Riding the duration of France devotes Martin Love and three friends the have opportunities to enjoy endless rain, empty superhighways and performance-enhancing croissants
Its a misty morning in March. Ive got a stinking hangover and am being dragged round the block by the dog. Suddenly my friend Frank jumps out of the murk, fraction human, component Tigger. Hey, Martin, he says. Ive had a great idea. Fancy cycling to my mums live? Even by his zany standards this is strange. His mum merely lives in Sydenham, about a mile from where were holding. I entail, my mums house in Aix-en-Provence, he includes. Hes half French, but is he half crazy, extremely? Aix is hundreds of miles away. But I know Frank and there is always a fearsome inevitability to his plans
Three months later its another murky morning and Frank and I are about to repetition to his mums mansion. A ambiguous think of incredulity controls me. Frank has persuaded two other misguided beings, Mark and Joan, to join us. The route Frank has planned, from south London to the south of France, is a meandering 900 -mile wiggle which will take us in a lazy swerve across Kent and for the purposes of the Channel before stopping the length of France. Well be cycling from La Manche to Le Med. To impede thoughts interesting, Franks included un petit dtour up and over Mont Ventoux a windblasted 6,273 ft mountain known as the Beast of Provence.