TO PARIS ON A PENNY...

December 1999

New adventures, and a new form of transport. Traveling on a Penny Farthing is a wonderful thing, its not easy by any stretch of the imagination, but just seeing peoples reaction as you wheel past is worth all of the extra effort involved.

After my trip to Amsterdam had totally convinced me that my future lay in a round the world tour, I was completely happy to make the trip on my 60 year old BSA Paratroopers bike. Over a period of time though my thoughts turned to the idea of using a Penny Farthing, I had never ridden one before, but I didn't think that this mattered too much. By late summer of 99 the Penny was up and running, I had made a three speed version to my own design with a 50" diameter front wheel, and a 20" rear. As the year 2000 celebrations approached the thought came into my mind to ride the Penny to Paris.....

Boxing day is traditionally a day of rest to help get over the celebrations, not so this year as we were up with the larks on day one of my trip. I had already dismantled the Penny and loaded it along with my provisions and kit into my dads reliable old Citroen. The trip down to Dover was very uneventful, due I presume to it being the day after Christmas, the time when most people are still sleeping off their Christmas day over indulgences. My only worry at the moment is the rotten bout of flu which I have just caught, it certainly couldn't have had better timing for its arrival, though my immune system is now being helped by every pill and potion that exists under the sun!  Arriving in Dover we parked up, carefully removed the bike from the car and I started to rebuild it into its complete state. This took no longer than 20 minutes, and once loaded up with my vast array of paraphernalia we were away.

When I say away I ought to quantify this a little better, I rode a good 100yds to the ferry booking terminal ! Here after queuing for an age I was told that I had seven minutes to make the 9.15am boat. With a big rush I raced outside wheeled around the corner and had to foot the Penny up the first hill that I came too ! By the time we reached the boat I found to my dismay that we were too late, and would now have to wait and catch the 12.30 sailing. This was rather a disappointment as this vexatious delay meant I lost a good half days riding time. When it was time to wheel onto the ferry it felt as if all eyes were on me, I had been having a chat with a group of coach drivers who were heading for Switzerland, when I was ushered away as the first person to load. This was splendid as it meant that I was only second in the queue for the restaurant when I went up into the ship. I was then immediately promoted to first place when the people before me asked if I was the mad Penny Farthing rider they had just seen. They then explained that they thought that I probably needed a good intake of vitamins sooner than they ! The crossing took an hour and twenty minutes which was nice, and by about 2.30pm we hit the roads of France ! The truth in those words is greater than you probably realise, I shall explain. Heading away from the Ferry into Calais you first go through a very run down area with a bad road and no people. I was trundling along here pleased as punch that we had at least made it to France when I crossed a set of old railway tracks set into the road. The first ones gave us a bit of a bump but with no ill effects, then we approached another set with even more gusto, unfortunately these were set at more of an angle across the road than the previous ones, so, Crash, Bang, and finally gracefully spread across the road was I. Here I lay in a  sprawled condition across the road once again! Picking myself, and the Penny up, we were approached by a somewhat surprised and concerned looking French fellow, to whom I signed that I was sound in body, though perhaps not in mind. I was extremely thankful that I hadn't buckled the wheel, so I mounted the bicycle again and headed off into Calais. I stopped in the town to do a few running repairs, as I had noticed that the brake was now declining to work, and the handle bars were pointing out at a intriguing angle ! The bars duly re aligned, I quickly spotted that the main axle nut on one side was loose which had caused the lack of brakes. Off I set again and quickly found the road to Coquelles, before this I passed the impressive fort of Nieulay which I liked and thought of as a good camping spot, I decided to press on though to get a few more miles under our belts before the sun went down. Passing through Coquelles it gave the impression of being a typical missed by most type of town, with quite a few empty old buildings about the place. We then came upon a rather long hill which I started to ride up but unfortunately ran out of steam and had to foot the rest of the way. When I reached the top I managed to wheel again for a little distance but then chose to stop as by this time it had become dark. I had pulled into the back entrance of a sleepy farm, and as I wasn't overlooked from the house I thought it would be a good place to pitch the tent for the night. Well big mistake ! I unfolded my tent, then all of a sudden a howling gale appeared and tried to send us both into orbit, as the gale obviously didn't travel alone his acquaintance Monsieur sleet now arrived to keep him company. The next problem was to try and get the tent pegs in, I had chosen stony ground which of course helped matters, and after 15 minutes of struggling with a flailing tent I gave in and repacked it into its bag. On the other side of the road was a large posh hotel, I stumbled over lent the penny against their shiny door, walked inside and dripped on their floor. £65.00 for one night, not possible I'm afraid, I would rather freeze. My alternative was to head back into Coquelles and book into a b+b I had previously observed. Rolling back down the hill I had already pushed the Penny up was fun, though I'm not thinking about having to foot the bike up it again tomorrow at this moment in time ! When I arrived at the b+b hotel the heavens had truly opened, which again was pleasant for me, but fortunately I was let in to the foyer by some Polish people. They had been refused entry into England for Christmas to see their respective boyfriends, girlfriends, and now were sadly heading back to Poland. Officialdom doesn't appear to have much Christmas spirit in the UK. The proprietor of the hotel kindly allowed me to bring the bike inside and block the fire escape which was kind of him, so at least the bike isn't going to get a soaking. I shall cook myself a nice meal on my stove in the room tonight to try and lessen the weight that I seem to be carrying. I have covered a somewhat stunning 6.9miles, with a maximum speed of 17mph today.

Good intentions are wonderful things so I set the alarm for a seven o'clock start, when I heard it go off I was sure that it was way too early, so chose to ignore it and awake again at a more respectable 9 o'clock. With the Penny loaded up I wheeled out of Coquelles retracing the previous days tyre tracks, heading up the same hill we had encountered the day before. The experience of having already pushed my friend up this hill once, didn't surprisingly help at all on the second attempt ! Wheeling down the little lane that I was following I could see all the huge trucks and tourists whizzing by on the adjacent A16 motorway, I then arrived at a T junction, and my nice lane became a slip road for the A16. This was rather perplexing as on the map it was shown as a separate road entirely. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to ride on a motorway like this or not, so chose to ride to the end of the slip road to see what I could see. When I had wheeled my way to the end I was fortunate to spot my own road seemingly starting off again to one side in a middle of a field, I presume that it must have lost half a mile of its length when they built the motorway. I turned around and proceeded to ride the wrong way back up the slip road to regain my route via a diversion through a local village. When I arrived back at the T junction there was a fellow waiting there for me, he introduced himself as being from the local Calais newspaper and had been sent out on a mission to find and photograph me. After a quick interview and photo session I was once more on my way, here I passed along an unmade road on which I had to procure great care to avoid taking a header. The last part of this road I had to dismount as there was no way I could climb the inclination. Here started a most torturously slow piece of wheeling, through Hervelinghen and on to St .lnglevert we had hill after hill.

All of these were way too steep for us to wheel up, so it was just down to pushing. I don't normally walk anywhere because I cycle, so all this effort was found to be most draining upon my person. I crossed under the A16 and carried on Southwards in this same pattern and finally arrived in the very pretty but closed town of Marquise. It was here that I turned left onto the D191 and wheeled into Rinxent, to then take the D127 once more in a Southerly direction. The rolling landscape and incessant headwind is really taking it out of me now, and our progress has now become very slow indeed. Even on the flat parts it would seem that I can only generally pull first gear for most of the time, and the down hill sections are soon taken up with a fast coast. I am wondering though how well I could have faired with my old BSA over this terrain ?

Reaching a cross-roads I lent the Penny against a piece of Armco and surveyed my route ahead, the road wound its way up to the church and village of Alincthun placed, not to surprisingly upon the top of a very steep hill. One step after another I pushed the 125lbs of Penny Farthing and kit until finally arriving at the top, exhausted. Here I met the friendly vicar of the village who asked me to pose for him for some photos infront of the church, this I duly obliged to do and then set off again on my journey. Way off in the distance I could see my road dip down into a valley and then off up a sharp inclination into a forest. When I arrived at the base of the climb and looked up ahead, I was only grateful that at least I would be pushing up through pleasant greensward. This walk seemed to take an age but upon finally reaching the summit we had a nice coast down to the bottom of the hill into my destination for the night, Desvres. Here I then started to foot ride again to get up into the town and find the marked campsite. After a deal of toing and froing I was told by a friendly local that the campsite was closed, so with this I quickly gave in and found a small hotel, I put the Penny in their garage and decided that I felt totally exhausted. I was sitting in the bar drinking a rather expensive cup of coffee when the only other patrons entered to acquire some beer. They were five Indian chaps from Leicester who like me were over in France for the Millennium. We had a bit of a chat and laughed that the owners only customers were English, I then had a pee in the most horrible outside latrine, and then retired to a very welcome bed. Today I had covered just 27.8miles, with a maximum speed of 23mph, this is a lot less than I had expected for all the effort it involved.

My day started once again with me ignoring the alarm, I had spent a very restless night just going over everything in my mind. As of yesterday the RTW trip was off using the Penny, purely because of the difficulty of crossing those continuous hills, once ensconced in my room in the hotel I started to resolve the problem. A great long list was written halfway through the night which mainly consisted of weight saving measures to apply to the bike and my kit. In the morning I visited and used for the first time the hotels outside squat toilet, it stunned me to think that an establishment which had a nice restaurant would not have a nice inside toilet. I paid my bill and removed the Penny from their garage and adjusted the brake cable which I thought had been slipping. This piece of maintenance completed off we set heading away from Deserves straight into a killer of an hill ! The previous days struggles were still fresh in my mind so this was a bit of a shock after only 100 yards. I gallantly pushed on upwards and finally reached the summit, and then started a delicious decent onto the valley floor which I followed for mile upon mile. This lovely ride alongside a flooded stream took me all the way to the Norman town of Montreuil.

Here we started another murderous slog of pushing up to the town, we eventually reached the town wall and entered under a beautiful arch. Immediately to my left I found a fabulous cobbled road going up to a fork with fantastic old houses on either side, I of course stopped and took some photos and had a nice chat with some locals.

Unfortunately all the roads then became cobbled and as I wasn't about to try my luck on them, back to footing it was. In the town centre I was accosted by some nice Dutch people for some photos, and then spoke to a friendly French lady about the trip while her husband video'd it all. I then wheeled out of town on the deserted D139 heading for Roussent, along this stretch of road the surface was very bad and also very narrow so I was glad that I was the only traffic. Hunger started to knock on my stomach door at this point so I stopped under an old bridge had lunch, and also a nice brew up, which proved to be a splendid energy boost and wake up. Off we set again and of course went straight into a big hill. When reaching Roussent I turned East and headed along the river for Douriez, the theory being that the route will be flatter along a river. Arriving at Douriez I crossed the river and turned South onto the D212 aiming now for Crecy. After about half a mile I saw ahead of me yet another hill, this turned out to be the worse one of the day, it seemed to be never-ending and when finally reaching the top I really was all but done in. I stopped shortly afterwards at an cafe for a coffee and a refill of my water supplies and then set off to find a camping spot for the night. I found a lovely spot in a corner of a field and thankfully there was no wind so I didn't have any problems with my tent. Having cooked myself up a nice dinner, I curled up in my sleeping bag and fell into a deep sleep. I had covered 37.4 miles with a maximum speed of 20mph.

I had an amazingly good nights sleep free camping in the corner of the field, I may have had some visitors in the night as I was awoken by a car horn and then a car pulling away but to be honest I'm not really sure. I had a lovely warm nights sleep in my bulky but well insulated sleeping bag, and also used my Therm-a-rest ground mat which stopped any cold coming up from underneath with great effect. In the morning there had been a good frost as all the puddles were frozen and ice was still everywhere, but as I mentioned I didn't feel it at all during the night. I packed up early and was on the road by nine, being very careful to avoid all of the ice which was still upon the road. My first unexpected activity of the day just after passing the town of Marcheville was disagreeably cold fingers, when I had packed the tent away they had become aware of the outside temperature, and by now the ends were really hurting. I stopped and spent five minutes on each blowing warm air onto the cold bits, this thankfully did the trick. This was to be another day of many hills and much pushing, after passing through St Riquier and turning right to rejoin the D183 I met a total rotter of a hill. Halfway up a mountain biker in all the gear whizzed passed and said hello, he was closely followed by a car with I guess his dad driving. About 100 yards further up the hill the dad stopped and jumped out with a camera ! When I reached them we worked out who was who, where we were all from, and where we were all going too. The dad took his photo with his son alongside me on his very lightweight bike, and then did the same again for me.

They then kindly informed me that it was only one more km of hills then it would be flat, I was very relieved. By the time I reached the Somme river at Pont-Remy I realised that it was his son who was the only cyclist in his family, as there were still plenty of steep inclinations for me to negotiate.

I crossed the Somme at Cocquerel to follow the D21 and on to join the main D901 route. In the town of Airaines I stopped at a Supermarche to stock up on chocolate and other supplies, they sold me five Cadburys type bars all together for just 95p ! When I came outside quite a crowd had formed around the Penny, and when chatting or mainly signing I got an invite for a coffee and a photo by a friendly old Italian fellow. Unfortunately I had to turn him down as his Grand Chateau was in the wrong direction, and I unfortunately couldn't spare the time if I was to make it to Paris for New years, but I hoped for a similar type of invite at the end of the day as well. I wheeled on through the rolling countryside over never-ending hills and still headed south, at this point I managed to devour two whole bars of chocolate to help boost my energy levels, and very nice they were too ! I was so tired from all of the pedalling and pushing that I decided to get a hotel at 4 o'clock, I had just reached the town of Thieulloy l'Abbage and stopped to ask for the whereabouts of some accommodation, unfortunately no hotels was the answer, but 6km further on I would find one. The energy levels were very low at this point so six more km I could have done without, and also it was now getting dark and sleeting. I dug deep and put a big spurt on to reach the town of Poix-de-Picardie in 35 minutes, I was shattered as I wheeled down a long hill which I prayed I wouldn't have to re climb, thankfully I stumbled upon a hotel. Falling through their door into the bar they all looked rather shocked as to what had just arrived ! Having safely stored the Penny in the rear courtyard, I immediately retired to my room to cook some food and have a very deep sleep. I had covered 36.2 miles, with a maximum speed of 23mph.

Having spent a very pleasant night in the hotel, which included a nice cooked meal by my own hand, and a very sound sleep, I managed too mount up, have my likeness taken by the landlady, and set off by 9.30 in the morning. Heading South again on the D901, I was almost immediately greeted by my first large hill of the day. This of course meant having to use the feet rather than the wheel again and did take rather a long trudge to climb. It was a shame to leave Poix as in the morning light it did appear to be a very pretty town with a large square at its centre. I passed through Equennes Eranecourt, and once again had to foot it over several more inclinations, at this point I received a long straight barren piece of road, the heavens opened with rain, and as the sun was well and truly hidden from view it did turn quite cold. I managed to wheel along at a slow pace in first, using the easiest of my gears, the tarmac is quite coarse here which does seem to make rather a large difference to the speed of my progress. Unfortunately the quality of the roads so far do seem to be taking all of their aggression out on my rear wheel, as the solid tyre is now all but worn out. Wheeling straight through the town of Grandvilliers I was once again out on the barren cold roads which remind me somewhat of passing over moorland. Stopping in the picturesque town of Marseille, I made an attempt to purchase some more energy giving chocolate, I failed at this task but bought more bread and bananas instead. Today seems to be the day of many hills, as once more I started the one foot infront of the other dance on the long trudge to the tops of the many climbs. Halfway up a particularly long and wet climb I heard a call and a toot on a horn and the words cafa. The noises came from some people parked on the other side of the road in a lay-by, I turned round, crossed over and went and gratefully joined Paul, Martine, and Marie for some midday hospitality of coffee and chocolate ! They were off to Normandy to play music for the New year, but Paul kindly offered me a place to stay in Paris from the 2nd when he returned. My long trudge started again, but once over the top I happily had a long downhill section, I also had a headwind against me which made me have to pedal as well, which I thought wasn't particularly fair. The road traffic by this stage had become very heavy with lorries and cars, and this I didn't care for too much it has to be said, especially as I seemed to be getting a continuous coating of dirty spray and rain deposited upon me. Halfway down a nice long slope I heard a load ping and the pedals immediately stopped turning, so I quickly dismounted and saw that a spoke had broken. The spokes demise was due to one of the hubs drive screws coming undone and catching the innocent spoke as it made its way past, this caused only ten minutes to rectify and then we were off again. Finally we arrived upon the outskirts of Beauvais, and I chose to take the route straight through the town centre to escape the traffic of the D901. Once entering the town of course, my way became gridlocked with traffic jams, but at least I was happy to be avoiding the spray. So I was back to footing it again all the way through the highstreet, the looks of surprise on the many shoppers faces as I passed on by gave me great amusement even though I was by now very tired. I stopped at a large town map to regain my bearings, but such was the interest of the gathering crowd that I ended up answering more questions than I could ask about my way ! I managed to mount up again and wheeled to just south of the town, and as it had now become quite dark I stopped at a hotel for the night. I had leant the Penny against a large concrete pillar while I checked in, but much to my dismay, with a gust of wind and then a huge crash, my friend fell to the ground. Oh dear, I now had a seriously buckled front wheel, disaster ! I had by now acquired my room key, so I unloaded everything from the bicycle, took it all to the room and left it unceremoniously on the floor. The hotel wouldn't allow me bring the Penny inside, so I had to complete the repairs outside in the cold, though thankfully under an archway out of the rain. I turned my steed over and loosened off all of the 72 spokes in the wheel in an attempt to release the tension and re-straighten it.

After undoing then redoing up the spokes for the third time, I regrettably still had a wheel the shape of a figure of eight, added to the fatigue of the days wheeling and footing, with this outcome I was none too pleased. Visions of this being the end of the road for the Penny and I flashed before me, as I knew that to have any chance of making Paris for New Years Eve, the wheel would have to be repaired tonight. I sat in the foyer of the hotel with a cup of steaming coffee in my hands thinking over the problem, then it gratefully came to me, I must remove the rim from the wheel, straighten that first and then respoke the wheel. Later, as I held a bent 50" Penny Farthing wheel rim in my cold hands, while pushing it against a concrete pillar, I wondered what a funny sight I must be to all my friendly fellow guests residing within these walls. When the moment of truth and several crossed cold fingers arrived, I was mightily pleased to find that I once again had a rideable wheel. I had previously hoped to enjoy an early night and be completely recharged for the big push to Paris tomorrow, this wasn't to be, but trust me when I say that I slept soundly. I had covered 29.9 miles, with a maximum speed of 16mph.           

I awoke at 8 o'clock, which was later than I had intended, but I knew that the extra sleep could only do me good. Having reloaded my fairly straight wheel once again, off down the roadway towards Allonne I proceeded. Being New Years eve I suppose I should feel no surprise that I am the only traveller on these back roads while still in the early throws of the day, this is a slight disadvantage to me as when I find myself lost there is no one about to ask for directions. My road having come to a dead end, I lent the wheel against a fine medieval wall which happened to be situated in a convenient location for such a practise. The map consulted I was on my way again wheeling towards the town of Warluis, the road is undulating at this moment but happily I am able to ride the wheel for most of the time without having to foot it on too many occasions. Warluis comes and goes as another beautiful silent place to pass through, only the odd twitching curtain gives any impression of life in the quiet that surrounds me. Wheeling onward through St Sulpice heading for Silly-Tillard, the name of which causes a deal of chuckling from within my person, the road becomes unrideable due to the steep inclination of the land about. I am now forced into a long period of pushing, through the town and off into the farmland and forest that my route requires. It is interesting to note that all the people of Beauvais that I spoke with yesterday told me in no uncertain terms that there was no cycleable route into Paris, only main roads existed and I should take the train for the last part of my journey. In the forest South of Silly, I find myself on a particularly steep road, the effort of the long heavy push allowing me only to make it to the "next" tree or log before stopping for a rest. Every corner you hope will reveal the summit of your way to your wanting eyes, but you know you still have a good distance to travel before relief is to hand. The steps of my shoes bring me to a large switchback which I can recognise from the map, and once negotiated they bring me to the crossing of the D 115. I head straight for Laboissiere, happily once again mounted upon my machine I am able to freewheel down through the forest to the town. At this moment a Lycra clad racing cyclist passes me and gazes with a puzzled look at what he sees, I am sure this particular road has changed very little in a 100 years so who is more out of place? Pushing on to Andeville wheel and foot riding are both used to make progress along the route, fatigue is now letting me know of his presence, so when reaching Esches I sit by the river for a while to eat drink, enjoy the air and try and restore the energy within a little. A happy postwoman gives me a smile as she collects some letters from a nearby box, the effect of which helps spark a little more life back into my legs. I follow now the L'Esches river down to Chambly, which happily gives me a fair amount of good wheeling to enjoy without having to resort to the feet on too many occasions. The evening has drawn in and it has now become dark all about, looking at my map I am quite aware that I still have a long way to travel to make it to Paris today. I am feeling extremely tired, and having not ridden the wheel before in the dark, and also not having any proper bicycle lights to help guide my way, I wonder what course of action to take. I come across a sign for a hotel and slowly foot pedal the wheel up the long forested driveway to the building. Before entering I debated within my mind whether or not staying here would make the trip a failure, as reaching Paris for New Years had always been the goal. Sometimes it is best to take your direction from fate, and this evening fate dictated that the hotel would be full, with this lesson, I mounted my machine, pointed the wheel to Paris, and set off to finish the journey. I reached a cross-roads which I think was around Beaumont Sur Oise, and stopped to have a study of the map, I admit that I didn't really need to inspect it for the route, but it felt that stopping for a rest had a purpose. Here I made the acquaintance of a gentleman who was very keen for me to bring the machine inside his house to show his family. The temptation was very strong indeed, but the thought of then having to leave again into the cold night I knew would be very hard to take, and by now time was beginning to run out. I turned right at the cross-roads and started a very long trudge up into an extremely thick forest, this was now a main road with heavy traffic all about me. Halfway up the roadway within the dense trees, a very pretty girl on a sparkling racing bike drew alongside and asked where I was going. When I explained that I was heading for Paris she tried to convince me that it wasn't now possible to make it in time, she didn't offer me any alternative to my plan, so in the end disappeared off into the night returning to whence she had come. Finally reaching the summit of the forest I was able to mount again, and nearly took a header in the process of this execution, this helped enliven my senses as falling off now in the dark, with many cars and lorries about me, could be viewed as being quite dangerous. The ride down through the trees to the suburbs of the city on the wet road held my attention the whole time, there were no street lights in the forest so I was relying on the illumination coming from the passing cars to guide my safe passage all along the way. When finally emerging into the suburbs proper I realised that I had been quite lucky to immerge unscathed from this part of my travels. I reached Argenteuil, and here crossed the River Seine for the first time, here, witnessing the sight of the waters shimmering like burnished steel in the moonlight, it gave me great satisfaction, as I then knew that I was going to make it to Paris after all. Crossing again at Asnieres I wheeled on under the peripherique at Clichy, and here turned right onto the city's inner ring road, I followed this round counting off the streets until I finally came to the end of the Avenue De La Grande Armee. The road was incredibly busy with cars and coaches until it became total gridlock, here they had closed the road up to the Arc de Triomphe but of course I was able to find a way through and triumphantly rode up to the Arc through the wonderful crowds. I had finally made it, it was 10pm and I felt totally euphoric and exhausted. I now became what seemed like the centre of attention as flash after flash of photos were taken, meeting people from all over the world and posing with them and the wheel for their pictures. It of course had the added bonus that I received more than my fair share of a whole range of celebrity alcoholic drinks, they all sitting on my empty dehydrated stomach in a joyous mixture. When 12 o'clock arrived we all cheered and greeted the new Millennium with the gusto that it deserved, I footed back up to the Arc, as there was no way I could ride now, and met up with some people dressed in Victorian outfits I had spoken to earlier. As the celebrations and night wore on I found myself and the machine leaning against the railings around the Arc De Triomphe, sitting on the panniers over the rear wheel trying to sleep. Through my closed eyes I could see the camera flashes continuously going off, the cold had now overtaken the excitement and I slept in fits until awoken at about 4am by a mini riot going past complete with tear gas and truncheon wielding police. The road cleaners then arrived to try and clean away the sea of broken glass that covered the landscape, because of this I then chose to move as the likelihood of getting hosed down was very high at that moment. Crossing the road I discovered the warm air vents coming up from the Metro system, and sat down upon this heaven of heat. Dozing there for a couple of hours, crossed legged with my back against the wheel, I suddenly felt someone put something in my hand, I opened my eyes to discover 10franc's looking back at me !  I had been taken for a beggar ! The travelling on New Years Eve had taken 12 hours and I had covered for me, the record of 56.2 miles.

I arose and stretched at 9am on New Years Day above what had been my warm berth for the night, I then ventured off towards the Eiffel Tower wheeling down deserted glass filled roads which still lived the feeling of the night before.

Arriving at the Place De Varsovie which is infront of the tower I was captured by a film crew who had me riding up and down for their sights of Paris show, they then did an interview, and had me say something in French before I rode off into the sunset, or should I say off towards the  Louvre.

I crossed the Seine again at the Pont de la Concorde bridge and entered the long open avenue up the Jardin des Tuileries, here I was told off for riding my wheel which I thought was funny. When I was standing studying with admiration the great glass pyramid which stands within the  courtyard of the Louvre I was approached by a fellow showing interest in the wheel.

The friendly fellow who's name I regrettably never acquired offered then to kindly show me around the rest of the Paris sights as he was doing just that himself on this day. My route was to then head north to the Gare Du Nord station to catch the train home, so we led a winding course via the beautiful Notre Dame and the ugly Pompidou centre to the awaiting trains.

Now my friend was rather a timid fellow and with the ticket bought he started to fluster over whether they would let me put the Penny on the train. I explained to him that I would just put it in the carriage anyway and not worry about it, he flustered and said that we must ask the controllers permission first because dire consequences could occur otherwise. Being tired I didn't argue, the controller said no, and my train left without me. The next train wasn't until the evening so the plan was to smuggle the Bicycle onto the Metro in a dismantled state to at least get North of the city. I gradually took the machine apart and broke it down to the smallest items, chains, pedals, sprockets, everything off to try and disguise it a little, this operation acquired the attention of the police who came and pointed their guns, but departed again when I pleaded ignorance. Carrying all of the parts and my kit while rolling the wheel wasn't easy, but down we went to the metro over many a stair without an escalator in sight. Sitting waiting for a carriage to arrive the announcement came over the tannoy that all the trains were cancelled due to a strike by the railwaymen, this meant a very long climb back up to the main station, which I did find quite exhausting. Here now of course they had closed the electronic barriers which had been open when we had previously passed through, owning no ticket for these the game was to wait until no one was looking do a little climbing and pass the whole paraphernalia including the wheel over the top. Returning to the main platform I explained to my friend that as soon as the evening train  arrived I would put all of the parts in the carriage tie them up and go to sleep.

The evening arrived and the plan worked to great satisfaction, I bid farewell to my friend and closed my eyes. Pulling into Calais the time was 11.30pm, I pulled all the parts off of the train and on to a handy trolley and then proceeded to wheel them to a covered part of the station.

At just after 1am I had finished rebuilding the machine, I then discovered that they had locked me in the station and that there was no apparent way out, after wandering about for a while I thankfully came upon a night watchman who helped me cross the tracks and escape out of a back entrance. I wheeled around onto the main road, had a little chat with some amazed people, found a hotel that was thankfully still open, then slept the sleep of the dead.

Returning home I knew that I would never forget the turn of this century, it has been quite an experience I have to say, but I know that I couldn't ride around the world on this bike, it is just too plain heavy. I have now started to build a much simpler, lighter ungeared version for the next adventure.......