A Little Ditty About Dan & Diane’s  (Dan Driscoll, PBP, Aug 03)

2003 Paris to Brest and Back (PBP)

It all started in the fall of 1999 shortly after I had completed my first PBP. I met a cute girl named Diane. She had never ridden 100 miles before, but wanted to try. Well that first weekend we did back to back 100-mile rides and followed that up with another and another… till we had 5 consecutive weekends of back-to-back centuries, 10 centuries 1,000 miles in 5 weeks, she was hooked.

As the RUSA RBA (Regional Brevet Administrator) for the North Texas Area, we scheduled and ran the qualifying Brevets from 1999 to present. The advantage being, that we are expected to be at every brevet, wind, rain, snow, sleet, hail, or just HOT! We have managed to earn a Super Randonneur medal every year by completing a full series of Brevets, this includes a 200K, 300K, 400K, and a 600K. In 2001 we even did two full sets of Brevets, one in the spring and one in the fall and thus became Double Super Randonneurs.

Our PBP commitment started late 2002 November we had airplane and hotel reservations, not knowing that the future would deal us a challenging hand. I lost my mother and my best friend “Donnie”. Diane had a major surgery. Despite the additional challenges we were still going to PBP. Just to make sure the 1200K (750 + Miles) of hilly French roads would not be to easy we spent a week in France walking around Pairs, tasting French wines and even a three day self contained bike tour to Fontainebleau, France.

The big ride was getting close. Last minute rearranging and we sent two “drop bags” ahead. We would be allowed to access each bag once on the way to Brest and once on the way back. The bag drops were about 150 miles apart, the contents of our bags included tools, spare parts, Power Bars, Gatorade Powder, and clean clothing, but no pillows.

Our plan had always been to use up most of the allotted 90-hours despite my temptation to ride with a group of faster Lone Star Randonneurs and share the advantage of less time in the saddle. It is 10:00 p.m. Monday night and it was dark. We had passed bike inspection, checked our lights and were in line to start PBP 2003. Show Time!

I can not describe the pumping adrenaline of riding in the dark though small French towns at 20 + miles an hour with Diane, Russell Kelly and Mark Wooldridge. It was such a rush I had to yell out loud. As we topped a hill, we could see miles of red taillights ahead, highlighting the profile of the hilly, winding route. We were released in 500-rider “waves”, with over 4000 riders on the course at one time. Less than 100-miles into the ride I dropped the chain off my front chain ring and it tangled up into a knot. I was devastated no matter how hard I pulled and twisted I could not release the chain. It was still dark and although I had two helmet mounted lights, all I could see is that my PBP dream had become a nightmare. Two French officials stopped and accessed the situation then left, I was hoping they had gone to get a tool that would remove the cranks and free the chain. Diane had talked me into walking down the hill to a street light. Now rather than brute strength I used finesse and reading glasses to see and free the chain and we were back on the road. An hour was a minor setback compared to a DNF due to a mechanical.

Diane did not want this ride to be to easy for me so she presented my next challenge. At the top of each hill I would say “Marco” and she would reply “I’m right behind you silly.” We were riding in a group and when I did not hear a response, I would ease out of the pack to the left and stop on the side of the road to wait, but this time I looked and looked, no Diane! Finally I rode down the hill to the last spot I had heard from her, still no Diane. I figured out that she had slipped past me as I was easing out of the pack, so I sped ahead to catch her. Diane enjoyed this so much she played this “hide-and-seek” game several more times before the ride was over.

In 1999 I rode between controls without stopping, then ate large meals at each control, often spending huge amounts of time off the bike waiting in food lines. After this big meal I would feel tired, cold, sleepy and slow for an hour while the food digested, then feel fantastically fast and strong for a couple of hours then bonk right before the next control (food stop).

This time we had a different plan we were going to eat our way through France. Diane became the “Jambon Queen.” There are no 7-11’s in France, but every town has a bar, and most bars would make you a Jambon (sandwich) and stout coffee. A Jambon is an extremely hard piece of long white bread with huge chunks of butter and a small thin piece of ham and sometimes boiled eggs, pickles, pasta and almost anything else. We stopped at least once at difference bars between each control to replenish our Jambon supplies. The Jambon were like a box of Cracker-Jack’s, you knew what you were getting outside but inside was often a surprise.  After daybreak the first day, Diane expressed her distaste for riding with groups, and said “if you were a real stud you could pull me the next 600-miles, no problem”. Having almost crashed descending at 25-mph in the dark when I ran over someone’s light that had fallen off their bike, and then recived a flat from running over other bike debris, I agreed. So we plotted along just the two of us. We were doing about 17-mph on the flats, problem was there were no flat spots, only hills.

We were now about 24-hours into the ride and at the “black hole control” where space, and especially time, is lost. This control is called Loudeac, many people sleep and eat here. It was crowded and I reluctantly agreed to eat, but not to sleep till the next control, Carhaix. It took us over 3 hours to sign in, refill our supplies from our drop bags and eat! We had picked up Jamie Burns a fellow Lone Star Randonneur several miles before Loudeac and he waited for us to get out of the Black hole. The 3 of us left together.

Shortly after, I realized I was over dressed and needed to stop and shed some clothing. As I sat in the middle of the road and removed my tights (it was dark) a concerned French lady who thought I had fallen asleep and crashed, wanted us all to come into her house and have a few drinks and take a nap. Jamie politely declined, although I was certain he would have liked to indulge her.

Jamie was a true Randonneur he carried all his provisions (no drop bag) and he knew how to improvise.  When it got cold, he dug in the trash and found a bag to put on his head, he stuffed his space blanket under his jersey and put his extra socks on his hands. Jamie drank beer at the controls, when I questioned him about the wisdom of this, he replied, “the French have been doing it for years, seems to work for them”.

Soon after Loudeac, Jim Solonic, (x-Florida RBA) and a female Canadian rider joined us. They had done the 84-hour start 6-hours after us and had caught us. They were happy to have the benefit of my lights and we were happy for the company, until we found another Coffee shop, we stopped to fill our water bottles up with coffee for the long night ahead, Jim and company pressed on.

Next was our 1st “Secret Control”. Jamie was drawn to the snoring riders that were comfortably sleeping on the warm floor, and asked about a short sleep break. Being the slave master, I said “no not till Carhaix”, another 30-miles. Shortly after that Diane could not stay awake, falling asleep on the bike. It was mutiny. I asked Diane to take a PowerGel double shot (caffeine), she said “I already had two”. We were only 18 miles from Carhaix, so close. We pulled over in a small town and checked the doors on the local church “locked”.  So we pulled out our space blanket sleeping bags and tried to sleep. Bad idea, we were wet from sweat and our space bags became swimming pools. It was cold, so we pulled the bags over our heads, only to wake up out of breath, we were suffocating, freezing and stayed way to long. A power nap without the space bags would have been a better choice. I forgot to set my digital egg timer alarm clock and was finally awaken by the sun. Jamie must have slept the best and Diane the worst. I had told Jamie and Diane that part of the PBP experience included sleeping on the side of the road, they both agreed they were glad that requirement was behind them. We were shivering but mounted our steeds. Whoo, a bar, dismount coffee time, some petite and some Grande coffee(s). Back on the steeds for another block, now it was a Pastry Shop, three of these and three of those and… We were now on the road, next stop, except for my second flat, Carhaix.

At Carhaix Diane stated that “the pace was a little fast” and “I was pushing her a little to hard” and “that this was starting to not be the fun ride I had promised her”. She asked me “if I wanted to go on without her, so I could ride as fast as I wanted.” My goal for PBP 2003 was simple, it was for Diane and I to be official finishers, to have fun and to still have a relationship when we finished, so my answer was “HECK NO!”   It would have been a failure, if both of us did not finish happy! Diane took a quick nap and then we were on the road to Brest, happy as two pigs in stink, enjoying the clear sunny cool day.

The nap did wonders for Diane, we were having big fun, stopping on the side of the road to eat our Jambon’s and enjoying the beautiful scenery. We both agreed that Carhaix to Brest and back was the most scenic part of the ride, partly because it was daylight and we could actually see it. We stopped for some pictures at the suspension bridge, another Jambon from a bar and a quick in and out at the Brest Control. We left Brest with Mike and Nancy Myers flying by us on their tandem. Everything was different now, each mile we rode made us 1 mile closer to the barn.

As we left Carhaix (now heading twords Paris) it was getting dark. Diane was worried about this stretch especially in the dark again, this was the same section that threw us so far behind on the way out, because we had over slept at the church. We must have been eating and drinking properly because we did quite well on this stretch and arrived in Loudeac with enough time in the bank for a nap.

“The Black Hole of Loudeac again.” We decided to sleep on rent-a-cots. For a couple of Euro’s you get a cot (not together) and they wake you up at your requested time. This also, is required for all first time PBP’ers. As you are escorted to your cot, with fuzzy WW1 army issue Blankets, the snoring is incredible, every octave imaginable and just when you think the snoring couldn’t get any louder a few more chime in, I started laughing. You swear you will not be able to sleep, but in a few minutes you are snoring with the best of them, then the French man (alarm) comes to wake you. We left Loudeac at just about the official closing of the control (no extra time in the bank).

A new day, it was about 6:30 am and very cold for a Texan. There was a thick fog that lay close to the ground but the sky overhead was clear, very surrealistic, and enjoyable. Between stopping at the second Secret Control and some putzing around we used all of the allowed time to get to the next control, again no extra time in the bank, but we were revived and ready to ride. We were getting back to our plan of Power Bars, Met-Rx Bars, PowerGels, and Gatorade and of course don’t forget Jambon’s. We breezed through the next two controls and even saw Johnny Bertrand. We played in a few raindeer games (Sprints) and in general had much fun. We discovered that in correct doses Coke-a-Cola and Jambon’s were more like rocket fuel than human food, but this rocket fuel would only last for a short while before we would need a recharge. When we would start to feel a low spot coming on, we would dismount, sit on the side of the road and wave to the other riders, while eating our Jambon’s and drinking. We were approaching the last bag drop, which meant about 150 miles left to go. It was still daylight, which was nice because it made sifting though our “drop bags” much easier. I was very happy to see the Brackbill’s (the New Mexico contingent) of the Lone Star Randonneurs, they were in good spirits. I had broken a rear derailleur cable on my bike and had gone to find a bike shop.  Diane said she was going to the bathroom and would be right back. 1-1/2 hours later the bike was supposedly fixed but no sign of Diane. I had figured, she had fallen asleep somewhere on the way back from the bathroom, but where? This was the toughest hide-and-seek yet! After covering the entire campus twice, I enlisted the help of the RUSA bag drop personal, still no Diane. We had to ride through the night to reach the next control before 6:30 am or we were out of the game. Were was she? Here she came, finally! She had laid her head down on the table in the cafeteria, and fallen asleep, I did not see her because I was looking for an upright person. We were cutting it a little close.

Our challenge now was to stay awake and ride through another night (our fourth in a row) to the next control before 6:30 am. About 20 miles out we found a bar just closing and got a couple of bowls of Coffee Grande.  It was 1:00 am and most bars closed at 2:00 am, we knew we would need more caffeine to get us to the next control, what were we going to do? How would we make it? The French volunteers that’s how! First there was a French man handing out water, we stopped, “no water” we said, “We need Caffeine”, he replied “no coffee,” I asked “Coca-Cola”? He went to his car rummaged around and returned with a litter of Coke and filled both of our water bottles, WOW! As we left he called Diane, “the lion”. Another 15 miles up the road the Coke was about gone and we were fading as we topped a hill, was it a marriage? No! It was more French volunteers on the side of the road handing out coffee and cake, SO COOL! Things were going to good so I decided to have another flat, my third. Not a big deal except it was dark, we were tired and it was damn cold for a big Texas weenie, so what should have taken me 10 minutes took about an hour. As we were shivering and begging for some hills to warm up on, I heard a refreshing voice that I recognized, it was our own Lone Star Kay-O and Jeff. She asked the rough road to go away, about a 1/4-mile later it was smooth as glass, still not sure how she did that.

At each control Diane would ask me when we were going to sleep, or take a shower? I would always reply with the same answer “at the next control, baby”. Well she reminded me this was the next control so we agreed that she would take a 30-minute power nap while I filled bottles and bought food. “Where will I sleep” she asked? I answered, “See that space on the concrete floor between those two guys that are snoring,” she said “yeah”, that must be a good spot it is working well for them. When she awoke we ate and it was back on the road. But not before I witnessed an incredible drama, it was a young girl waiving her control card high in the air, running into the cafeteria with tears flying from her eyes yelling, “where is the control?” You see it was 6:30 and if she missed just one control time, her ride thus far would have been all for naught. At this point I realized how lucky I was to be at the back of the pack with the people who were just squeaking by, like Diane and myself. At the beginning of the ride, all the talk was all about how we would get in front of the masses and avoid long lines. Well we were not in front, but we had smaller and smaller lines at each control to contend with, as we got closer and closer to the tail of the ride.

Leaving this control at daybreak with about 100-miles to go. It was cold, but we had a good climb to warm us up, but then the decent, I was shaking cold. It was about this time that I hit my lowest low. In hind site too much coffee and Coke and not enough food and Gatorade. I was dehydrated, calorie depleted and too sleepy to stay upright on the bike, not to mention sick to my stomach. Diane moved to the front and proceeded to pull me for the next hour or so, while I tried to pieced myself back together. At one point I was yelling Christmas Carols at the top of my lungs to stay awake, as I downed Gatorade and PowerGels. There were bodies all over the side of the road in space blankets, I could tell I was felling better cause I started yelling at motionless silver wrapped bodies “wake up and get on your bikes, you have a ride to finish”.

Whatever I did worked because when I came around it was for the rest of the ride. We picked up the pace to 22 mph all the way to the last control. Some quick socializing then it was back on the bike to Paris. We rode strong and fast all the way to the finish. The lap around the final “round about” at the finish line had so many spectators applauding, I decided to make a second lap. We even sprinted from most of the stoplights in the final miles only to arrive at the soccer field and chitchat for 15 minutes before signing in, and we still had a couple hours to spare. A little more socializing and it was time to ride back to the hotel, so Diane could get that shower I had been promising her for the last 4 days. Life was good, no life was GREAT! We had accomplished all our goals! Diane had just ordered room service including 4 full meals, 3 deserts, a bottle of wine and a bottle of Champaign.

To me PBP was a once in a life time experience, even though I’ve been lucky enough to have done it twice. No country in the world loves the Bike like France. Their were literally thousands of French people along the road side, all day and most of the night. They would yell “Bon Courage” (Have Courage) and they would smile and clap. I will never forget the little girl who stopped Diane and I in front of a bar and asked for our autographs, or the little boy that gave us water and a bag of trail mix, but would not except any money. Diane thought it was funny that in the beginning, I tried to be Frenchish and shouted out “Bon Jour” to the people on the side of the road. Some would chuckle knowing that it was not a French accent, but all were kind. As the ride progressed my Bon Jour’s slowly turned to “Howdy”. I even got to see God, my mother and my best friend Donnie while riding ( I was doing PBP in their honor ). At first I wondered why they were all in France, then I realized they were having fun too, and watching over me, making sure I finished safely. When all is said and done I am proudest of Diane and the rest of the Lone Star Randonneurs who attempted this great ride.



WE HAD FUN!!



Thank you and until next time… Happy Trails,



Dan Driscoll