DAY THREE "Peekaboo"- Paris Baby!

Today was our last days ride and pretty soon we would be swapping the clean, country air for the congested streets of Paris.

Or so we thought.

After a slight delay fettling with gears and outfits we set out across open flat countryside.

France felt a lot more French today. The main roads had given way to smooth rolling lanes that swept through the middle of vast well stocked fields. It was warm but not uncomfortably hot and the wind had left us to get on with it.

With so much more agricultural space available we were struck by how large the farms were compared those in  the UK, stretching for miles at a time and ending in less defined areas of scrub rather than abruptly at a hedgeside. There was land to spare and so, inevitabley, spare land all around.

 It all added to the sense of openness and we were visited by so few cars that at times, we forgot that we were riding on roads at all and were so busy chatting that we had to scuttle to the side of the road on the rare occasion that the last rider called out "CAR UP!"

Small towns were starting to appear but seemed unoccupied and deserted, nothing in these inland areas of France seems to get moving much before 10.30 and so we rode on through picturesque ghost towns in search of a 30 mile coffee stop.

At the elevated village of Mairie we struck black gold and found a patisserie and a coffee shop within a few buildings of each other. The patisserie was guarded over by an unimpressed ginger tom, sat on a throne of pampas, that stared at us as if we were the 100th lycra clad riders to take pictures of him already that day.

we took pictures all the same.

seemed a shame not to.

Riding on through more fields interspersed with small villages (each starting to busy up with the bustle of day to day life) we moved along at a good pace, sticking together up the long hills and swooping drops.

We were aware that, at some point we would stop climbing and descend with a cliff edge drop down to the banks of the Seine. The distance to the "drop" became the hot topic of conversation when Vajrin happened to mention its exact distance away. I was intrigued to know how he knew with such accuracy and he promptly went on to instruct me on yet another glorious function of my beloved Garmin that I was totally unaware of.

I spent the next two miles giggling at the thought of knowing exactly what incline and decline was ahead and sat back and reeled it all in.

We met the "drop" with eager anticipation and the group shot down at breakneck speed.

A while ago, whilst riding with many of the same riders, I inadvertently took the group up a tortuous hill without any need, only to have to stop at the top and send us all back down. The irony of this misadventure wasn't lost on me today... as I watched the last rider speed off down the "drop" ...in the wrong direction, missing the planned left turn and heading off in blissful ignorance.

A small shiver crept over my spine and I hurriedly scanned the screens of my Garmin hoping that the impact of this diversion would not result in a climb back UP the "drop"

I was in luck, about half a mile later the "proper" route seemed to rejoin the diversion and so I span on with my fingers crossed and headed down to the Seine to meet the others.

At the bottom we regrouped...back on course and crossed the wide flat river in search of our lunch stop.

The Velo-Gods were with us that morning, as for the second time  that day,we diverted from our route as we hit the banks of the river.The Seine had called to us like a siren and tempted us to follow its banks, whereas the Garmin screamed a different tone to shove us back on track. Matt decided that although the charming riverside path that i was keen to follow was close to the planned route, for the sake of potential missing lunch (which was impossible as lunch want for another 8 miles) we should back track and stay on mission.

With a shrug and a tut I gave in and followed the group 20 feet back to a small underpass, through which we could immediately see, sat at the side of the road, the Bendy wagon ...and our lunch.

close one!

Perhaps I should give up this navigation lark!!

Ben and Andy had outdone themselves with our last lunch stop location.. Set against the high flint walls of the Chateau De Medan on a small, gravel square. Even the local Mayor came out to welcome us.

It was by now so hot in the sun that we each crammed into the limited shade of the high wall and stuffed ourselves on the last of the food and drink.

Tired, fed and with only 30 or so miles to go, we prepared ourselves to enter the urban jungle of Paris and set off.

Thing is though, Paris just doesn't work that way. Instead of busier and busier streets we headed off into woodland along firetrap roads, rode around parkland on smooth tarmac and rarely hit main roads or even houses for the next 20 miles.

 As we passed the enormous entrance gate for the Palace of Versailles, My Garmin told us that we were close...but once more we headed off again into sun speckled parkland

This was starting to become worrying, whilst the rest of the group rode on and enjoyed the vast smooth private  and car free roads, I became increasingly worried that we were getting lost.

We were by now only 4 miles (allegedly) from the centre of Paris and instead of growing busy and congested, we seemed to be entering into wooded countryside.

As the meters clicked away I grew more and more uneasy until we hit some sort of raised park with roundabouts manicured roads... and people, lots and lots of people. I started to relax and finally when a Kindly French chap suggsted we should all ride for 3 minutes along a quiet park lane to enjoy the view, I was rewarded with.

My First view of Paris...and our destination the "Toure Eiffell".

And as importantly, from this elevated position one more thing stood out to me.

It was all downhill from here.

The park road took us around the Hippodrome Lanchamps racecourse and ...finally...on into the centre of Paris where the parkland heroically succumbed to cobble and kerb stones.

With little more than a mile of truly urban Paris riding we were rewarded with our first up close and personal view of the Tower as it played peekaboo from behind tall trees.

Moments later we were again crossing the Seine and riding under the wrought Iron legs of our destination.

After three days of riding, over two countries and through two capital cities, we were here.

And what a fantastic sight to welcome us.

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