Arras to Saint-Quentin 62KM
Crossing the Low Countries was all in all a sullen experience, the weather was bleak, the route flat and featureless and no birds sang.

We were reminded of the poems of the First World War, especially those of Wilfred Owen;

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge

Yeah it was a bit like that only we had to put up with articulated lorries too which is a little disconcerting especially when you’re stoking up the hard shoulder on a rowing machine - and on the wrong side of the road.

Everywhere we saw evidence of the aftermath of war and this is sixty years on. The post war look is definitely not a good look. It’s almost impossible to imagine the utter desolation, fear and excitement created by war. The knowledge that if you did nothing then you’d be overrun but the knowledge that in doing something, someone was going to lose a son, daughter parent, sister. It’s futile and the thought of futility is not a good thought when you’re trying to get somewhere.

Albert Camus, Andre Gide and de saint Exupery grasped at the meaning of life; why are we here? What’s it all about? Is there something else? We were beginning to think the same thoughts and then we arrived in Cambrai.

Cambrai a town like a beautiful child with a mouth full of broken teeth.

Perhaps famous only for the battle of Cambrai which took place in November and December 1917 and where tanks were used ‘successfully’ for the first time, the town was hammered in two world wars. Smashed and devastated it took a long time to recover… it’s still recovering.

Atop the town hall stand two automatons; Martin and Martine, they strike the hours with a hammer as a reminder of a mighty blow which was struck in the name of freedom. Partly allegorical, part fact and part fiction, the hammer blow for freedom is a poignant reminder once again that this area bore the brunt of some of the heaviest bombing of WW2.

It’s not all doom and gloom though. We were also reminded of a top bloke; Louis Bleriot who as any fule kno was the first man to fly the English Channel. In fact he did it exactly 100 years ago in 1909. He was born in Cambrai and like us saw a challenge and went for it. He won £1000 which I’m reliably informed was a lot of money in those days.

Back to the rout and as Ant pulled us along in his slip stream, we variously biked, swam, rowed and jogged into Saint-Quentin.

Saint-Quentin is twinned with Rotherham. 80% of its buildings were flattened in WW2, in the mid 1970’s it’s textile industry which had survived since the Middle Ages struggled to survive the onslaught from foreign competition and more or less disappeared. Its beautiful Basilica was virtually destroyed by aerial bombing and it suffered immense destruction during its period of resistance on the Hindenburg line.

God it was a depressing day. The fatigue was not so much creeping up on us as draining our very essence. We were, cold, wet, miserable and spent. It could only get better. Tomorrow we were heading for Rheims… and the Jackdaw.

Next up...

Next up was Phil, read all about his hair raising route in tomorrow’s diary of the Crewe Creatives’ Charity Charge to Crete - or CCCCC for short.