Again I apologise for the lack of updates but I can only post what I've been told via sms from the boys.
This whole crap knee business and having to come home early is not recommended.
Anyway, the guys progress reports.
Friday (the 13th August) - The guys travelled from Cognac to Mussidan, I haven't been informed of any revelations during this day so I'm guessing the curse of friday the 13th didn't phase our hardened cycling giants.
Saturday (14th) - Mussidan to Montaiguy. A reasonably uneventful day in the sunshine spiralled into depression and depression upon trying to find the campsite. After a 3km detour to find the campsite in the middle of nowhere, the guys were confronted with every french holidaymaker in central France and a full campsite. Negotiations via a happy dutch camper and an irate Thomas Bustard proved futile. A particularly motherly British lady offered the guys her pitch but the fascist of a campsite manager was having none of it. The despair spread through the group, but a chink of light appeared as their new dutch chum got them booked into a campsite 8km away. The ride involved a gruelling hill climb, George stealing Ed's map and throwing it in the road to his own and Si's childish amusement and several infuriating stops for Louis due to his questionable pannier loading. We then arrived at an idyllic spot on the river where they settled down to a refreshing glass of wine and the sounds of some chirpy ducks, which Louis enjoyed a bit too much.
Sunday 15th August - Montaigu to Grisolles - 50 miles. After the drama of the preceeding night, the team took the morning off. This involved Tom Bustard taking part in the inaugural Montaigu triathlon starting in the lake. This was met with complete disinterest by everyone else. Further mellowness ensued as George treated everyone to story time from his new mountaineering book. When the guys finally set off, the French had turned against them. Perhaps it was Bush donning the Union Jack, or perhaps it was Alex's insulting intimation of a French man. Two motorists took exception to us, one woman nearly causing a pile up. George chastised the said woman by shouting in the Queen's English 'What are you doing WOMAN!??'. The rest of the day involved drizzle and dreariness. The campsite was questionable at best but the Bike for Life team marched on.
Monday 16th August - Grisolles to Castell Naudiery 62 miles. After some sound advice from two more upstanding Dutch citizens the guys took a break from the roads and hit the canals. Flat and shady, they ate up the miles, only stopping to get lost in Toulouse and bring the city to a standstill with their repeated ignorance of red lights and one way systems. The guys also conversed with a Frenchman and his wolf of a dog called Shadow, who Phil yet again befriended. Other ports of call included an intermarche to the displeasure of Bustard where the faint tunes of Kasabian where met with dancing in the cheese aisle. After arriving at Castell in good time they hit the town. First port of call here was the local kebaby courtesy of Louis' kebaby sixth sense. After a fine scouse impression, Adille, the kebab man treating them to some breakdancing after some bullying from Bustard. It was surreal. Phil enjoyed the local vino a bit too much and Louis went back for his second kebab and it was another athletic end to the evening.
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