Back in Summer 1988 shortly after first taking up cycling, I felt a great sense of satisfaction when returning to South London from long dayrides in the lefty Surrey lanes. That year, I'd a visit to my girlfriend in France coming up and thought what an adventure it would be to cycle from London to her home in the city of Saint Eitiene. She thought I's mad ofcourse, so did many people, but I did recieve incouragement and help from my flatmate, a character called Dougy, who seened to know a lot about bikes amongst other things. He helped me assemble the bike to be used and advised me on the purchase of gear which was not a lot of things as I was travelling extremely light from dawn to dusk covering up to 200km a day then bivacing it at night. By the end of day one I'd crossed The English Channel and the bleak rolling countryside of North Eastern France on a bright frosty November day greeted me on day two. Nothing for it but ride on and on past ploughed fields, through quaint little villages. Soon Paris beckoned which I crossed using the Metro. The forest of Fontainbleu on the other side was soon left behind and I was back in open countryside. The whole thing at the time felt very exciting and I did not know at the time that it would change my life. The final stretch took me into the mountains of Central France. Here the scenery captivated me. In retropect travelling by train in France a couple of years later, it lacked the excitment of being out in open in the countryside being passed and I missed all the little places which a cycletour normally passes through.

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