The Two VERY Hungry Caterpillars

The Short Story
The story begins with two young men embarking on a trip fuelled by food and fuelled by the desire to need food. You maybe well acquainted with The Very Hungry Caterpillar story, and this story is very much synonymous with our own. 
Our trip as a short story would read;
Day 1 - Burger King, Indian curry
Day 2 - Massive steak, and junk food
Day 3 - French Breakfast, Pain-au-chocolat, Baguette with fromage and jambon
Day 4 - Pain-au-chocolat, Baguette with fromage and jambon x 3
Day 5 - Pain-au-chocolat, Baguette with fromage and jambon x 3
Day 6 - Pain-au-chocolat, Baguette with fromage and jambon x 3

                                  Andy with The Very Hungry Caterpillar


Day 7 - Pain-au-chocolat, Baguette with fromage and jambon x 3
Day 8 - Pain-au-chocolat, Baguette with fromage and jambon x 3
Day 9 - Pain-au-chocolat, Baguette with fromage and jambon x 3 - Much like the hungry caterpillar we got stomachache as we physically could not eat the amount of food we needed
Day 10 - Pain-au-chocolat, Baguette with fromage and jambon x 2, Hot Dog at Inca Burger 
Day 11 - McDonalds € 1 chicken burger x 3
Day 12 - McDonalds € 1 chicken burger x 3
Day 13 - McDonalds € 1 chicken burger x 3
Day 14 - Pain-au-chocolat, Baguette with fromage and jambon x 2 - we then sat in a chrysalis state until our butterfly flew us back to England

How it began

Prologue 

During a period when we both should have been revising hard, we were chatting on Facebook and Andy came up with the idea of doing a bike ride for charity. We decided Barcelona sounded like a plausible distance and we would discuss it after we came back from university. With exams done the "planning" started guessing we may cycle an average of 12-15 mph it was calculated we could get there in 10 days, just in case we were wrong (a strong likelihood) we gave ourselves 14 days.

The training began and a short cycle pretty much around the block left me quite tired but not deterred. And after seemingly persuading Andy's dad that we could endeavour on such a task we booked up the ferry and flights. We both then went on holiday shortly before we left which, kind of, left us in doubt whether we would be fit enough or not. By the time it came around to leaving we had only practised cycling about 60 miles and with no added weight (considering we would have to do at least 100 miles per day and an extra two stone in luggage). So it would seem we were inadequately prepared but none the less we felt ready!

Flitton/Greenfield to Oxford

So weary eyed and bushy tailed, I set off from my house to Andy's with dad, leaving mum looking worried, concerned and nervous. Got to Andy's and he was trying to phone the bank... if his organisational skills and timing are this mistimed then it would be a surprise if there would be a ferry waiting for us in Portsmouth!

Anyway with the photo opportunity done, it was time to set off, and jeez the bikes felt completely unbalanced - the front light and manoeuvrable - the back clumsy and wobbly. Laughing at our stupidity at not trying out the weight beforehand stopped quickly, as I noticed how out of breathe I had become, and this was only a mile into the trip up a relatively shallow short gradient hill! In my head all I could think was how Barcelona seemed an immeasurable distance away.

Now its time to get lost, not you, us. Not even leaving our own county, in Leighton Buzzard, we ended up cycling  down a one-way, dead end street... This I fear may have been me directing, but a little old dear was walking by and she pointed us in the right direction. So now feeling fairly tired and in the knowledge we could get lost anywhere our Barcelona trip felt futile.

Now on roads I recognised from trips to my Aunties house we thundered through Aylesbury stopping at Thame for a well deserved Burger King. This I promised to Andy would be our staple diet throughout the trip, which no doubt got a mixed response. The attack of the wasps! I strongly recommend NOT drinking fizzy orange drinks as the little vespa buggers blooming love it and along with this we were wearing our fluorescent orange shirts. So spent most of the time running away from thousands of wasps determined to have my drink.

                    Before the wasps smelt the nectar of sugary drinks 

Cracking on with the rest of the journey we got to my Aunties house much more promptly than we had anticipated. Even whilst encountering some random girl driver very irk because I was too busy ringing my bell shouting "get out of my way I'm king of my bike" and had drifted across the road. We finished the night by eating an Indian curry, watching some family guy and having a lovely warm shower, nice. Though we knew this would be the end of the luxury, so we have to give many thanks to my Aunt Jilly and Uncle Tony for looking after us this night.

Route taken, through Leighton Buzzard, Aylesbury, Thame, to North Moreton 

The Worst Day EVER - Oxford to Portsmouth

"Welcome them to cycling hell", was clearly the message that was sent by a messenger to Zeus and Thor.

The day started off wet, cold and windy, but nothing "major." And after just watching some ridiculous film about Greek monsters or something that Andy likes, with a main character that was a skeleton and could only say brrrrrrrrrrrr, we were in good spirits.

It rained

It was windy

It was cold

There may be a common theme with this day....

and the same three elements repeated themselves throughout the day.

We finally made Basingstoke, and took a left turn onto a dual carriageway, exited at a junction and then found ourselves to be completely lost. After aimlessly cycling around some suburban part of Basingstoke asking numerous people, some builders gave us fairly decent instructions. But they said them with that look, which makes you think "are you just trying to have us on", but we knew no better and finally found our way to the other side of Basingstoke. Looking at the map now I realise I took us the wrong direction initially, I can only attribute this to not having a clear head, due to the fact (anonymous person I probably shouldn't mention in name so a pseudonym in anagram form Balm Gleamy will have to suffice) lives here and I was thinking about how I hated her.

The weather surprise surprise had not improved and continued to be a menace, at this stage we still hadn't eaten so were pretty desperate for some food. Sign read "Good Food, Next Left" Ahhh The Pheasant Inn, brilliant we can eat and dry and be warm go to the toilet everything a normal person would like. Ohh you're closed, you should see my face now I'm still not impressed.

Now we were desperate and found a garden centre near Alton which promised food, but could not deliver. Now in Alton a pub with a sign - All Day Food, "sorry we are not serving till 6" but she was attractive and considering we had spent most of the day looking at each others bums we settled down with a coke and crisps.

Continued on with our journey and went down a fairly steep hill, and noticed we were slowing down due to the severity of the wind, so had to pedal downhill! At the bottom was a pub called The West Meon, and hip hip hooray it was serving food! And with lovely bar staff and a decent sized piece of steak and chips we relaxed in relative style.

Final push to Portsmouth, the light had dropped and it was dusk, using the last ounces of strength we made it first to Waterlooville and then by the saving grace to Portsmouth harbour, with about 30 mins until the ferry departed.

Whilst waiting in the queue we met one other cyclist and he was going to Barcelona too, he was 22 (can't remember his name it was something posh like Tarquin or Rupert). He, like us, was planning on getting there in 10 days but was going along the coast which was much further, good luck to him (I think he definitely needed it judging by his bike). After a swift beer in the ferries bar, we went to our cabin and got some much needed sleep.          

Route through Basingstoke, Alton, Waterlooville and finally to Portsmouth Harbour

First day in France - Caen to Mayenne

Courtesy of the ferry company Andy had chosen we were awoken by the most terrible racket I have come across in my life, not only was the alarm tediously annoying (playing some Irish-cum-Zelda music) it went on for around 10 minutes! Yes alright we are up! So with around 3 hours of pretty poor sleep, with our cabin decimated by wet muddy clothes we wearily got up.

The brisk morning (7am) air of Caen (or technically Ouistreham) met us as we disembarked from the ferry, and the excitement of being on the continent could begin. The first concerns was food, but this was shorty changed when the first argument came about. I had looked online and had found a cycle route that went along the river into the centre of Caen, but all the other cyclists (it was apparent there were a few more on board) had followed the flow of motor traffic. Andy said we should do what they are, like sheep. Luckily I won this round and we had a non-traffic, flat and relatively tranquil cycle to the centre of Caen.

Now for the first incident, which could prove fatal (in bike terms). A group of elderly people crossing a zebra crossing, I slammed on the brakes, Andy close behind me does the same but his panniers swing into his spokes causing a dramatic skid (on closer inspection his spokes were bent, hopefully they'll be alright!). Hunger now becoming the best of us we managed to find a newsagents/cafe and had our first piece of ham of the trip - a luxury I hear you ask? - later instalments will tell you otherwise!

Now using a map that we were using the whole trip (showed Portsmouth to Barcelona i.e. not particularly detailed) we skipped off pavements in order to go the way we needed avoiding one-way systems and getting pretty much completely lost. A stop at a supermarket revealed to me how difficult it was going to be for me to walk around hard, shiny floors. As the shoes I had were clip-in shoes for the bikes pedals and they stuck out meaning I had no grip when walking and made a very conspicuous clunking noise - oh joy. Eventually and probably more fortuitously a directional sign read Evrecy. Looking on the map it was south of Caen it wasn't Clecy (a more direct southern route out of Caen) but it'll do!

Now we practised on hills, but this has to be one of the longest gradual gradient hills I've ever come across. At Evrecy the joke about Andy needing l'infirmerie (the old joke being "I need the krankenhaus") seemed evident as we stopped for some cough medicine. Our journey carried on smoothly and we stopped again in a town called Aunay-sur-odon to get some directions from the Tourism Office just to make sure we were going the correct way. This town was at the foot of a very steep hill that went up and up and up, part way just outside a farm my clip-in shoes got stuck and I had to wrench it out. After a bodge job fix on one of my shoes we carried on until we reached such a height telecoms towers were along side us! With views looking across what seemed the whole of France.

Now finally for some downhill action, being about 1pm and many hard hours of cycling behind us, we were starving. Pulling up into a town Conde-sur-Noireau we scoured it for food places, finding an Pizzeria that was open everyday except Wednesday... the day of course being Wednesday. But there was a bakery nearby where we got a baguette et fromage et jambon sandwich and some coke. We sat on a churches steps eating the much needed food and due to it being nice and hot and sunny, we laid down and kipped in the sun.

The journey continued with the town of Domfront being a highlight. A medieval town built on a stand-out hill with high defensive walls, the road travelled through the centre of the town under castle bridges, very exquisite.

          Cycling through Domfront - castle walls can be seen in the background


We now encountered our first straight road, and we couldn't believe it. It wasn't just how straight it was, it was the fact once we made a peak of the undulating road you could then see three more peaks. This seemed to go on and on, like an elongated sound wave. Finally however we made the outskirts of the town Mayenne, found a small campsite charging about 7 euros per night. After setting up the tent I fell asleep outside and apparently snored for a good hour, something Andy would have to get used to!! And after settling down inside the tent we eventually drifted off to the chatter of some boozed up French builder-esc men.

          Route taken through Aunay-sur-odon, Flers, Domfront to Mayenne

Motorway Fever - Mayenne to Angers

Casually woke up at 11am, due to much needed sleep after lack of it on ferry and long day of cycling the day before. Surprisingly the drunkards next to us had already left so was probably time for us to start the day too!     Looking on the map the distance just beyond Angers looked plausible, so with our sights set, we quickly had a breakfast of pain-au-chocolat and a can of coke. After just about navigating our way through Mayenne we cycled fairly steadily to the town of Laval.

The road entering Laval we had a few cars beeping at us, which we presumed were just nutty French loonies being annoying... Again as in many French town we took a few wrong routes and decided to follow signs to La Gare (train station), so we could find our bearings and find town maps which the French helpfully have in every place. Around the station we found a Brasserie which looked inviting, Andy went in to see the menu and translate it for me. Whilst he did this an old man slowly pondered up to me; he looked at the bikes, looked at me, smiled, and started chirping away in French. My only response I felt was to ask "parlez-vous Anglais?," this though either fell on deaf ears (likely due to his age) or he just wanted to torment me further, as he persisted, I presume, to ask me questions. After giving him many blank faces and probably looking quite scared he mumbled and wondered off. At this point Andy came back, I asked if parlez-vous Anglais actually meant "do you speak English?", which he confirmed. Food was a burger with no bun and fries and Andy had some rice dish. Due to the heat at this stage I had to squeeze around the table into the shade as it was bordering an inferno in the sun light.

                        Andy sitting at our table at the Brasserie in Laval

          Our bikes resting up in Laval, I think the geriatric liked them...


After eating we set off to try and find the road out of Laval to Angers. Getting into the centre of the town, next to a river which had some very picturesque bridges, we realised we did not have a clue where we were. So Andy with his "French" asked a lady for directions to Angers, she nattered on and smiled and left. So I asked Andy what did she say, "something about left, then a right" was pretty much his response. But by following the initial way she pointed down the river. We eventually found some signage to Angers, and at this point Andy got a bit irk with his panniers. So we pulled over for some bodging. Giving a piece of guy rope to Andy and one for myself, I fastened my panniers so they wouldn't wobble. Once finished I went over to Andy (who I would like to remind you has a degree in engineering and currently doing a masters in engineering) whom had attempted some feeble pathetic knot thing, :) don't hate me Andy! So I did his as well and we set off for pretty much the last leg of the day.

Not too much to report for this stretch, other than it had very straight roads, which we cruised along at a good speed (probably something like 30 kmph). We came across a McDonalds in Chateau-Gontier, which I persuaded Andy to go to. And clearly not realising how hungry we were quite a few burgers were consumed along with some cupcakes.

So back on the straight roads again, but now the closer and closer we got to Angers the bigger and the increase in traffic was fairly obvious. It was about 5pm so probably a lot of rush-hour traffic. At a roundabout just outside Angers we followed the signs for the centre of Angers. I don't think it took long to realise that we had cycled onto a motorway... looking at the map now I can see its the Nantes-Paris route. But things got worse, further down the motorway we had to cycle down a contraflow, which is why it was the fastest I have ever cycled because I didn't want to be on this road for another second! But things got even worse as we relied on cycling in the hard shoulder and this one had a lot of chippings from a nearby chalk pit and then the hard shoulder became dilapidated and we were cycling through grass, soil, broken up pieces of tarmac. It was just awful. So at the nearest, first, closest junction we pulled off. This, by chance, happened to be in quite a good place, not that we knew that to start with as it just looked like a random industrial estate. But we soon found signs to a campsite and after a call to Dad we decided to go to it.

It was quite a pricey campsite, but it had a restaurant, swimming pool, nice showers and toilets, so we were happy. Annoyingly Andy forgot to pack swim trunks, and I didn't want to endeavour to go into the pool with the borrowed Speedo's I got from Dad! So instead we had a nice big beer and a big pizza each. Not too bad an end considering we had just risked life and limb on the motorways.    

Route taken through Laval, Chateau-Gontier to Angers - Les Ponts-de-Ce was were we wanted to get to

It's only a bit further mate! - Angers to Coulon

Well it seems what I learnt in A-level psychology about only remembering chunks of information at the start and end of a sequence is true, as this part of the journey is somewhat hazy. But then Miller (1992) said you can remember 7 +/- 2 chunks of information, and our trip should be 10 days, so I should just about remember the whole trip! Bear with me!

As we were suppose to make Les Ponts-de-Ce the day before, we got up early to make up the ground. Alas after chugging up a hill, at the top, it was decided the route didn't look right, so we turned back around. Now back at the campsite, we found a cycle route that went down to the river we needed to go along. This seemed nice, pleasant and no road traffic, but as with all things it wasn't going to go our way. And after a short while we found the path turned from asphalt to gravel-cum-mud. Ah. So this wasn't the way either. So back up the hill we had already done. Now successfully navigating our way to Ponts-de-ce, we found it would have been good to make this town. It was situated on an eyot, and had a large traditional market. With no time for sentiments, we cracked on through Ponts-de-ce, trying desperately not to accidentally follow a slip-road down on to the motorway (after what happened the day before!).

At the town of Beaulieu-sur-layon, hunger caught up with us and a cheeky stop at a Spar shop with the standard can of coke, baguette, cheese and ham the order of the day. Sitting in a bus-shelter, we watched the sky turning increasingly black. Due to this we saw it best to move on fairly quickly as the clouds would stay "behind" us if we could go faster than them.

Now luckily before we set off from the campsite we had written down a few obscure place names as just-in-case my map showing only large towns and cities wasn't going to be sufficient. And guess what those place names were hugely useful as my map was becoming more of a hindrance than a helpful navigational tool! The roads between Beaulieu-sur-layon and Vilhiers were fantastic, with few cars and chamfered corners twisting and meandering through harmonious vineyards, making it a very gratifying cycle.

After going through Vilhiers, the roads straightened and ish flattened out, so we put the pedal to the metal (the shoe to the pedal? not quite the same) and bombed along, moving in and out of each others slipstreams making great progress. At Argenton-les-vallees, I suppose its kind of in the name, it went down into a deep valley and steeply back out. Now decidedly famished and having promises on billboards of an upcoming MaccyD, our tummies rumbled and we tried to get to Bressuire as quickly as possible. Grrr the billboards eventually told us where the MaccyD was and it certainly wasn't in Bressuire, so just had to hope these French townsfolk weren't all on sabbaticals.

Well the billboards were back, showing promise of cornucopia in Bressuire. So we hastily cycled down some steep slopes to a hypermarket. And you've probably guessed it - ham, cheese and baguette - which we ate standing around in some large grubby carpark. There was a cafe inside, but apparently French people eat at aberrant times so he could only offer us some hogwash. As the food excursion took us on a bit of a detour, we had to guess where we came from/ the direction we needed to go in order to get back en route. Trying to memorise a map just outside the hypermarket. The only road I could and still can remember was Rue de Bel-Air, because it reminded me of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.. sorry strange sidetrack I know!

As fas as I can remember we had a fairly decent cycle to Coulonges-sur-l'Autize, where we came across a load of little brats on their hairdryer scooters and then the worst campsite known to man. I won't describe it because it makes me unhappy, but I would go as far as saying it was the equivalent to purgatory. So a phone call to Dear Pater, told us there was a campsite in Coulon. So talking to Andy I said we could go to another campsite, which I told him was just up the road. When he asked how far "just up the road" is it, I thought it best to lie and said it was about 10km. It was actually over 20km, but it was the end of the day, the sun was setting and we had cycled pretty hard. So the lie was needed to encourage us to just go for it. After about 5km there was a sign to where we were going which read something like 18km, Andy saw this and didn't look too impressed! But we were still cycling well and even overtook a vehicle, ok it was a tractor, but still.

Finally we got to Coulon and rocked up to the campsite which was signposted. But we had just missed the opening hours as it closed at 7, and we were there just after. But again a call to papa revealed we had gone to the wrong campsite, and there was still another 2km to the other campsite! So we ponderously cycled to this campsite and was treated to some great scenery. The area was like a green Venice, with lovely clean still canals, with willow trees hanging over and little punting boats moored along the banks. This was the most expensive campsite we went to about 25 euros, but we had made good progress so I suppose it was worth it and we didn't have to stay with the imps and gremlins of the other campsite.

     Our little green Venice - Photo at Coulon. Taken the next morning hence it being light and sunny!
              

                         Route taken from Angers to Coulon via Bressuire