TCRno4s136: Entering the time warp, the first 24 hours

Night/day one

My route took me through the night to Laon. Time flew, literally within what seemed like minutes hours had passed. The roads were good and quiet. During the course of the night I met a few fellow cyclists who evidently had similar routes, we would generally chat for a bit before going our separate ways (or speeds). It was nice to see lights in the distance of a fellow TCRer, or a plastic wrapped TCR rider having a kip. There was one occasion where I saw a rider going the opposite direction, I’m still not sure who was going the wrong way. The only (definite) wrong turn I took was after a brief chat with the TCR Volvo early on, in the excitement of the distraction I stopped looking at Prof calculus…


I was pretty disciplined with eating and drinking through the night, making an effort to take on something every 10-15 miles, to try and ensure that I kept my fuel supplies, preventing fatigue for as long as possible. I am not entirely sure when Belgium became France, benefit of being an EU member in an open border Europe is that is doesn’t really matter (ironic lol).

At some point I had my first dog chase, luckily I was faster. About 3am I had a stop, put on an extra layer. Waved at a pair who passed. As daylight broke I was approaching Laon, everything was still beautifully flat. I eased off a bit for a cruise into the city hoping to sync my arrival with the opening of a boulangerie , as I rode into Laon I was approached by two local cyclists who were out to welcome weary TCR riders to their home town, they rode with me to the local bread stop, (although I probably could have followed my nose (mmmm fresh bread!) where I found coffee and fresh baguettes which I used to make egg sandwiches with some of the 6 eggs I had brought with me from London (protein is important too).


At the time of breakfast, I had made good progress and was in the front half of riders (ish- un exact calculation based on dot cluster). I was feeling pretty good so got back on the bike, with the aim of reaching Toucy (156 miles away) by bed time. I then rode up the hill to the Cathedral, not the road to Toucy. I then did a tour of Laon’s suburbs, which were also not the road to Toucy. I finally started climbing the correct hill out of Laon, this was the road to Toucy,  and noticed a bush that looked like it would be a great place to sleep.  About 90 minutes later, 3 and half hours after arriving in Laon, I emerged from Bush, to continue the ride.  Not the plan, but that was ok, I knew there would be lots of times over the next few weeks where plan B would be used. Although, admittedly I didn’t realise how far down the alphabet I would get.


Day one; part two, Laon to…


Following on from Bush nap, I was feeling groggy but it didn’t take long to wake up. It was a beautiful day, a beautiful road, golden stubble fields, grass verges, blue skies, rolling hills and other cyclists. Basically exactly how the guidebooks describe cycling in France. The rest of the day is a bit of a corn coloured blur. Cycling seemed easy some of the time, slow some of the time. I must have stopped a few times to make some more egg sandwiches using the baguette and eggs I had with me, also snacking on mum’s flapjack.


I stopped in a tiny village, Dravegny, around lunch time, it wasn’t a scheduled stop, I think it was a subconscious controlled you should drink some coffee now stop. It was a tiny bar, essentially in the living room of an elderly couple. The bar was dark, cool, decorated with a random assortment of crockery; the sort of thing you would expect to see described as “quirky” “eccentric” or “hip” if it was in Shoreditch, London.  In this case it was functional. I ordered what would become my normal order, a large glass of milk, large glass of water, a large coke and two short coffees. I then used my head torch to go to the toilet because I couldn’t find the light switch and the couple had, clearly coming to the conclusion that although odd I was trustworthy, had disappeared into the rest of their house. By the time I left there were a few onlookers, who seemed a bit bemused by this lone cyclist with a bread role and some eggs strapped to her bike. I’m not sure, but I don’t think this particular part of my route was used by many other riders. I got the feeling this village wasn’t one frequented by non-locals very often, it was lovely though.

I carried on for a few more hours stopping just before Chateau Thierry to have lunch, about 2.30.   In broken French I tried to explain the bike race to the patrons who were interested in where I was going and surprised by the size of my food order. While I was eating a local cyclist popped in, after seeing my bike, to have a chat. He had been in the town watching the other riders and was a TCR fan. He explained the TCR in better French to the patrons, who to be honest looked even more confused and disbelieving having heard what I was doing from a native French speaker. I was pleasantly surprised to hear that there were a lot of riders in the town as I hadn’t made great time over the past few hours. I rode through Chateau Thierry, which looks like a lovely spot to stop in, and out over the river Marne, which looked like a lovely spot for a swim. Given that I was behind schedule I reluctantly rode past without a swim.

Some more corn fields, some sunflowers, blue skies, combine harvesters, hard boiled eggs and flapjack crumbs later I arrived in Provins. This was a nice moment. Provins is pretty. It is somewhere I can’t remember going before. It is somewhere I remember plotting my route through to have a look at. So I stopped, took a photo, appreciated the old cobbled town and mentally added it to the list of places to come back to, to drink wine and relax in, in the future. Although these little “appreciate the moment”/beauty stops plotted into my route added time to my journey and contributed to the slower than hoped finish, they probably also contributed to me being able to finish as were physical and mental breaks.


Back on the bike once more I decided to ride as far as the next town and find a bed for the night and some food.  Before too long I found a hotel/restaurant, unfortunately it was closed, as were the next two (one of which on closer inspection was just a closed restaurant).  I stopped and asked a man, he shook his head, “l’hotel?  Non, ils sont tous ferme”

“où est le prochain hôtel?”  looking bemused he replied,“je ne sais pas. Ou allez-vous?”

“à la Turquie”

“oh” “non, je ne sais pas”.

I carried on riding, slightly nervous that I had just left a town with some horrendous recent history, perhaps a zombie apocalypse? Why else had all the hotels shut? It was July. In reality, I had stopped in the small commune of Pont-sur-Yonne close to both Provins and Sens both with surplus accommodation options.  If I had thought this through a little better I would have powered on to Sens rather than faffing around. Indeed, before too long (though by this time it was close to 10pm) I arrived in Sens and found a hotel. The restaurant had shut but some people at the bar offered me half a left over pizza, I devoured, along with flapjack crumbs, an egg, some milk, and a beer.  Looking back, I feel like this was much further into the ride than a mere 24 hours. Riding the Transcontinental is a bit like being in a time warp.




TCRno4s136: The Start, Apidura bags are go!

TCRno4s136: The Start, Apidura bags are go! 


The square was buzzing with cyclist clad Apidura bags; a mix of sizes, shapes, ages, both Apiduras and cyclists. As a newbie to the world of ultra-endurance cycling it was nice to see the diversity of people taking on this challenge. Already, from interactions on the journey to Geraardsbergen, the registration, briefing and final supper it was clear this was a random bunch of friendly people drawn together by a single combined factor, the desire to ride across Europe, alone as fast as possible. This was probably more reassuring for Mum, who had travelled with me from London, armed with homemade flapjack, most of M&S’s picnic section and a pretty extensive first aid kit. Post ride I was to find out that she had spent the hours after the send-off in a pub with a fellow TCR rider’s spouse and that accompanying me had indeed helped.

My hours preceding the race were spent with some slightly hectic last min prep, meeting other riders, a final feast, some more slightly more frantic last minute prep, rushed good byes and of course attempts to capture the event on film. I was lucky to spend the final supper with fellow Chevs rider Z, and the soon to be (relatively speaking) female race winner Emily Chapell. Emily and mum swapped flapjack for a book, so mums flapjack evidently is the fuel of champions.

At some time after dark the Mayor’s bell was rung, signalling the start of the race.  We set off across the square, past the flame bearing supporters; I concentrated on navigating the cobbles and crowds as a tactic to avoid crying at the start, it was all a bit overwhelming, in a good way, an emotional overload. The starting lap of the muur was sociable, easy pedalling, chatting to other riders a few of whom I had interacted with via twitter pre-race, twitter profiles are people too. The climb was a little hairy; I was glad to be at the back as it was narrow, bumpy, crowded and lined with flaming torches, with a few wobbles and the agility of a mountain ox I made it up; alive and smiling.

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Within minutes of the Muur descent, after pausing for the obligatory map check stop on the corner, I set off. For about 10 minutes I was in a bunch of cyclists, then my Garmin, prof Calculus, directed me to take a left turn and  I was solo, one girl and her bike taking on the world, well kind of.






Sponsorship & Primal Europe, my thoughts

Today I finally got to meet the people behind the brand at Primal Europe. Lead by James Smith and wife Judith, this family run business based in Plymouth represent the European arm of Primal cycling apparel that was kind/mad enough to sponsor my Transcontinental Race, in the process becoming valued contributors and supporters. I arrived by bike, riding over Dartmoor from Dorset a route I would certainly recommend.

Daisy, Top Dog at Primal Europe HQ

I was welcomed with a tea, a tour and an introduction to the Primal Europe crew, the majority of whom have grown within the company through local apprenticeship schemes, as well as office cockapoo, Daisy.  It was good to chat TCR, bikes, kit, Pokémon & politics in person, as well as see the work (and boxes of kit) behind the predominantly online merchandisers who, unsurprisingly, appear to be growing in popularity.

Sponsorship was something that a few people had mentioned I should try and get, especially those who had seen the state of my personal cycling apparel collection. One of the guys at the Chevaliers (London based bike club I ride with), had tried to start the trend #inthiskit, an endearing (I think) # surmising the contrast between my cycling style and attitude, to the many “all the gear and no idea” riders out there. I still didn’t really have that much of an idea, but I was probably going to push boundaries a bit further than the average lycra junkie touring the surrey hills even if I looked like I had got dressed in the dark with a selection of lost property/unwanted kit.

My relationship with Primal Europe began with an uncharacteristically bold tweet which was picked up by Managing Director, James, in the build up to the race. Prompted by a notification that Primal Europe were following me on Twitter, I looked at their website. I was instantly drawn to the vibrancy, the colours and the focus on an inclusive, adventurous spirit, spanning “weekend warriors” to “serious athletes” with the emphasis on fun. I mean this is why we ride, right? We enjoy it. Even better the kit was colourful, different, abstract and in stark contrast with the rules of the “Velominati” as Primal Europe offer a variety of non-black cycling shorts. High on life, excited by what was to come and feeling brave I threw caution to the wind and DM’d Primal Europe’s twitter account. I wasn’t really sure what to expect or what to ask for. I think I kept it rather vague to start with. James had heard of TCR, and it interested him. I think  this and a good degree of luck opened the door for me. We then had a bit of an email exchange, as James and the Primal Europe team were interested to know what chance I actually had of finishing the race and sent though a few questions. Me, being the mildly obsessive, occasional overachiever, probably spent a bit more time crafting a response than others may have done. This evidently was a good approach, giving James the answers he wanted, or at least were good enough to give me a chance. As a result, within 48 hours I had gone from sending a speculative twitter message to being a sponsored athlete (kind of). Boom!  In actual fact, the process of sitting down and going through the questions James raised was actually really helpful for me as race prep, to identify where I was at, where I needed to be and where my gaps were. It certainly gave a bit more focus to the final few weeks. It also formed my first blog for Primal Europe, along with a prologue on the race by the Primal Europe team which can also be seen on their Tumblr page.

After the written Q&As, actually possibly in the same email, he is pretty direct, James proposed some terms, which were in good alignment with what I had hoped for in my pedally day dream scenario, ultimately they would swap kit for pictures, a few blogs and social media content. It was agreed that during the run up to the race and the TCR itself I would do daily pictures/ videos for Primal Europe’s Instagram as well as a few Facebook “live chats”. While James sorted this and worked with me and the media team to get the first blog live, Judith and the warehouse team were quick off the mark to talk me through the kit they had in, advise me on what I might benefit from and send kit through to me. Within a few days I was wearing new primal kit- #inthiskit had a whole new meaning.


Those that followed me during the race may have seen my media was a little intermittent, not quite daily, I had certainly had expected to chat/video more than I did. From a practical perspective, media sharing was limited on some occasions by logistics, battery life was an issue, my power plan (dynamo/battery pack combo) didn’t quite work as planned. Secondly, this was ultimately a race, even at my pace, so on days where concentration and speed was low, stopping to take pictures was a distraction I tried to avoid. Thirdly, sometimes I was grumpy. Although Instagram mainly showed me smiling from some beautiful locations looking pretty happy with bikelife, some, unquantified amount of the time, I wasn’t, or simply lacked the emotional strength to broadcast. In these dark hours (often literally), I did take some pictures/videos yet luckily recognised that I was portraying a negative, teary, over dramatic grump, seeking sympathy (a few of these did make it out, ie the “dog kennel” video from Montenegro, CP4).  On my own, or in the company of those privileged enough to be close to me, I can be cranky and miserable, however I can pedal my way out of a self-pity sulk much better on my own than in company and I think that applies to the company of social media. I also didn’t want to be remembered for, or focus on the low moments, they were certainly part of the experience but in context, they weren’t that bad, really. That said, I did use the #stillsmiling progressively less. It is both good and surprising to hear how so many of those following had no idea how close I was riding to the scratch line, I don’t think I would have stepped over, but I was certainly close to falling at least. Perhaps I have begun to master the art of media manipulation.

I thought i was smiling when i took this, evidently  not



As a result, I didn’t post as much as I’d planned for Primal Europe. I was lucky that James and the Primal Europe team were very laid back. James, previously in the armed forces, ex pro-rider and TCR fan probably had a better idea of what I was letting myself into than I did. He had expected things not to go to plan, something he shared after the event, obviously.  Throughout the TCR, it was clear that my race and wellbeing were always at the forefront of everything, rather than media goals which I really appreciated.  James, Judith and the rest of the Primal Europe team gave great support to the ride as did those following my social media posts through their platform. Sharing the experience definitely made it more fun. I don’t know that all sponsors would be so laid back, although I suppose if you are sponsoring something as unpredictable as the TCR I suppose you should expect things to not go to plan.  After meeting them all today I’m definitely keen to keep the relationship going, not only because I love the kit, but I like what they seem to be building, a local business, in a European market, part of a global organisation, focused around a love of adventure, the outdoors and cycling.  The Primal Europe kit and brand seem to empower its wearers to define their own style and be their own cool. I like that,  #inthiskit.

PS: Primal Europe are having a warehouse sale this weekend, at HQ in Plymouth check it out if your about.  Primal Europe Warehouse Clearance 13th -16th October

Primal Europe prepping for their Warehouse Sale

PPS: Strava Link to my route, I’d recommend riding it, although perhaps starting from somewhere less random than Whitchurch Canonicorum, maybe Mortonhampstead or Exeter.


Beautiful riding across dartmoor to Primal Europe HQ



Also, I have finally put together some pictures and some words on my TCR, which I have posted on Primal Europe’s Tumblr Blog Page #Happy trails, check it out.