Your stories
Paula Whitworth, an NDCS staff member, took part in the London to Paris Bike Ride last year. Read her account of this fantastic experience and find out why you don't need to be a seasoned cyclist to join us on this challenge...
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As I met the eyes of the other people assembled in the car park I realised I wasn’t alone in my nervousness, but I still questioned what on earth I was doing, standing in the shadow of Tower Bridge in the middle of the night (6.30am on a Friday morning), in the freezing cold, only an hour away from what promised to be, for better or worse, an experience. I had with me my bike, my rucksack, hundreds of energy bars and my husband, onto whom I was clinging as if my life depended on it. As more people arrived I established that there were several others who, like me, had never done anything like this before, and were also clinging onto the friends and partners they would soon be leaving behind. Then Gabriella – a veteran NDCS Challenger Eventer on her third London to Paris adventure – strolled over, looking effortlessly cool and calm, handed me a sheet of name stickers and asked me to hand them out. Until that moment I forgotten the real reason I was on this trip – I was working. As Press & PR Officer for the NDCS I had been asked to accompany Gabriella and help out. It would be my job not only to complete the 300km journey, but also to make the other participants feel at ease, answer any questions about the NDCS and ensure everyone was working together as a group. I wasn’t sure I could do it.
When everyone had arrived and t-shirts and name badges had been distributed, we were given a quick talk from the tour leader before a final hug and good luck from the assorted well-wishers. This was really it. With the sounds of our bells and the cheers of the crowd ringing in our ears we were off – three days and a lot of miles stretched out between us and our ultimate goal: the Eiffel Tower. As we cycled out of London I began to relax – I might not have done anything like this before, and I might not have stuck to my training plan quite as rigorously as I had hoped, but already it seemed like fun, and certainly something I could do. I had already decided that my talents would lie in helping the people struggling at the back (of whom I was one) and as the first rest stop approached I was more than comfortable and beginning to enjoy it. Then it started to rain. And the hills got steeper. But a pattern soon developed that repeated itself throughout the trip – as each challenge approached, the camaraderie that was so quickly established among the group really did push everyone along. People were chatting and telling jokes, the ‘fast boys’ as we came to know them (resplendent in brightly coloured lycra, never seemed to break into a sweat) would hang back and gee people on – it really was a case of mind over matter.
We arrived at Newhaven ahead of schedule (it was fantastic to be told by the tour manager that we were the fastest group he’d ever taken, although I’m not sure it was true) and flopped down to dinner. And that was probably the first opportunity we had to really get to know people. Everyone seemed quite shell-shocked that we’d managed to complete the first, and – everyone optimistically whispered – the hardest, day. Conversation at this stage revolved around who we were, why we decided to take the trip, and how much training we’d done. When we emerged from the ferry at Dieppe several hours later to cycle the remaining mile or so to the hotel, I think I could speak for the entire group to say we were very proud. I went to sleep that night dreaming of the crème brulee I’d promised myself in Paris.
The London to Paris trip is very short – just three days of cycling – and it really is over before you know it. But somehow you still manage to amass hundreds of fond memories and feel you’ve known your 50 or so fellow cyclists for years. When the route changes from ‘hilly’ to simply ‘undulating’ (it still hurts to get to the top but you know there’s a decent downhill to follow), the sun starts shining and you are cycling through absolutely beautiful Normandy countryside chatting to someone you probably never would have met otherwise, it really feels like you could achieve anything.
On the final day, Gabriella and I skipped the last leg and went ahead into the centre of Paris to set up the finish line. As the cyclists rounded the final corner, escorted by police and with their bells ringing, it was an amazing feeling. One by one they crossed the line, decked out with balloons and streamers, a look of relief and excitement on every face. Bikes were finally abandoned as champagne was gratefully received and photos taken.
When I was asked to help out, almost a year before the trip took place, I agreed without giving it a second thought – but as the day got nearer and nearer and the training time got less and less, I was absolutely terrified. Now when I look back on it I am so glad I did it. I met some great people and had an amazing experience. The aches and pains faded as soon as the finish line was crossed, but the experience will stay with me forever. I would certainly go again.
When everyone had arrived and t-shirts and name badges had been distributed, we were given a quick talk from the tour leader before a final hug and good luck from the assorted well-wishers. This was really it. With the sounds of our bells and the cheers of the crowd ringing in our ears we were off – three days and a lot of miles stretched out between us and our ultimate goal: the Eiffel Tower. As we cycled out of London I began to relax – I might not have done anything like this before, and I might not have stuck to my training plan quite as rigorously as I had hoped, but already it seemed like fun, and certainly something I could do. I had already decided that my talents would lie in helping the people struggling at the back (of whom I was one) and as the first rest stop approached I was more than comfortable and beginning to enjoy it. Then it started to rain. And the hills got steeper. But a pattern soon developed that repeated itself throughout the trip – as each challenge approached, the camaraderie that was so quickly established among the group really did push everyone along. People were chatting and telling jokes, the ‘fast boys’ as we came to know them (resplendent in brightly coloured lycra, never seemed to break into a sweat) would hang back and gee people on – it really was a case of mind over matter.
We arrived at Newhaven ahead of schedule (it was fantastic to be told by the tour manager that we were the fastest group he’d ever taken, although I’m not sure it was true) and flopped down to dinner. And that was probably the first opportunity we had to really get to know people. Everyone seemed quite shell-shocked that we’d managed to complete the first, and – everyone optimistically whispered – the hardest, day. Conversation at this stage revolved around who we were, why we decided to take the trip, and how much training we’d done. When we emerged from the ferry at Dieppe several hours later to cycle the remaining mile or so to the hotel, I think I could speak for the entire group to say we were very proud. I went to sleep that night dreaming of the crème brulee I’d promised myself in Paris.
The London to Paris trip is very short – just three days of cycling – and it really is over before you know it. But somehow you still manage to amass hundreds of fond memories and feel you’ve known your 50 or so fellow cyclists for years. When the route changes from ‘hilly’ to simply ‘undulating’ (it still hurts to get to the top but you know there’s a decent downhill to follow), the sun starts shining and you are cycling through absolutely beautiful Normandy countryside chatting to someone you probably never would have met otherwise, it really feels like you could achieve anything.
On the final day, Gabriella and I skipped the last leg and went ahead into the centre of Paris to set up the finish line. As the cyclists rounded the final corner, escorted by police and with their bells ringing, it was an amazing feeling. One by one they crossed the line, decked out with balloons and streamers, a look of relief and excitement on every face. Bikes were finally abandoned as champagne was gratefully received and photos taken.
When I was asked to help out, almost a year before the trip took place, I agreed without giving it a second thought – but as the day got nearer and nearer and the training time got less and less, I was absolutely terrified. Now when I look back on it I am so glad I did it. I met some great people and had an amazing experience. The aches and pains faded as soon as the finish line was crossed, but the experience will stay with me forever. I would certainly go again.