10 days in the saddle - by Jason, the Armenian Bullet

Hello World.

A guest post from yours truly, the recently christened Armenian Bullet. (User Guidelines: Only to be fired on the flat or downhill. Performance can be a little shaky and cannot be guaranteed at uphill gradients above 10%).

So.

What an amazing 10 days on the road.

A brutal yet beautiful introductory first day starting in Nice and on through the 1200m summit of the Gorge Du Verdon. This accomplishment set the pace and my expectations of myself for the remainder of the tour. It felt good to prove my fitness on the first day. A quick and early win for the confidence. The guys looked impressed.

The only problem was that come 8pm I couldn't feel my legs.

Yes. No feelings in the legs and despite having consumed 2 croissants, a banana, a peach, 2 foot long baguettes, a quiche, two power bars, one hot chocolate, a packet of dried fruits, peanuts and 4 litres of water - I was starving beyond measure.

Having devoured a pizza for dinner, that night I fell asleep to the sound of my own snoring. I can't deny it.

No sleep ins, no late departures; showered and up and at'em on the road by 8.30am each morning looking for breakfast. Pain au raisin and coffee. Oh Pain au raisin! How you lifted our spirits with your devilishly smooth custard filing and manly size. I miss you.

Now. Let's talk about Charlie's beard. Have you seen it?

I'm not saying its the thickest, densest wildest omnidirectional gorse bush of a beard I've ever encountered, BUT....yes I am. Its mental. It's the kind of environment where one would find a family of slow loris dwelling in the undergrowth. A majestic Amazonian wonder of such unparalleled abundance that it makes Chewbakka look like an over hyped man suit of bum fluff. He must have been drinking Spinach and concrete mix before going to bed each night. To be fair I couldn't hear, I was snoring.

Cycling on the hard shoulder of a motorway is not for the faint hearted. Nor is crossing a five lane motorway doing one fifth the speed of passing traffic. Often unavoidable and at once foreboding, these were typically the hours we spent toiling in Spanish headwinds getting some distance under our belt. Head down and getting the job done. Flags flying. Always.

My uncle wisely one said, those who choose to ride the tiger cannot dismount at will. So it went with our cycling challenge; there was little option but to push through, often with very little daylight left to find ourselves a campsite. It was just the right side of edgy to be enjoyable. I imagine a bit like living in Brixton.

And No. My uncle wasn't in the circus.

For the most part, we were utterly spoilt with beautiful landscape in both France and Spain.From zipping through treelined boulevards and past countless old Chateaus in Provence, to taking on numerous Cols and hills as we zig zagged down the coast line and over the Pyrenees into Spain. A visual feast for the eyes and all the better to take our minds off the sheer physicality of our undertaking. Cycling uphill for hours on end is hard work. Add 20kg of weight and you have a profuse sweat on your hands. But once you hit the downhill it was all worth it - nothing like a 60km downhill speed to get the blood flowing.

Referred to by locals as the "bike of the Capitalist", my machine got her fair share of looks from admiring on lookers throughout the trip. Unfortunately, so did I, during my several stacks onto the tarmac. A stack being a complete sideways collapse onto the road, with both legs still clipped into the pedals. Yes. It really did look as ridiculous as it sounds.

The best part is when your friends re direct traffic to get a better position in the road to take a photo of you.

Charlie's Welsh flag also won a popularity contest, pulling in conversations and interest wherever we went, often accompanied with moments of kindness and compassion as complete strangers handed us donations. It was great to see and a reminder of our capacity as human beings to reach out to each other through acts of sympathy and kindness.

And to your kindness, support and donations - for my small part in this adventure, thank you. I completed 1100km in 9 days of cycling. I'm proud of my achievement and proud to have been part of this special journey with Charlie and Cheeks. Being able to complete such an enjoyable and rewarding challenge with friends is one for the Grandchildren.

To Charlie and Cheeks. Your work in the saddle over the past few months is an inspiration. £8,000 raised and over 4000km cycled. Really very well done.

And so farewell blog friends. I leave you many pounds lighter and even more smitten with cycling than when I first started the tour. Great memories from raising money for a great cause. Rock on.

AB.

(PS. Armenia is a land locked country between Turkey, Georgia, Azerbaijan and Iran. A big Shout Out to my diasporic brothers we chanced upon during the trip. Fly that flag!)