PBP 2007 Fini

Approaching Loudéac (450km) in a light cold rain after midnight, surprisingly several dozen bikes are seen parked at the train station—could they be abandoning? They're logically at least an hour ahead of me, as the recumbents and tandems started at 9:30pm. No available beds in Loudéac, but that was no surprise—They were full in 2003 also. So, a visit is paid to the cafeteria to eat a plate of green beans and potatoes seated at the single remaining empty chair at a table with eight German cyclists. No need to think of the German phrase for, "May I take this seat," as they were all sound asleep. Surprisingly, I'm really not that sleepy. I drop a contact lens and waste a lot of time crawling around on the floor after it—I was worried this would happen as I've been plagued with a lot of motor nerve damage over the last couple years and contact lenses have become difficult to deal with, even when I haven't been riding twenty-six hours with only 1:15 sleep.. There's a lot of cyclists sleeping against the walls in every hall way and even outside under the overhang. Too wet and cold for me, I'd rather pedal.

Just then, a familiar face— J.D. Stewart, who is also game for striking out toward Carhaix and grabbing an hour's sleep there. Great! Let's catch another hour's snooze at Carhaix—we should be there around dawn, perfect! "Wes, Byron and them are getting ready to get up. They're over there in the back of that truck," J.D. informs me. Great, I'll go throw the doors open and yell something in faux French about trespassing and les Gendarmes, but I blew it—didn't get the flashlight shining into their faces quick enough. The "trespassers" intended to eat here before riding, so J.D. and I set out together, but immediately became separated in the dark—too many bike taillights to figure out which was J.D..