A long road to Paris-Brest-Paris

L-R: Wayne Phillips, John Hathaway, Gerry Pareja and Dan McGuire Photo: Harold Bridge (click to enlarge)

With less than a month until up to 6,000 cyclists embark on the 17th Paris-Brest-Paris marathon ride (August 21-25, 2011), I figured it might be time to map out the long and winding road that took me to Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines, in 2007.The route I followed is probably not the best way to get there. However, the studious randonneur may discern in these pages some potholes and cul-de-sacs to avoid.Over the coming days I’ll take you in tandem on my ride to PBP. Here’s the first chapter, describing my early introduction to the sport.

“Are you crazy?” That was the question I had for Vancouver cyclist Gerry Pareja, as he told me about his habit of riding very long distances, day and night, and his ambition to enter the 1200-kilometre Paris-Brest-Paris, grande dame of randonnées.

This test of cycling grit, as the name infers, threads the back roads between the outskirts of the French capital (not far from Versailles) and the coastal city of Brest—there and back—every four years. First run in 1891, its success inspired the Tour de France.

Pareja would attempt this feat in under 90 hours. After that, the organizers evidently closed up shop and went off to drink Bordeaux.

It all sounded, well, French to me.

I met Gerry in 1978, the year before the 9th edition of PBP, while working at The Great Escape/Nippon Cycle, in Vancouver. Besides helping to prepare his bike for PBP, I bought some of the parts he was trading off. They became components on a bike I rode for many years—my Nishiki Landau.

I already knew one of his riding mates John Hathaway (1925-1997), whose fame preceded him. He set the trans-Canada cycling record (24 days 13 hours) in 1957, which stood for 20 years. I once presumed to challenge that record. On a test ride across B.C., in 1972, I realized my ambitions exceeded my talents.

Two more Vancouver bike fiends joined Pareja and Hathaway on their two-wheeled invasion of France: Dan McGuire and Wayne Phillips. So I guess that made it eight wheels in all.

That was pretty much the start and finish of my introduction to randonneuring: four crazy men who became the first cyclists from Canada to enter, and complete, the oldest and most prestigious cycling event in France.

Fast-forward to 1992. I’d moved to Vancouver Island the year before and took up with local Yellow Point cyclists Stephen & Carol Hinde, and Nigel Philcox.

I soon learned that they were veterans—or anciens as successful PBP riders are dubbed, en français—of the 100th anniversary edition of PBP, in 1991. They showed me the medals they had earned—weighty objects, cast in bronze.

After a frigid New Year’s Day ride, Stephen and Carol Hinde served chile and showed an inspirational video of PBP riders slogging up steep Bretagne hills, wearing smiles … or were they grimaces?

Why didn’t I join them on the next poplulaire?—more francophone lingo, meaning a non-official gateway drug intended to hook initiates on hard-core ultra-distance cycling, under the imprimatur of the Audax Club Parisien.

Evidently, I was immune. Over the next couple of years, I did a few 100 km populaires (mostly in spring, drenched by freezing rain, eating mud from the back wheel of the rider pulling me to the finish). I did a 200-kilometre brevet. Then, I went back to my first love: bicycle touring.

In the summer of 1994, I returned from a two-month tour through Alaska, Yukon and B.C.

Two-thirds of the way through a 160-kilometre day-ride on southern Vancuover Island, I bumped into Hinde and Philcox, who were nearing the end of a 600-kilometre brevet. I tagged onto their paceline for a while. After thirty hours in the saddle, they were still setting a blistering pace.

I was awestruck by the endurance of these men. Even with my expeditionary mountaineering experience, long days touring with loaded panniers, and dogged racing demeanour, I couldn’t comprehend how it was possible to ride in under 40 hours—the outside time limit for a 600—distances I was happy to cover on a loaded bike in a week.

But, boy, that sure was a cool looking medal!

And so ends chapter one. You can navigate these stories via the tags below, or the chapter numbers. In particular, the “paris-brest-paris” tag and the “road to pbp” tag (specific to this series) will help you along.

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