The party called Paris–Brest–Paris

text by Eva Jacobs
photos Eva Jacobs and Denis Bodenec

I did not understand it. A party? What kind of party? It’s a struggle, isn’t it? That was my reaction when I saw a video report of a Paris-Brest-Paris brevet. I saw tired cyclists who had nevertheless participated in this mega tour (organized since 1891, first as a competition and since 1951 for all lovers of long-distance cycling). They were interviewed along the way: “I come here for the people I meet in the villages, that appeals to me” one participant declared. I didn’t understand it at all.

For a year I had been preparing. A brevet every month, sometimes two, and mostly cycling to the start location, Boekelo, Groningen, Zeeland and the Climate Tour along the ‘future’ Dutch coastline. Putting in miles to know if I could do it.

It was once my dream to be able to participate in Paris–Brest–Paris

It was once my dream to be able to participate in Paris–Brest–Paris. Soon my dream became an illusion, too many ailments along the way, fatigue and eventually climate change, were the reasons that led me to the conclusion that I had better leave the trip to others. That was in November 2022. A month later, I had second thoughts. If I don’t give it a try, I won’t forgive myself for the rest of my life. By July, I had 7,500 miles / 12,000 miles on the annual bike-mile counter. I was all set.

My dear family decided to come with me to Paris. So we drove the car, the Snoek (velomobile) on the roof and a trailer with 4 ‘upwrong’ bikes. The Paris–Brest–Paris brevet I would ride with Jos. Jos believed I could handle the distance before I did. And… he had a plan! 😉 I never plan; I take it as it comes, or I do what others do… And we had the Snoek-L that he really wanted for this tour. The deal was quickly done.

A few rides in the French countryside show that the front derailleur doesn’t shift quite right after all. In the morning before the start of Paris–Brest–Paris (August 20th), we were still adjusting it. After an hour of boarding/riding/booting/tutoring… I’m exceedingly nervous. I no longer have confidence in it… Yet Allert managed to tune it!

The start is in Rambouillet, a town next to Paris, which is far less crowded. It’s hot. Or at least that’s how it feels after a month of rainy cold summer in the Netherlands. All the Dutch people are hot. We gather at the Château Rambouillet for the Paris–Brest–Paris group photo. Most are wearing the club clothes I designed. Nice to see.

Then some rest under the trees of the castle park, chatting with friends or those who want to admire my bike. Peter’s Snoek is also there, but just before we have to line up for the bike check, it turns out his lights don’t work. Jos comes to the rescue, and together, they quickly solve the problem of the loosened cable. Even before the start I am interviewed by two lovely ladies. “And why did you choose this bike?” “I make them; my husband is the designer; I have no choice.”

At 17:15 hours, we leave together with group F, the special bikes. Once on the road, when overtaking (or being overtaken), I see folding bikes, Moultons, fixies or ancient randonneur bikes, tandems, and even a triple tandem with a German crew. And another 8 or 10 (?) velomobiles.

At first, it goes smoothly, but I also pedal more than is desirable for Jos (and me). Then there is a coffee/cola stop, which refreshes us both. A journalist joins us and since my knowledge of French is nil, he just takes pictures and writes down our names. In every village we pass through, people cheer in cafés, families stand around corners waving, and on hills, couples sit on camping chairs in the burning sun to clap. I wave back at everyone and usually smile along with them. Jos and I keep a steady pace (100 watts average for me), and we ride from checkpoint to checkpoint. I buy coffee, coke, and a French sandwich (a filled half baguette) if I can. I eat a lot and regularly. To my surprise, I don’t get an upset stomach. For drinks, I bring along powdered sports drinks for the entire trek. Maybe silly, but the taste is very sensitive to me. We climb super slow and descend super fast. There are 10,000 meters / 33,000 feet of elevation gain along the route. And it is hot.

We interrupt the first night just after the checkpoint in Fougères with 2:15 hours of sleep on the side of the road. Me in my sleeping bag, Jos in his bivy. The second night we want to sleep in Carhaix-Plouguer (at 514th km / 312th miles), for 6 hours long or so. Denis, a client of ours, would be waiting for us there. I exchange a few messages with him and understand that he has arranged an overnight stay. After meeting him further along the route to Brest, it turns out to be a misunderstanding. Still, I am happy to see him! He calls his wife and we cycle another hour, there she arrives with a camper van. We sleep in it on the 540th km, for almost 6 hours. In the morning we join a long line of red lights and reflective vests. Truly magical! So many cyclists doing the same thing. Denis cycles with us.

We passed the checkpoint in Brest just before closing time. We didn’t pay attention, how stupid! A quick shower, some more lingering, photo taken on the bridge where you can see the Atlantic Ocean and then back to Paris. Denis left us again in Carhaix. It’s still hot, the hills are steep, one time I’m going up at 6.3 km/h (4 mph) and then again I’m going down at 85 km/h (53 mph). But there are still all these people along the road as if they have come for me. “Bravo, madame!” Kids hold out hands, sometimes clapping “high-five” 5 in a row. You see the names of the participants on banners, who most likely grew up in those villages with the brevet every 4 years. “Maman, quand je serai grande, j’y vais aussi.” (“Mommy, when I’ll be big, I go as well”). I accepted water three times from a little boy while cycling. So cool! And all those decorations everywhere!

On the second day, we covered 384 km / 239 miles. That means that after a short sleep (three hours) in Fougères, we only have 290 km / 190 miles to go.

Sleeping in a dormitory is not a success. Never mind, after the finish, it certainly succeeds. And it is cloudy. So the first 100 km / 62 miles go nicely. Breakfast along the road is provided by the local people in exchange for sending a postcard. And Jos is still cheerful company. And then someone stole all the clouds. There comes a terrible 150 km / 93 miles, bathed in sweat, salt, and pain, constantly pouring water over the head or your head under the tap if there is one. Everyone is struggling. Participants lie on the roadsides in the shade. Spectators cheer even more enthusiastically, which is also my salvation. They distract me from my personal woes and lead me toward the finish line. How grateful I am to them! They made it a feast! We cycled over the last threshold in Rambouillet at 22:35. We had covered roughly 1200 km / 746 miles in a total of 77 hours and 16 minutes (including sleep and stops).

PS: I also did some (cycling) shirt swapping. Before the start, I didn’t like that idea, but afterward, I very shyly went up to a Japanese, and we swapped. 🙂