Sunday was going to be the biggest day, longer than any of the others and more hills. Navigation would also be important as none of us had done this section of the route before.
We left Chris behind at this point as he was nursing an old injury and knew he wouldn’t be able to do the whole distance. He planned to take his time cycling back to England. So we were now back to the original 12 cyclists.
We headed due south from Forges-les-Eaux following the final remnants of the Avenue Verte before climbing our first hill of the day up to La Ferté-Saint-Samson. We were treated to a glorious view of the vally ahead, and as the weather warmed up the day was looking very promising.
Dropping down into the valley, the Pays de Bray, we followed lovely quiet lanes towards our next destination, the town of Gournay-en-Bray. This is cheese country, every other field contained contented cattle, and as Sandra wasn’t wearing purple today we didn’t spook them as we passed.
After Gourney-en-Bray we came to the charming village of Saint-Germer-de-Fly. Here there was an early gothic Abbey dating from the 13th century, although some people, mentioning no names, were more interested in les religieuses au chocolat from the nearby patisserie.
After this there was a long climb up to a plateau where you could see for miles in every direction. It was exhilarating, we felt on top of the world.
Through the next few villages the wind increased and seemed like it was always in our face. But after a change of direction at Juoy la Grange we had it behind us and we could see all the way to Monneville which would be the next big climb of the day.
Lunch was an impromptu roadside picnic. Cheese, ham and baguettes hit the spot as we relaxed for a while in the sunshine.
There were now small villages every couple of miles until we reached the big hill climb going up toward Monneville. Halfway up an ancient black Citroen passed us, honking and waving – it was just the encouragement we needed for this one. At this point Ian and Helen on the tandem and Simon on his fast road bike pushed on hard to enjoy the rolling hills between here and Marines which was the next big town.
When we reached Marines they had located a patisserie and we were able to refuel with cookies and cold drinks. Bliss.
After Marines, we quickly passed through Us and Ableiges and La Villeneuve Saint Martin arriving at the quaint village of Courdimanche where we stopped outside a very pleasant and friendly creperie. Mechanical reliability was good, everyone going well and the towns and villages were getting ticked off quickly, even the hills seemed to be getting easier.
Next came Boisemont and then we were into our first forest, the Foret de l’Hautil. Without warning we were on a steep downhill road heading towards the river Seine. The hill just went on and on, getting faster all the time. Then the road narrowed and the bends became tighter, and still we went faster. The last bend seemed to go on forever before throwing us out at a junction with the river Seine laid out dead ahead. Wow.
We were in Triel-sur-Seine, a place where hidden treasure is said to be buried. Crossing the river we passed through Medan and Villennes-sur-Seine and then a stiff climb into Poissy. Then we were into another forest. It was now 7pm and the day was drawing in. We stopped for a rest and were immediately attacked by hungry mosquitoes and noseeums. Time to move on before we lost all the light.
We passed a riding stables and crossed a major road into another forest. Here the Route des Princesses turned out to be a really steep hill. As long and steep as anything we’d encountered all day – we were all tired, there was another 5 miles to go and this hill was close to defeating us. Eventually we reached the top, and it was the top. There was no more uphill left in France, we’d done it all, surely we had?
We found ourselves next to the Autoroute de Normandie, the main motorway to the West of Paris leading to Rouen. The path felt a bit like it was downhill, pedalling was getting easier. Then it felt a bit more downhill, and then a lot downhill. The going was easy. Effortless as we whirred through the forest. It was almost dark now and the line of a dozen red flashing rear lights stretched out through the trees.
We were out of the forest, swooping down a motorway ramp onto a busy three lane highway. Improbably, there was a cycle lane here and still we were going downhill. This was fun.
Suddenly another junction and we were off the motorway and there right in front of us was our hotel.
82 miles, 2,300ft vertical gain, 11 hours cycling, no punctures, 12 happy cyclists.
