Reunion

Today I'm bound for Britain after 2 weeks on foreign shores. I got a good continental breakfast, because somehow bread just isn't as good outside of France, and headed out into Paris again. I headed to the Moulin Rouge, which I had hoped to see lit at night, but my getting lost in Paris the previous evening had ruled that out.

On my way from the Moulin Rouge to Gare du Nord (the station from which Eurostar departs for London) I was stopped by a French cyclist whom I chatted to for a while. He spoke mostly in English, and I mostly in French. We had a good discussion about the value of hammocks to the touring cyclist (mine, sadly, having gone unused the entire trip due to the weather). He also asked why I was so fast, which amused me greatly. I explained that after the Tormalet Paris is easy.

I arrived at Gare du Nord a full three hours before my train was to depart. I knew from my last trip that the luggage depot (where I had to check my bike in) is on the opposite side of the station from passenger check in. Not easy to make my way with all the gear and no bike to put it on. Fortunately I had learned some lessons from the TGV experience, and was able to re-pack the gear more effectively (not having to deal with the bike it's self was also a major help. I took my time making my way across the station, but was still at the passenger departure area well before check-in for my train opened. The queuing system caused a few frustrations, but things went fairly smoothly. My cleats set off the metal detector, but the French security person seemed to appreciate the issues of cycling and the frisking was cursory.

In the departure lounge I got talking with a lady from Calafornia who has lived in London for the last twenty-somthing years. We catted about our travels, and my friend from Illinois who is just over a year into living in Britain.
The rail travel did throw up another anomaly in that all my travel documentation showed two passengers (because the journey was booked for both Chris and me). I had to explain that "Mousiour Vyse will not be joining us", which made me sound like a Bond villain.

The train was non-stop to London, so completed the journey in just over two and a half hours. Chris met me at St. Pancras station in London so we could ride down to Epsom together. I got stopped by a London cycle courier with whom I chatted about touring gear. After we got across the bridge at Waterloo to the south bank of the Thames, we just had to follow the A-roads to Epsom. We took great delight in overtaking many, many other cyclists, quite a few of whom were on road-race style bikes. At one point we saw a large bunch of cyclists a way ahead. Chris and I were stopped at traffic lights, so I turned to him and said "La peliton a' 20 seconds" and we exchanged evil grins. Chris, on his unladen bike, pulled ahead to create a slipstream, setting an aggressive attack pace. I followed along with the epic 6-panniered touring bike. We swooped by the group at considerable speed; much to our amusement, and eliciting many a google-eyed look from the defeated bunch.

I brought a Tour de France t-shirt back for Chris; it's in race leader yellow, because he most certainly got back to Epsom first. For myself, I got "king of the mountain" polka-dots, because I got to the top of all the mountains (first).

So ends the trip back to Epsom; now to figure out how I'm going to reach Bristol.Leia mais