The End: Biarritz to Home

To finish the trip, we enjoyed a couple of days and nights in Biarritz soaking up the best weather of the whole tour and exploring the warren of streets that made up the city centre. Our only pressing issue was buying bike bags and then dismantling the bikes to ensure that we could transport them home. After a couple of bus rides we found a decathlon relatively easily, and bought two bags that would do the job just fine. We then dismantled the bikes on the street outside the hotel, removing wheels, pedals, turning the handle bars and then chucking everything into the bag!

Bike bags packed and ready to go at Biarritz airport

The journey home was going to be something of an ordeal, with two flights, a night at a Manchester airport hotel, a train journey and then a final 20 mile ride on the bikes to overcome before we could say we were home! The airports were actually very accommodating of the bikes, and we were surprised by how painless the whole thing was really. Biarritz to Gatwick, then up to Manchester  we went, before checking into a hotel for the final night. 

The moment of truth however, came the next morning when we had the challenge of assembling the bikes again. With only Dad's front brake proving to difficult to reassemble, we set off for the train station where we would catch a train to Clitheroe. However here came near disaster, as we set off out of the hotel car park at the airport, and had gone no more than 20 metres when I attempted to ride right (now the wrong way) round a roundabout. Seeing a Volkswagen estate heading straight for me, I quickly stacked it into the middle of the roundabout to avoid an even worse accident! Brushing myself down, and believing that Dad hadn't seen (...he had), we made the train, and eventually rolled off at Clitheroe and began the final leg home. Feeling every one of the last 14 days in our legs by this point, it was by no means easy, however conditions were perfect, and after roughly 90 minutes, we were rolling down from Rathmell, across the bypass and along the last half mile home. 

Awaiting us was a welcome home party just as had waved us off 15 days previously, and a well earned afternoon of rest on the patio!. A final mention must go to everyone who has helped by sponsoring us. With the total standing just short of £4000, we thank you for your generous support. All in all, a hugely successful and enjoyable trip, and one that has given both of us a desire to take on another similar challenge in the not too distant future. 

Thanks,

Jack and Gavin

Home at last!

Day 11: Lesperon to Biarritz

The final day's cycle ride was supposedly going to be a simple jaunt down the coast and into Biarritz, less than 40 miles we expected. If we have learnt anything from this trip, it's that the estimates I made on google are wrong, and as it turned out, the victory parade into Biarritz would be nearer 60 miles.

Setting off from Lesperon, and praying for some dry weather, it was no more than 30 seconds out of the hotel door that we were drenched with the first downpour of the day. The rain set in for the first couple of hours, however did eventually clear as we approached (what we thought anyway) was the approach to Bayonne, a city which lies just to the north of Biarritz. 

The journey into Biarritz was fairly uneventful except for a few wrong turns, and a brief spell cycling along an inner-city highway that we almost certainly shouldn't have been on. Deciding to press on through lunch, we completed just over 60 miles in one session, arriving in Biarritz shortly before 3 o'clock. 

Biarritz as a city lived up to all expectations as a beautiful city and there was plenty going on. After a good while patting ourselves on the back for achieving what we set out to do on schedule, neither of us took much persuading to find the nearest bar and begin celebrating. Despite the painful price of beer locally ( of which the worst amounted to 9.60 euros a pint!!!), we sampled some tapas and wine (interestingly called Domaine du Harry) at one of the local wine bars, and had a good night out - all the better for knowing we didn't have to get back on the bike the next day!

Day 10: Biscarosse to Lesperon

Leaving Biscarosse, the sky looked ominously grey, and sure enough it was not long before driving rain made cycling increasingly hard work. With no wrong turns made however, we covered ground relatively quickly, and despite being soaked to the core, we planned to stop in the small town of Mezos for lunch. Once there, we quickly discovered that there was only one establishment open in town (a recurring theme of our trip thus far). The place was heaving with workers from the factory in town however, and even though it had just passed 1pm, that they could not offer a full menu, but would make us a sandwich and chips if we wanted. Not in a position to argue, we quickly agreed, and were pleasantly surprised by the quality of what we got, and it turned out to be the cheapest meal of the trip! Trying to wait until the rain had subsided somewhat, it was to no avail, and thus we were forced to make way again towards Lesperon as the downpour continued.

Two hours later, after battling through the elements, we arrived squelching at the only hotel in town in Lesperon. With no sign of anyone around, we understood from what we could read of a notice on the door, that the receptionist wasn't here (and wouldn't be until 6 or 7 this evening!), and thyat if you had a booking, your key was on a table in the hall, go in and help yourself! We did as instructed, and found the hotel to be perfectly comfortable. As we dried off and attempted to warm up, we watched yet another stage of the Tour de France, something that was increasingly becoming a daily tradition.

Walking through the village, we stumble upon one of the many travelling circuses that seem to be touring the area, and were surprised to see 3 lions, a tiger and what looked like some dwarfed goats on view for passing pedestrians to have a look at. With nothing else really of interest in the village, we made our way into the only bar, had a few beers and a couple of games of pool. This passed the time until the hotel restaurant opened (again, our only choice if we wanted to eat that evening!) where we had a good meal, and a couple of bottles of local wine before bed.

Distance: 56 miles

Day 9: Lacanau to Biscarosse

From Lacanau we were slightly late to start again, probably in some way due to our favourite Aussie the previous night ensuring that we had a good measure of Whisky whilst we waited for him to fetch his car! After this, we headed down the coast to Cap Ferret, where we would need to take another boat across the Bassin D'Arcachon in order to continue our progress towards Biarritz. The weather was again awful, and the locals must have been laughing at the sight of cyclists with no waterproofs dressed for 100 degree heat. The wind and rain however relented at lunchtime, after we had completed around 30 miles through forest to arrive in Cap Ferret, and be told that the boat to Arcachon was cancelled due to the terrible weather.

This presented something of a problem, as if the weather didn't fair up, the route around the bassin would have added another 40 miles onto the journey, and leave us with no way of reaching Biscarrosse that evening. However, for a change the gods were kind to us, and after having a brief tapas lunch on the beach, the people running the ferry announced that a service would resume at 2.30.

Once across the bassin, it was not much further down the coast from Arcachon that we arrived at the Dunes de Pilat. These sand dunes, at just over 100m tall, are the largest in Europe. Throngs of tourists arrive by the bus load to see them, and climb to the top. As if the biking hadn't been challenging enough, we decided to take it on and join the hundreds of others trying to make it to the summit. It was well worth the effort (see pictures later), as due to being the highest point for miles around, the views were incredible.

Biscarosse was still some 25 miles away, but we covered this relatively quickly as the land flattened out again, and for a brief time the wind seemed to be at our backs. Though Biscarrosse didn't really have much to offer, we had a hearty meal in the restaurant 'Le Pub' next door to the hotel, getting talking to an English couple who had retired to Biscarosse recently. After this it was an early night, in anticipation of our penultimate day in the saddle on Wednesday.

Distance: 59 miles

Day 8: Royan to Lacanau

The first part of our journey from Royan to Lacanau, would have to be made by ferry, to cross the Gironde, a body of water that eventually becomes the Garonne and Dordogne rivers that flow around Bordeaux. Thus on yet another wet and windy morning, we first had to cycle along the seafront, and await the ferry across. The crossing would only take about 45 minutes, but with the wait at the port, this would ensure that we had a late start, not really getting going on the bikes until about 11am.

Once across, we made good progress along the cycle paths that pass down the coast, and through numerous campsites and resort towns. It was in one such resort that we stopped for lunch, and for the first time all trip were disappointed with our food. Dad's ceasar salad was apparently, in his words, the worst food anyone had ever served him for the past decade. Not fully fortified then, it was no suprise that the afternoon stint through forests, taking in some really poor quality paths more suited to serious off road mountian biking, made the going quite difficult.

We arrived at the golf complex in Lacanau, where our hotel for the night was situated, at around 5pm. After having a drink and some food at the hotel, and with not a lot going on there, we decided to venture into town Lacanau, a 2 mile journey in the most expensive taxi in the world (no mroe than 5 minutes in the taxi came to 20 euros!). Once there, we were surprised by how lively such a small town was on a monday night. Having sampled a few beers in various bars, we ended up in an Australian bar listening to some pretty awful live band, when the heavens opened once again. As the bar was about to close, we decided to ask the barman to call a taxi, only to be informed that there were none available. With the storm really raging (and the barman informing us that this was the first rain they had had since March!), the barman, an Aussie himself, offered to drive us back if we would wait a short while. We were more than happy to oblige, and so after sampling some of the house whisky, we were taken back by the kind barman, and avoided having to pay another fortune on an actual taxi!

Distance: 60 miles

Day 7: Rochefort to Royan

After a wholesome breakfast at our hotel in Rochefort, the Caravelle, we headed south out of the city to cross the river via the Pont Transbordeur. Turns out this thing (see cringe touristy photo above) is auite  structure, and basically consists of a flat deck suspended on wires, which then shimmy across the river. I could only think that there must be an easier way to cross 30 metres of water! Anyway, we travelled along cycle paths from here, out of Rochefort, through Soublise and then through Bourage, town situated within the walls of an old fort. At this point, we sensed an impending downpour, so took refuge in a coffee shop. The weather was still distinctly overcqst qnd miserable, and constantly threatened to throw a shower; Dad's exlamations of the sweltering conditions we would face and my supposed 'madness' at packing a pair of long trousers, were an increasing source of amusement. Our judgement proved shrewd, and rain began to fall almost instantly upon entering the cafe. Sitting it out, the woman serving us told us to expect worse later on in the day, not exactly music to our ears.

Leaving Bourage, we continued south, having to deal with high speed winds again prevailing from the ocean, till we reached Marennes. Here we took a slight detour, along a road laden with oyster farms. Stretching some 2 miles, the road eventually became sand and then a wide bay, with no ferry crossing available. The only option was to turn aruond, and head back through the so called 'Cité de l'Huitres' back to Marennes, and find another way across. The only point of crossing it turned out, was the highway bridge, over which the wind made cycling almost impossible. Nevertheless, we reached the other side eventually, and picked up cycle paths again first through Ronce les Bains, and then through the forest headed for La Palmyre. On this route, the heavens opened again (see below), forcing us to take shelter temporarily under some rather large pine trees, before we could set off and complete the last few miles to La Palmyre, where we stopped for some lunch.

Heavy rain forced us to take shelter in the forest before La Palmyre

The beaches at La Palmyre, after the storm had passed!

Lunch it turned out was perfectly timed in La Palmyre through, as the storm returned

Eventually reaching our destination at Royan after over 50 miles, we were amazed at firstly the amount of places open on a Sunday, and secondly the number of people wandering around. Our hotel was average to say the least, with the room looking like something out of a 1950s timewarp, but we ate well in town and were able to catch a few drinks afterwards despite it being so late on a Sunday evening.

Distance: 56 miles

Day 6: St Michel to Rochefort

Leaving the one horse town of St Michel behind, with no plans to return anytime this century, we set off on an overcast morning through the marshlands of the Vendeé region, headed south for the much larger town of Rochefort, just below La Rochelle. Assured of how searingly hot France would be at this time of year, we had not packed any clothes in anticipation of cold, let alone wet, weather. It was disappointing then when after 30 minutes in the saddle, the heavens began to open, and the wind took on what felt like gale force strength. With driving rain coming head on, progress was slowed to snail pace. Taking brief shelter for a coffee, the weather showed no sign of letting up, and thus we were left with no alternative but to continue head on into the appaling conditions. Around 2 hours later, soaked to the core and increasingly unamused by the deteriorating conditions, we found an open restaurant that after a brief towel down, would allow us to dine. Shivering throughout, we enjoyed a wholesome lunch, and made sure to make it last until the weather relented somewhat, which it did. A further 15 miles was completed relatively quickly and led us into the port town of Rochefort.

Attempting to dry out our saturated shoes 

Finding the hotel with ease, we then set out to locate somewhere to eat/drink/update this blog. Again, we were bewildered to find landlords shutting bars, cafes closing and people leaving the city centre in droves, on a Saturday night! Needless to say, an internet cafe was never going to be found open, and we managed to stumble upon what seemed like one of the few restaurants open in town. A stroke of good fortune then led to us wandering past the open door of a bar, and even though it cuold hardly be described as lively, we decided that beggars could not be choosers, and entered for a couple of beers. Well, what happened next can only be described as totally bewildering. Within 20 minutes of entering, couple after couple of what seemed like the drunkest people in the world continued to stumble through the door. The dukebox was put into action, and an impromptu over 50s disco began to take place in front of us, with a certain lady called Gladys a star attraction (the pictures that will follow will explain everything). To say we were surprised is a gross understatement. Never in our wildest dreams when struggling to find somewhere to eat 2 hours previously, did we envisage finding somewhere to have a few beers, let alone the complete chaos that we ended up in the middle of. Phillipe and Gladys soon became our new best friends, and began partaking in our round of drinks. However, with Gladys in a drunken stupor, and Phillipe preferring to talk with his hands rather than his mouth, it wasnt long before first I was showered in Stella, and then a second was thrown over Dad. Zu Zu the landlady (the woman with the scarlet hair in the photographs) swiftly mopped up so that the obscene show of dancing could continue safely, and replaced our beers. Having had a hilarious night, we called it quits at about 1.30am, and left in complete disbelief at how our night had unfolded.



Dad and I, still dry at this point...



...10 minutes later, Phillipe and I, complete with spilt Stella



Phillipe, Zuzu (the landlady) and mop, first used for cleaning up beer, and then as a dancing aid



Gladys, looking as graceful as she had all night, and another straggler who took the opportunity to get in the photo

Distance: 52 miles

Day 5: Les Sables to St Michel en l'Herm



Fields of sunflowers stretched as far as the eye could see



Not feeling our best after the previous evening's events, we eventually left the hotel at 11am heading further along the coast to St Michel, a small town just off the coast, and according to our planning, just over 30 miles away. A relatively easy day was anticipated, as the majority of the route took in various cycle paths along the coast.

Reaching St Michel, after a 30 mile route had somehow turned into 48 mile stint with a hangover, we were then apprehensive about our accomodation, as this was the reservation I had made by phone. It was with relief then, that we were actually down in the book with a room reserved, even if the hotelier who dealt with us seemed to have had every ounce of personality and cheeriness extracted from his persona prior to our arrival. First he told us of for not using the correct entrance, then again because we had not warned him of our requirement of a twin room. The hotel bar (on a Friday night) was then swiftly closed before 7.30, leaving only the restaurant across the road as the only establishment open in the whole town. We were slightly annoyed then, to discover that the restaurant was full for the evening, though we were told we could eat at the bistro adjoined to the restaurant. The meal turned out to be great, with the only problem being that it came too quickly, and we had finished before 9pm. With nowhere else to go, we decide to enjoy another bottle of wine in the bistro, before calling it a night fairly early on.

Rest day: Bastille Day in Les Sables

The 14th of July is traditionally a day of celebration in France, with street parties and fireworks the order of the day across the country. Knowing this, we had planned a rest day in Les Sables that would coincide with Bastille Day. Having locked the bikes in a storage cupboard at the hotel, we set off to explore the resort on foot for a nice change. I spent some time on the beach, whilst Dad wandered around some of the older parts of town, scouting out what might be occuring later on in the afternoon/evening as part of the festivities.

 

Enquiring at the Bar du Pont, which had become something of a local due to its proximity to the hotel, we were told that a open air music concert, and fireworks would be going on quite near, from 7 onwards. We decided to eat first, and then find where this concert was supposedly happening, which didn't take much doing as it turned out the party was pirate themed, which made it an easy task of following the swathes of Blackbeard type characters towards the town square.

A good crowd of people were gathered, with the cheapest beer we had seen in all our time in France (still €2 a half!) flowing freely. Around 11 o'clock the masses began to congregate on the waters edge, for what we guessed must be the firework display. Obviously having been organised with precision, the street lights all around were then extinguished for a 20 minute period, whilst an extravagant display of fireworks lit up the city. What this must have cost I have no idea, as the amount of fireworks used was incredible, with 5-10 constantly going off for the whole 20 minutes.

After this, wandering back along the marina, we decided to pop into the Bar du Pont again in the hope of catching last orders. Whilst there however, the owner of the bar Serge, hearing us speak English, intorduced us to an English couple called David and Pamela also in the bar. As David was an avid rugby fan, and Serge showed no sign of shutting up shop, we remained in the bar till after 2.30am chatting with David, Pamela and other friends of theirs in the bar. All in all, a great Bastille Day, but with a 9am wake up necessary the next day, not much of a rest day!

N.B. Having trouble with connecting the camera, so photographs will hopefully follow shortly...

Day 4: Bouin to Les Sables D'Olonnes

After Tuesday's marathon stint, Wednesday was supposed to be something of a half day, with only around 40 miles to cover over the course of the day. The day began as Tuesday had ended, with a number of long  straight roads through the marshy flatlands of the region helping us to rack up 20 miles in quick time.

Flatlands around Bouin, near the river Loire

This led us to our first stop of the morning, and our first sighting of the Atlantic at St Hilaire de Riez. As Les Sables D'Olonnes is a major coastal resort, we decided that by following the coast as much as possible, we couldn't help but reach Les Sables. However, we had not anticipated what seemed like the migration of the majority of France's holdiaymakers to the region at the same time. Hordes of pedestrians and countless renaults, peugeots and citroens made the going extremely slow through the various coastal resorts that stood between St Hilaire and Les Sables.

First sighting of the Atlantic at Les Sables D'Olonnes

Nevertheless, despite a rising temperature, the terrain remained reasonably flat, and thus despite doing a few more miles than anticipated, and taking more time over them, we still arrived in Les Sables by early afternoon.The town is by far the largest we have visited thus far, and the amount of restaurants and bars would cater for the most extreme of tastes. This makes it all the more surprising then, that Dad managed to order the one dish that when faced with he hadn't a clue how to go about (see below). Making a complete mess of the crab, I did rather better with mussels - a speciality of the town - before we took a stroll around to get our bearings as we would be staying here for a couple of nights in roder to take a well earned rest, and enjoy some of the festivities that take place nationally to celebrate Bastille Day.

He might know his way round a cow, but seemingly has a lot to learn about crabs!

 After having had problems finding places open over the past few days, and passing through countless sizeable towns where nobody was to be found, we soon realised where everyone had been. The beachfront was saturated with crowds of families, couples and kids enjoying the sun (see below for evidence), covering every spare patch of sand going. We avoided wandering down to join them, and instead took refuge in a bar a little further away from all the action, around the adjacent marina . A good meal that evening was again washed down with a few beers in the 'Havana Bar', before getting the water taxi across back to the hotel. Today (Thursday) we have enjoyed something of a lie in, and have no plans to get the bikes out at all, instead exploring Les Sables some more, before heading to the seafront later on this evening to take in the live music etc. that is being put on as part of the Bastille Day celebrations.

Distance: 52.1 miles

Now we realised where everyone in France had been hiding.

Day 3: Redon to Bouin

When planning the trip, we had always known that day 3 would be one of the most trying days. With my profoundly detailed spreadsheets telling me we had 60 miles to do, we made sure get an early start from Redon, and hoped to cover a substantial amount of miles done before the midday sun made the going even tougher. It was something of an unwelcome surprise then, when we passed 60 miles for the day, with at least another 15 still to do in order to reach the small town of Bouin. Totalling over 75 miles on the day, this was a long day in the saddle, covering around 25 miles by canal on a slushy, sandy towpath, a car ferry across the mouth of the Loire river; and then a series of long straights into a headwind in order to reach Bouin.

A rather bleak day across the Loire river

Aboard the ferry crossing the Loire at Le Pellerin

Upon reaching Bouin at around 5pm, weary to say the least, we enjoyed a fantastic meal at the restaurant Le Martinet, adjoined to our hotel for the night Le Domaine de Martinet. After passing vineyards for the first time as we entered the Loire region from Brittany, and approaching the Atlantic, the menu began to consist of more and more seafood. The countryside had flattened considerably, and although increasing winds presented a new challenge, we hope to have now  left behind the hills of the past few days, and enjoy a less arduous ride along the coast as we approach Biarritz.

Distance: 75.4 miles   (almost 120km !)

Day 2: Bedee to Redon

 

Packed and ready to go...after an expensive water stop.

 

 

 

Setting off from Bedee at a slightly more humane hour than we had been forced to yesterday, with a decent continental breakfast to rely upon as fuel, we began the route from Bedee to the small city of Redee where we hoped we would not have the same problems we had in the ghost town Bedee. Hoaever, what hadn't changed was the nature of the road in front of us - some serious uphill struggles followed by some rapid descents (Dad claims to have beaten me with a top speed of 35.7mph to my 35.0mph, but his speedo is undoutebly faulty).

Unsuprisingly, it wasn't long, given the increasing temperature as well, that we were forced to stop and replenish our water reserves. At the only store in the small village of Monterfils at the summit of one ascent, we asked the lady serving for two bog standard glasses of water, which quickly became four, we were then presented with a bill for 5.60 euros. Dad claimed he would frame it, but refused to carry the excess baggage as there were some more arduous climbs to come.

A brief stop by the lake before yet another ascent...

...at the top of said ascent

Passing through some really beautiful countryside, and having lunched well in the small town of guer, our trip continued in fashion to how it had all morning, as we were confronted with hill after hill. During this period though, as we surpassed 30 miles travelled on the day, the termperature continued to soar. climbing through the 80s, then the 90s, eventually my speedometer indicated to me, around 3pm, that the temperature we were now struggling through had reached 100 °F (see below for proof). This obviously made progress increasingly difficult, and required ever more hydration wherever we could find it. As we approached Redon, Dad began to take on water at a rate unequalled even by the legendary Thomas Clay of Settle, who it is said can sup a stein of lager in 3.4 seconds, however with reports of this mythical character having taken himself off to New Zealand to challenge other's with this extraordinary talent, a face-off back in Yorkshire seems unlikely.

Arriving in Redon, we found the hotel for the night rather easily, and now sit in a bar updating this blog and uploading photographs. Tomorrow we head towards the coast where hopefully we will find some relief from the challenging terrain of the past couple of days.

Distance: 56.6 miles

The tour begins...

To our surprise, news seemed to have travelled around the North of England of our departure, and as a result we were greeted at Giggleswick station on Saturday morning by a group of fans eager to wish us well and wave us off, armed with paraphernalia more suited to a Royal Wedding or the last night at the Proms.

The train journey to Portsmouth went without a hitch, and we boarded the boat at 8.15 as planned. After taking in a dose of the rather dodgy entertainment on offer, we called it a night in readiness for an early start the next morning.

The captain of the ferry kindly woke us over the tannoy at the unearthly hour of 6am, to announce our imminent arrival into St Malo. With visions of a glorious beginning to the trip, rolling off the ferry and straight into an assured ride, the reality was rather less glamorous, as after pushing our bikes uphill into the ferry port, we were forced to stop less than 100m later and get the maps out. Nevertheless, after some brief detours taking in various parts of the St Malo area, we eventually found our path alongisde the river that would take us a considerable way towards Bedee, our destination that night.

However, the day would turn out to be one of two distinct halves. After tearing through the first 25 miles along the river bank, we decided that this was too easy, we'd reach Bedee too soon, and that instead we would extend our planned route to take in the city of Rennes. Well, roughly 10 miles into this doomed detour, we came across a signpost telling us we were on the route to Rennes, but that it was another 40 miles out of our way, as opposed to the 10 or 12 we had thought. Needless to say, despite Dad's utmost protestations that this was doable, we decided to replan, and save Rennes for another time.

The second half of the day, now we had left the river, was characterised by a series of long uphill struggles, followed by an all too brief period of downhill relief. Dad seemed to have been watching a little too much of 'la Tour' and began to frequently draw comparisons between his ability on a bike and that of now 17 time stage winner Mark Cavendish. The next 15 miles of undulating terrain were a far cry from the earlier flatness of the morning stint. It was then, with great relief that we arrived in Bedee after around 4.5 hours of cycling. Craving some liquid refreshment, to say Bedee was a disappointment would be as gross an exaggeration as Dad had previoulsy been guilty of with his comparisons to Cavendish. In a town of over 4000, not one solitary store was open, including the hotel bar and restaurant. Nevertheless, our disappointment was lifted somewhat after stumbling upon a lady unlocking the door to a bar next door. We then discovered that we needn't starve either, as a restaurant was soon to open also. The day ended with a sizeable cote de beouf for dinner, and some excellent Bordeaux red. After a successful first stint, it was then an earlyish night to recharge for tomorrows pursuits.

Distance: 54.4 miles

Eventful training ride!

After having ridden over 600 miles between us both, on separate training rides, coming together for the first time seems to have been something of a jinx! After setting off in the evening sunshine on Monday to complete a 25 mile loop through Wigglesworth, Rathmell and onto the Forest of Bowland, the first 10 miles or so were completed without a hitch.

However a short while after this, whilst on the road, one of Dad's water bottles fell out. He stopped fairly sharply, which brought the car behind him to a halt, and causing me to brake hard to avoid the car that had stopped between us! In this process, I picked up a puncture somehow, as within 30 seconds my rear tyre was completely flat. Having stopped by the side of the road to attempt to repair the puncture, whilst taking his foot out of the pedals, managed to kick the rear derailleur, and slice open the inside of his ankle!

Having managed to repair my flat tyre, we decided the best thing to do, given the doomed nature of the evening thus far, was to turn around and take the shortest route home before dad's ankle got any worse, or my tyre decided to fail again. Upon arriving home, Dad managed to get his ankle treated, however a few trips to the nurse this week have been required to ensure that it is given the best chance to heal before departing on Saturday.

Needless to say, although we managed to laugh about it, this raised serious concerns about what we were taking on! The last few days have seen a few more trips to the local bike shop in Settle (http://www.3peakscycles.com/) where we have been given a great deal of help and advice in our preparations for the trip.

Due to the storm like climate currently residing around Giggleswick, and the matter of Dad's ankle, we haven't managed to get out again since Monday, instead devoting more time to finalising the route, our kit, and the condition of our bikes.

Planning a train journey from Giggleswick to Portsmouth on Saturday has proved to be a stern test of our logistical capabilities. Needing to reserve spaces for our bikes on a journey including 4 changes and 4 different service providers has not been easy, though with a little luck we should make it down to the Ferry on Saturday evening after 9 hours on the train.

So after a slight hiccup, all still looks well for the trip to go ahead, though our first aid kit may be loaded with a few more supplies than previously anticipated. I'll try in the next few days to get photos of our bikes and kit, as we begin to pack our panniers.

Donating

If you haven't been able to do so already, please click on the link below and donate what you can to help us reach our target of £5000, with all funds going to Caring For Life.

http://www.justgiving.com/Gavin-Davidson

Jack

First Post!

5 days to go, and tonight we will be embarking on the first joint training ride. The plan is to take a 23 mile route around the Forest of Bowland, which Dad has done countless times already whilst I've still been at university. He seems to have been taking training a little (make that a lot) more seriously than I have, and so it remains to be seen who is the most prepared for the journey ahead.

Having prepared the bikes, planned the route and booked transport and accommodation, it only remains to finalise what we need to take with us, pack the panniers, and learn a little French (having attempted to book some rooms over the phone, GCSE French has not come back to me as easily as I thought it might!).

Both of us thought that a blog would be an ideal way of letting friends and family at home know how we're getting on, and act as a means of remembering the trip in the future. As preparations move into the final stage, I'll be sure to write again soon with updates on how things are progressing, the results of tonight's training ride, and any problems we will no doubt encounter along the way!

Jack