Bike to Brussels - Success! An Update

Stephen Rutherdale has cycled from London to Brussels to raise funds for EMMS - thanks, Stephen! Great work.
Here is his report:
"After a quick photo snap in front of Buckingham Palace by some kind but bemused American tourists (“CYCLE to Brussels?”) I waded through the mid evening London traffic, only getting cut up once by a taxi, and out into the suburbs. After a brief stop at a Tesco which became an hour spend going nowhere but through the self service check out queue (10.30pm on Friday is a very popular time to shop in London it seems) I was determined to put the pedal(s) down and race through the night to Dover.

In Dartford I was guided on my way by some very pleasant but even more bemused policemen. I asked where the local 24 Asda was (I had forgotten to get from Tesco what I had intended to – a back light that works) to which they replied, ‘Oh it miles away, at least two and half miles’. I said, ‘That’s aright, I’m going that way to get to Brussels’, to which they made no effort to contain their disbelief. Final supermarket trip out of the way it was full speed (well, 10mph) to Dover.

It was a warm night, which made for comfortable cycling. The sun crept up just after 4am, before I had a quick nap at 5am to allow me to stop cycling as if I’d had too many down at the pub. A quick McDonald’s breakfast (you can tell I’m not a ‘true’ lycra wearing cyclist) went down a treat before the steep decent down the cliffs of Dover to the channel port. Truth be told, I had hoped to make it to the port to catch the 4am boat, but a small miscalculation of distance (both of the route and the Tesco queues) meant I in fact missed that target by 4 hours. Not to worry!

A hour’s sleep later, it was onto the right hand side of the road and through Calais town centre to the wide, flat expanses of northern France. The smooth terrain made for a fast pace and I was soon through the towns of Adres and St Omer. I was very glad of the twisted pair of sunglasses that I had found on a wall in Faversham that morning, as the weather was stunning, the sun high in the sky and temperatures above 30 degrees.

The early afternoon was punctuated by two accidental trips onto the French motorway network (well, you can cycle on ‘A’ roads over here…) which earned a few horn blasts from the French travellers. I thought they were showing their support, until it dawned on me that the ‘A’ stood for ‘Autoroute’, France’s extensive network of tolled motorways. You live and learn.

Generally, some printouts from Google Maps sufficed for directions, except when leaving the larger towns. Once I had the ‘I’ve been here before’ experience, and the second time I had the ‘this isn’t the right way’ experience after going five mile down the road. Fortunately it wasn’t that big a deviation, and I was still able to make it to Lille for 8.30pm, exactly 24 hours after leaving London, 180 miles behind.

Despite seven years of French training at school, the language posed some problems in the hostel. I decided after leaving the next morning that the receptionist would probably have been more amiable had I made no effort to speak the local tongue, rather than insisting in my broken attempts to prove I had learned something in French class. Awakening him at 5am the next morning probably didn’t help.

I had calculated it would take about 9 hours to make it to Brussels from Lille, so hit the road at 6am to ensure I had plenty of leeway to ensure I could catch the 7pm Eurostar train back to London. The weather was glorious once again, with the thermometers hitting 27 degrees at 6.45 in the morning, creeping up to 34 degrees mid afternoon. The early morning went past quickly, as did the miles along the dead-straight road. Through Ath, I was momentarily deafened by some understandably enthusiastic Dutch supporters and their Vevezuala. They my not have been so enthusiastic later that day, especially had they realised I was from that same country as that referee in the World Cup Final…

By midday I was within 25 miles of Brussels, when the first puncture hit. Not a major problem, I was back on the road in 5 minutes, till the same thing happened 5 minutes later. It starts to get worrying when you’re down to your last spare tube, but fortunately pulling a sharp piece of metal out of the tyre solved the problem. Onwards to Halle, and the next McDonald’s stop (its easy to order when it’s the same the world over). Besides, I had no idea what language they were actually speaking here, it seemed to change every 30 miles down the road, a bit like the dialects in Northern Ireland.

Fully sustained on 100% Belgian beef, I zoomed past the local Ikea and into the centre of Brussels. I would love to have something positive to say about city but honestly I can’t think of anything besides its got a direct rail link to London. And I’m normally a positive person. I was delighted to make it there, but that euphoria was quickly shattered by a crash up behind me in parked traffic. How you can cause such damage when going at 2 mph is beyond me.

Having negotiated the local market which conveniently surrounds the International rail terminal (and blocks of all entrances to it, on a Sunday at least) I sat down glad not to have get back on the bike and face the crazy motorists. At which point Christina rang and kindly reminded me I had promised to cycle from Buckingham Palace to the Palais Royale. I’m couldn’t not do the last bit, so it was back on my trusty steed up to the Palace. Well, the gates of the palace and a snippet of view of it between the trees at least.

Job done, it was time to grab a vast quantity of iced tea and the train back to the great city that is London - of which I had just gained a renewed appreciation.

Many thanks to everyone for your support and contribution to the great work of EMMS!