Christopher Clarke's Pedal to Paris 2009
Was it the appeal of the Poppy, the sweet-talk of two cycling enthusiast friends, the sense at 64 of needing a physical challenge to balance more cerebral activity or just the thought of being able to tell my future grandchildren that their grandfather had done it and what's more, had cycled up one of the great avenues in the world to arrive at the Arc de Triomphe with a motorcycle escort for our own special ceremony?
Whatever, it matters little! But as a non-cyclist, after many a gruelling session in the gym and many a weekend cycling the roads around Windlesham, as well as through Berkshire and Hampshire, I recently completed a 300 mile trip from London to Paris over four days to raise money for The Royal British Legion.
Reality only dawned on what I had committed to when I arrived at Greenwich Observatory at 6.30am on the first morning to find a chaotic army of other cyclists, each preparing either themselves or their bikes for the start. After depositing our overnight bags, a few words of encouragement and a disorderly group photograph, we were off, accompanied by motorcycle outriders and local police on bicycles! Never before had I found myself swept along in a peloton of closely grouped cyclists though it was not long before we stretched out into a series of sub-groups and lone riders.
It was not until our first pit-stop that I realised the importance of our support group. Entering a school off the A20 through a sea of scattered bicycles, our three masseurs were already pummelling aching bodies; energy boosting food and drink was laid out for the taking; and skilled mechanics were hard at work on cycles already needing attention, including my own gears. Their ‘temporary fix’ took me the whole way to Paris.
After a subsequent lunch-stop, our next destination was Dover but not until we had scaled the demanding Shakespeare's Hill to cross the Downs but what ecstatic joy to get to the top and roar down the other side to the town centre. Thence the ferry, where I observed for the first time that our group of 180 characterised all sorts and conditions of men and women, ranging in age from 16 to 72, but more particularly from the apparently lean and fit to those not obviously either used to cycling or naturally built for it!
After spending the night in Calais, Day Two started early with a formal ceremony at the War Memorial. An imposing group of French veterans and Royal British Legion representatives, each with their medals, led an impressively moving ceremony which mirrored our own here in Windlesham every Remembrance Sunday. The Mayor and the Royal British Legion each laid a wreath and made a short speech and we sang the Marseillaise and the National Anthem with accompanying music. Calais is, of course, the regional capital for the First World War battlefields, adding a special poignancy. We had similar ceremonies on subsequent days, including an extra one on Day Three in a small 500 strong village liberated by the British in 1944 which they have never forgotten, inviting the Legion to return every year.
Cycling through France, we were divided into three groups – fast, medium and slow. I had no idea where to put myself so chose the second but when faced with an hour's wait in the cold and wet in Calais, I set off with the slow group, only to find, stragglers apart, it was far from slow. By the end, it had grown substantially, becoming the 'social' group! Day Two to Abbeville made the previous day seem a doddle. While only slightly longer (84 miles versus 82), there were several exhausting long hills interspersed with some shorter but steeper ones and strong winds.
The 69 miles to Beauvais on Day Three felt easier, partly as we knew we were 'getting there'. After another inspiring ceremony, we rode up the hill to the Fire Station where we not only parked our bikes for the night but were graciously entertained at a drinks party. Imagine Health and Safety consenting to doing either here!
From lunchtime on the fourth and final day, entering Paris, we rode as a single peloton, escorted by motorcycles which blocked off every road as we passed; the only other group to be afforded this privilege is the Tour de France. Our arrival was marked by a particularly moving ceremony alongside the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier with the laying of a large wreath of poppies by Lt Gen Sir John Kiszely, the President of The Royal British Legion, and another by his French counterpart, to the accompaniment of a military band.
I can say without reservation that the whole four days were an unforgettable experience. Leaving aside the satisfaction of getting there in one piece (partly thanks to essential training and support) and being amongst such a diverse group of people, everyone with their own motives for participating, it was wonderful to be at each of the ceremonies and share the heartfelt support of the many French who took part. I was also struck by how many people of all ages responded to my request for donations, often remarking how important they regard the continuing role of The Royal British Legion in current circumstances. Just over 70 years since World War Two began and against a background of continuing conflict in Iraq and Afghanistan, I felt proud to have supported such a deserving cause.
Christopher Clarke
October 2009
