Tall Stories and Low Tales

In response to zero public demand, here’s a sort-of account of my Paris-Brest-Paris in 2019.  This was my fourth PBP, but the first since 2007.

You may have read quite a few accounts of PBP 2019 by now.  The normal account proceeds in an orderly fashion from soup to nuts.  This, however, is more like one of those modish small-plate restaurants where dishes arrive haphazardly, at the whim of the chef.  Except it’s alphabetical.  It’s a small-plate restaurant serving alphabetti spaghetti, with flambéed flimflam.  So take your seats for the ABC of PBP.

By this point in my LEL preparations, I should in theory have done a couple of 400s and a 600.  The first 400, Shawn Shaw’s Porkers, ended with a coughing fit in pitch-black Somerset lanes—a return of the lurgy that meant I didn’t even start the Hard-Boiled.  The second 400, Mike Wigley’s Llanfair PG, was a joy from start to finish.  Work-related travel meant I’d be unable to make the Brimstone or most of the other calendar 600s, so I showed up for Ian Hennessey’s Kernow and Southwest 600 the weekend after the Llanfair ride.  Unfortunately my motivation failed to turn up with me, so I bailed when it became clear that at the current rate of progress I’d have minimal sleep time.  OK, no 600s completed so far, and only one 400.  What now?  The answer:  a summer Arrow to York—a team ride with the spirit of our late lamented friend, Dave Lewis.  Here’s how it went.

Scenery (Mid-Wales)

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The fourth 200 of the calendar year…  A dry forecast, so I could take the proper audax bike rather than the tourer…  This was going to be easy, right?

Ian leads the way at the start of the Mad March. Note frost on bridge

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