PBP 2007 Fini

Loudéac (775km) at 8am (Thursday) looks like the day after Woodstock. Tents coming down and roadies loading up the barricades. I take breakfast in the cafeteria with a Frenchman whose not on the ride. I think his wife is working the cafeteria and he's having breakfast on his way to work. I comment that in '03 the night air was perfumed by ripening apples, but not this year. "The rain," he explains. "Hey, I had 'gallettes' in Landerneau—tell me: does one roll them up (like a burrito) and eat them with your hand? Or should one use a fork," I ask?

At the secret control I have a bowl of soup, a cup of coffee and listen to a volunteer play the accordion. Several of us make a lunch stop in a hilltop village. Entering a small grocery, I'm surprised to find they've made room right in the middle of this random store to construct a miniature diorama of PBP complete with little plastic cyclists with helmets and colored jerseys, their backs bent over racing bikes, and another ancient traditional delicacy of Brittany is found: Lait Ribot.

A long climb up the green side of the hill brings us to the hilltop town Bécherel—famous in the 17^th century for fine linens and hemp, but now known as the city of bookstores. A half dozen kids, about twelve years old, have set up a rest stop for us and they scramble to provide us with coffee and cookies, not a grown-up in sight. One doesn't know what to say when an American couple reflects aloud, "You'll have a girlfriend and a a driver's license the next time we bike through here." They're not accepting tips, but the American insists.