the
Lite-bites. The Gastronomes dissappeared into a popular restaurant recommended by Madame
Cholet. The rest of us went to a brasserie were I tried the Normandy Cider draught - not
as good as the Brittany Cider I had tried at the Semaine Federale.
48 miles
for the day. Brigitte rang to say the crack in the kitchen wall isn’t a structural
flaw and the plumber’s coming round to fix the downpipe. She didn’t say how much
it would cost.
Day Five – Friday 20th
September.
We headed out along by the railway track, which was nice and
flat until we turned left and headed up a
lungbuster of a hill to get out of the valley. We rolled through Brix to Valognes arriving
at 11:30 on market day. Laurent secured a table for all of us at 12:15 in one of the cafes
and we spent the intervening 30 minutes perusing the market stalls. Bread, chickens,
ducks, meat, fruit, veg, and what's that smell? Aha, cheese. Laurent and Allen purchased
some extremely mature local cheese.
Into the
restaurant were we began with an aperitif of Ricard, an aniseed liqueur. Main course (no
starter today) with wine, sweet, and coffee. Finally left at 2:30 - a 3 hour lunch stop!
We hurried along to a recommended Calvados maker east of Valognes in Sotteville. Went a
little silly and started racing down the hills and up the rollers with Neil and John -
pedalling like the clappers, staying in the big gears to the top, collapsing on the
handlebars gasping for air and then doing it again!
In Sotteville I had a slug of 20
year old Calvodos and bought a bottle to take home. John punctured on the way and won the
award for the speediest repair of the week. Back to Cherbourg - headed in from the
Southwest along a route where it appeared we were going to skirt around a huge hill into
Cherbourg. This turned into one of the longest, hardest climbs of the week followed by an
adrenaline packed ride through Cherbourg rush hour traffic and the one way system. At one
point Neil could see the hotel and shouted “This way”. I lined up beside him
where upon we noticed we were face to face with four lanes of traffic revving their
engines on the opposite side of the traffic lights. Then we saw the no entry signs.
Whoops! We slid away from the front of the grid along the pedestrian crossing, heads hung
low, and joined the rest of the group for the race around the oneway system.
Into the
bath and down in the foyer at 7:15 to pay the bill ready for the 6:30 start the following
morning. At lunchtime Laurent had pre-booked for 15 of us at the Cafe de Paris for 7:30pm.
We were in the banquet room, all around one table. Neil and John ordered a dual level
tower of Seafood, the biggest the restaurant do, called Le Admirale, it consisted of
whelks, winkles, oysters, prawns, clams, crayfish, crab and lobster. I shared a more
modest seafood platter called Le Capitaine. Cheese, sorbet in vodka! And finally coffee.
It's a serious business attacking a mountain of exo-skeletal marine life and you are
provided with a toolkit fit for the job. Pins for extracting the whelks, non-handed
shortened forks for releasing the oysters from their shells, forked lance for digging the
meat out of the legs of crayfish, a nut cracker type tool for breaking into the crab, and
of course the fingers, which you bring with you.
The bill
came to a 545 Euros for 15 people, and was a fitting finale to three days on the culinary
continent of the world. This was also Steve and Ellen’s wedding anniversary –
that was the kind of fortuitous timing that has always evaded me. Went on to Le Scuba
across the road from the hotel for a few nightcaps with Neil, Amanda and John.
Brigitte had phoned earlier to say that she had signed the divorce papers and was marrying the kitchen fitter. Apparently she has persuaded him to do all the little jobs which have been languishing on my list of things to do for a little while now. Needless to say the kitchen fitter doesn't have a bike but is the type of person I think every cyclist should have! Didn’t notice the mileage today.
Day Six – Saturday 21st
September.
Knock knock. Ugh? Oh *&%$! The
alarm hasn't gone off and it's 6:40! Pulled on some clothes, cleaned my teeth, stuffed
everything into the panniers and stumbled down the stairs where the rest of the group were
patiently waiting for the off.
We rode
to the terminal in the dark – a long trail of leds on the road to the ferry. Up the
ramp, and up the stairs to breakfast. Spent most of the time on the ferry bashing this
into the palmtop until I remembered the bargain bucket and shelled out 75p for a can of
Gales Ale. When we docked at Portsmouth we parted company with Steve, Ellen and Jill. From
here we managed to follow the cycle track all the way out of Portsmouth and then climbed
back up over Portsdown Hill.
After
riding through Soberton we stopped at a pub for a beer before continuing into Winchester
over the rolling downs. In Winchester we were struck by the difference between France and
the UK. At 4:30pm on a Saturday we couldn’t find a teashop that was still open! Of
course the Wantage section are very resourceful where food is involved and one was
eventually sniffed out. From here we split up and went to different B&Bs. I was
sharing with Allen and we were in the same B&B as Helen, Nigel and Diane. I sat down
on the edge of the bed and noticed a fairly pungent aroma. I couldn’t place the
smell. Was it me? Was it my shoe? It seemed to be getting stronger but I couldn’t
place the source, and then: “Allen? Where’s that cheese?” - “Oh, it’s
in my bike bag, just there.”
I opened the window and went for a
shower.
Day Seven – Sunday 22nd
September.
Back to the Full English. After
breakfast Nigel and Diane left for the station. They were catching the train back to
Didcot because Diane’s knee hadn’t recovered from pushing two lots of luggage
across to France. Allen, Helen and Myself rode down to King Alfred’s Monument and met
the rest of the group. Here we said goodbye to Roger and Neil, leaving just 8 of us for
the journey back to King Alfred’s Monument in Wantage.
Just as
the minute hand met the hour hand on the twelve Laurent pulled up outside the lunchstop in
Hurstbourne Tarrant – a pub with a rather delightful collection of beer mats. Again
the Wantage connection with food seems almost divine. The next stop would be Lambourne via
Combe Gibbet. Sue had forewarned Pat that we would be stopping in for tea and lucky for us
he wasn’t picking up points from the audax calendar.
I parted
from what was left of the group at the bottom of Blowingstone and continued on to Witney
where the kitchen fitter hadn’t moved in but a spanky new cooker and hob had.
And finally a word about the organiser. I did nothing other
than say yes to go on this trip. He even phoned me to check what type of accommodation I
preferred. The ferry, accommodation on both sides of the channel, food, timing, all were
arranged by Monsieur Chambard - and what a very fine job he made of it.
Total
mileage? Umm… never mind. See you next year.
Kevin Hickman
West Oxon.