PBP 2019: It's much nicer here

Conversations quoted below were originally conducted in French; they're retold from memory here, and written in English.🗣🇫🇷

As Tuesday evening turned to full night inbound from Loudéac I was feeling tired-but-quite-good, in that Rando sort of way.

I'd started off the day in fine form at 5:30am Tuesday morning outbound from Carhaix-Plouguer, en route to Brest, after a lovely night's sleep at a little bed & breakfast. For Tuesday night, the plan from the get-go had been to wing it, whether sleeping at a control, taking "ditchnaps," or happening upon some gracious soul's yard or barn. I was looking for the classic PBP experience Tuesday night!

At about 200 miles in on the day I was approaching Quédillac. It was the 10pm hour, but since I was feeling good (hey, it's relative!) I was quite sure that I could keep my momentum through to Tinténiac only about 17 miles farther down the course before sleeping. Why not strike while the iron was hot, and wake up that much closer to Paris? (Er, Rambouillet?)

Quédillac was not a control proper -- no timestamp-on-card done here -- but the site hosted a full set of event services. My supplies were in good shape, too, so I had no reason whatsoever to stop at Quédillac.

Even though I was 100% certain that no check-in was required, the last thing I wanted to do was make an error due to bad memory -- let's just say that I was 99% certain that no check-in was required.

I rolled up to the entrance to do a realty check with a volunteer there at the side of the road:

"This is not a control, right?" ~ "No, this is not a control." 

"No stamp?" ~ "No stamp."

"Ok, thank you very much! I will continue to Tinténiac to sleep."

Then the volunteer said:

"It's much nicer here than in Tinténiac. You should sleep here."

Whoa wait what? Huh? Why's that? But I have a plan! Why is the volunteer saying this?

The mind races. Look, Greg, you have a plan. It's to press on. Get it done...but wait! Your personal policy is to always go with PBP volunteers' suggestions if at all possible, since they're doing their best to look out for you. Each and every one of them wants you to succeed, and they're there to help.

What does this volunteer know that I do not? How much nicer could one gymnasium be than another? I came back with:

"I'm feeling pretty good, probably I should continue on."

The volunteer continued his line:

"You'll get to Tinténiac and there won't be any spaces left for you, and it really is much nicer here. Come! Let me show you."

Ok, my policy is to go with the flow. Let's check it out!

The Quédillac volunteer proceeded to give me a tour of all of the accommodations. First he walked me (and my bike) over to the bike parking, and found a spot for my bike. Our tour continued with the canteen, under fancy, enclosed tents, where he showed me the lovely array of food. We continued into the main building, past the restrooms and into the gym.

The mood lighting was on point: plenty dark enough to aid sleep for most people, but lit up enough for most folks to make their way around without bumping into things.

And it was warm. Ohhhh-so-warm. Wait -- had I been cold? That gymnasium was comfy-warm, sit-by-the-fire warm, hot-chocolate-on-a-rainy-day warm.

Rows of lovely mattresses were arranged on a grid across the entire gymnasium floor, each sleeping station with a lovely blanket and a convenient plastic-and-metal stackable institutional chair -- and the whole place at only maybe one third occupancy.

Oh -- and showers right there, too.

"I am convinced. I will stay!"

The volunteer was so pleased, his mission accomplished. :)

I popped back out to my bike to get the sparse subset of my belongings that I'd want to access there at my stop (jersey, shorts, USB battery, etc.) and headed back to the canteen tent for a lovely meal of pasta, crêpe, and warm milk -- plus some bananas-to-go for later:

I took a wonderful shower in the gym (yeah, usually I dislike that probably more than most people, but Rando changes you!), got dried off and dressed in some clean clothes, and made my way to the sleeping area check-in desk. I was assigned a numbered bed, and asked for my wake-up time. (I can't remember precisely, but it was likely around 4am or 5am.)

I took stock of my things as I prepared to settle into bed in the symphony of snoring that filled the gymnasium. I plugged my phone into the charing battery and set an alarm just in case. I placed my "for tomorrow" bananas on the floor next to the bed, as I know that one can wake from hunger during these events, and I wanted something easy to grab so that I could scarf it and get back to sleep.

I also draped the previous day's tired synthetic SFR jersey on the back of my sleep station's chair to let it air out overnight before it spent the next day trying to get all funky, crammed in my saddle bag.

I slept fairly well for some hours, but found myself more awake than asleep in the 3am hour; might as well call it a wrap and head on down the road to what lies ahead.

Ok, get things packed up...alright, my bananas...wait, one banana? Hey -- why is my second banana right there next to my neighbor's mattress? It's still within reach, but no way I put it there when I went to sleep!

Was it actually my banana, though? What are the odds that it wasn't? Maybe it's "great Rando minds think alike" -- but, no, I bought two bananas in the canteen. Er, ok...maybe one of my bananas had been unintentionally kicked in the night? Who knows; I scooped them both up and put them into my little bag.

Gather the clothes: Wait -- where's my jersey?!? The jersey that I had specifically draped over the chair to let dry?

Vanished; nowhere to be found.

Ok, cut my losses: at least I'll have one thing fewer to schlep down the road, and maybe it'll make a nice memento for someone. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I got out to my bike in the damp night air. I transferred my overnight gear back into my bike bags, including my...three bananas. Ack! I am a banana thief!! I must have placed one by my mattress and the second in my bag...having stolen the third from my sleeping neighbor!

In the end, wherever my jersey ended up, instant karma had left me down one jersey and up one banana.

I made my way to Tintinéac before dawn, and was becoming drowsy in the wee hours; I definitely needed to lie down for ten or fifteen minutes to refresh before riding off into the breaking morning. (Another one of my policies is to NOT ride drowsy!)

Tintinéac was a mess, with overflowing people sprawled out everywhere on the concrete floor of the big building lobby. I got a bit refreshed from a few minutes of restless shuteye on the cold, hard floor, and then made my way into the breaking day.

It really had been much nicer in Quédillac.

This derivative artwork courtesy of Irving Pham.