PBP 2007 Fini

He points us off in the right direction for the "OLD N137," but we still cannot find it and another car stops. "Follow me," the driver advises. We follow to a small path, then we follow him down the path…farther…okay already! Pedalling up alongside to tell him we don't need him to escort us all the way to Rennes—look, your wife is probably waiting for you at home with supper, but he says no, he's already phoned his wife. She's bringing the station wagon to carry the bikes and we'll ride with him to Rennes.

At Rennes, they take us to the station and accompany us inside to help with checking in. It turns out there are no more trains to Paris tonight, so they gather three station employees to explain our options for trains in the morning. But, those are TGVs—are bikes permitted? Normally no, but they're adding extra baggage cars for PBP. Nikolai needs to call Lazar.

We checked into the Ibis, briefly met another American, a South African and the same two Swedish randonneurs that I'd photographed in Brest. First shower in three days, but no clean clothes. Nikolai needs to call Lazar, but we can't make international calls from the room. The front desk finds a charger that will fit Nikolai's phone and he reaches Irina in Bulgaria. Apparently when he had abandoned in Tinténiac, he phoned Irina who would contact Lazar when he finished so that Lazar could drive Chavdar's car to Tinténiac to pick up Nikolai. Okay, now I get it. The next morning we have a late breakfast and take the TGV to Paris. Other randonneurs spoke of piling into the "PBP refugee train", but we must've been to late for all that—we only saw a couple other bikes. At Montparnasse we need to change to the RER for Trappes. Going for a snack at the station—this place has Yop! I'd hoped to sustain my energy during PBP on Yop, but hadn't found any on the ride. Nikolai says "No Good!" and proceeds to educate me on the European "E number" system for food labeling. E100-E199 are artificial colours, E200-E299 are preservatives, etc… The doctor treating me for my motor nerve problems wants me taking only organic foods. Reluctantly I put the Yop back and grab a bag of mixed nuts ignoring the imagined voice of my doctor saying, "Roasted? Roasting destroys all the nutrients!"