DAY TWO; "Dark Times" - Dieppe to Haillincourt

Rolling off the ferry at daft o'clock in the morning was a shock to the system. Tiredness made us feel cold and faced with the surrounding mist and darkness, everyone set about layering up in preparation for the gloomy cold ride ahead.

However, as we stepped off the ferry we quickly realised that it wasn't at all cold, it was warm...in fact it was pretty hot. Hot enough to work up a sweat just moving about. Despite the dark and the chilly looking fog, it was close to 16 degrees and warming every minute.

Without the privacy of our cabins many of us took to the nearest bush to strip off bib tights and swap for shorts. At the last moment an illuminated toilet was spotted and the passing truck drivers entertainment was cut short as those in need scuttled off to the loo's to change.

Whilst some swapped clothing, I was busy swapping out the tube on my rear tyre that was starting to show signs of a slow puncture, it made sense to take a pre-emptive strike on this puncture before it took hold some-place on the dark foggy main roads of Dieppe and the lights of the dock proved as good a  place as any.

After stocking up on fruit, drink and nerves from the Ben and Andy (Bendy) Wagon, we set off into the pitch dark to climb the long hill out of the dock.

The darkness served to shelter our appreciation from the true gradient and proportions of this first climb out of Dieppe; and after a chest busting slog, even hotter now, we all reached the top to be greeted with a main road where we stopped to catch our breath,  washed in the luxury of sodium street-lights once more.

The route out of Dieppe is a little counter-intuitive, at times feeling as if we had backtracked and returned to the coast on the D485, The streetlights came and went without logic, plunging us back and forth into pitch black. This, the time of day, lack of sleep and the speed of descents added to a general confusion that matched the foggy roads. The remedy was to faithfully follow the glowing line set out on the Garmin and pedal on into intermittent darkness.

The hills started to level out and the road became predictably straight, on the horizon to our left. the sky began to turn a dark shade of blue...dawn was approaching.

We pedalled on and the group began to break up as we each found our own way of dealing with the sensory deprivation of night riding. In the distance the lead group spotted flashing lights and were soon at the scene of an early morning crash. A driver had inexplicably driven off the road into an unforgiving fence post and was receiving attention from a passer by, blue lights flashed on the navy horizon and so we pushed on confident that professional help was on its way.

Unfortunately we hadn't given a thought to the following group who, upon reaching the scene of the crash, expected the worse and assumed that some of the lead group were involved in the accident. We all eventually met again in a well lit lay-b, sharing our relief at finding ourselves  all in one piece. After a short while, we moved off once more, instinctively drawing back together into a secure group.

Dawn broke fast and within a matter of minutes we were once again riding in daylight, surrounded by low mists that made delicate work of enveloping the views to the side of the road.

The grass began to attract the mist which converted to a heavy dew, dropping the temperature to a slight chill but feeling twice as cold. In the chilly light, our speed increased, allowing our body temperatures to compensate for the dropping temperatures.

At around 5.30 just outside Neufchatel we gathered to seek out a breakfast stop and found ourselves in a truck stop at the side of the road on the junction of the D928 and D915. But this was a french truck stop were drivers ate jam and bread while sipping coffee...no fry-ups to be had here...it made a pleasant change and once more, we happily stayed far longer than we should have.

Eventually re-mounting and re-layering against the surprising drop in temperature, we shuffled out of the cafe. There was talk of riding on into the pretty and now close town of Neufchatel but with a diversion of approximately 7 miles (there and back) it was decided that other pretty towns would surely sit closer to our route along the way. We rejoined the D915 and headed off towards the town of Gournay en Bray...focussing already on our lunch stop

The main roads in France are so much better to ride on than in the UK, they are not only well built with smooth predictable  tarmac but are swept clean with no roadside (or centre) residue of loose gravel, glass and other assorted detritus. However, as a yin to that yang, they are also prosaically straight....like really straight. I'd experienced long straight roads whilst riding in Belgium but these weren't just straight, they were hilly too.

The cocktail of daylight and now straight roads served to illustrate the hills ahead with a constant reminder of the ups and downs that were to come as we undulated along to the town of Gournay De Bray. The light grew stronger,  the mists cleared and we picked up our pace. At times were tracking along at an impressive 25mph, each taking turns to lead the group and allow the rest to draft behind. It was good riding and the hills, whilst advertised on the horizon for miles, were munched up . After some impressive drafting and spinning, we hit the town of Gournay en Bray and nearly missed the Bendy Wagon lunch stop, spotting the bright colourful bunting and smiling moustachioed balloons just in time.

Snoozing on the soft grass and overeating seemed to be the order of lunch and after another long stop (what was the rush after all?) we eventually set off in search of loo's at the locally advertised MacDonalds

The Sun was now fully awake and began to hit us hard, soon the temperature had risen to 26 degrees and was accompanied by one of the longest, winding uphill sections of road that I have not experienced since climbing Shap Fell, in Cumbria. It went on so long that pretty soon we had adjusted to the constant climbing as a new way of life and just got on with it.

Almost by surprise we found ourselves harvesting all of our hard work as we peaked the summit and then swooped downhill, rushing through tall maze fields, farmers busying themselves with their own harvesting on either side of us.

After such  long climb and with our lunches fully worked off, we relished the down hill, wheels buzzing and cranks stationary for an infeasibly long way until we rode into the town of Bachivillers turning right across open fields towards the Hotel Granges.

We had  ridden 130 miles broken by 2 hours sleep (for some) and had made it to our destination for the night, the splendid Hotel Granges at Haillancourt.

After showers, carbs, beer and more carbs we settled in the garden for alfresco dining, chat and more than a few well earned laughs.

It was an excellent days riding, with some lifetime experiences earnt along the way and the quality and comfort of the hotel felt like a perfect reward.

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