We were awake, predictably, at six in the morning. After a good nights sleep in our double beds, or camping mats if you're name is Matthew or Daniel, interrupted only by a couple of inexplicable explosions at around 2am, we showered under massively huge shower head again and ate porridge; John once more having the privilege of providing us with breakfast, this time cooked on a real stove. We left at 7.20 after having photos taken by John and Moira, who had got up early especially for us, and shot off down Ouvellion's brand, spanking new road at about 30mph. The hill soon climbed again though and we were forced down to a more modest 20mph. I failed to look back once I was at the top of the hill but I'm told by those that did that Ouvellion catches the morning sunshine brilliantly, unfortunately there was no picture taken.

We continued to make good time, for once having the wind on our side and were soon out of Narbonne and into the (poorly maintained) country lanes. We meandered along these for couple of hours, getting lost every so often and encountering the wonders of the weird looking salt lakes - you don't expect a lake to look frozen over in the South of France. Eventually we came to a road with 'no entry' signs staring back at us, so naturally we went down it anyway.

And it was here that I urinated into a bush without dismounting from my bike, the right cleat, in fact, still secured. Now I want everybody to take a moment to themselves - turn off any background music or noise, shut any kids in the other room and appreciate the momentousness of this occasion. The skill I have now mastered, for all went into the bush and none onto the bike, is that of a champion and nothing less.

A long stretch of road tempted us to try and hold 30mph as a team - something we managed for about a minute before we felt our thighs ripping - the tailwind wasn't quite strong enough. The road then opened out into a great view of the lake and we rode alongside, team riding well to keep the speed up and the effort down. After a bit of a hoo-hah with directions; our route and the gps route in the van having different ideas, we met up for our daily croissant stop at the local sewage works - the aroma complimenting the flavour delightfully. Despite the slight hiccup of me and Matthew missing the turning after leaving the works, we continued to progress rapidly, on course to finish the riding by midday.

During the last twenty miles we started to come across more and more cyclists. This sparked a bit of competition, as an old boy who had passed earlier as Matthew and I were waited on, was passed by us as he relieved himself at the side of the rode. He chased us down, soon latching on to Daniel's back wheel at the front of our team. Daniel, being the gentleman he is, let him pass but was not to be left behind and a few minutes later sort to take the lead again, flying past fellow lycra bound individuals like they were standing still as Daniel tried to leave the old boy behind. He couldn't though, so slowed and stopped to wait for the rest of us, his un-overtaken record remaining intact. A concerned Spanish cyclist stopped for a chat, presumably thinking Daniel had a puncture or something, Daniel clearly appreciating the 100mph don't-stop-for-a-breath Catalan Spanish.

Daniel and myself then proceeded to sprint into Saint Cyprien, something we could have kept up for longer than the three miles or so if the traffic had allowed us to swap positions more often. We arrived at the beach at 11.30, having completed 61 miles, one of the best rides in terms of speed of the whole trip so far. We went onto the tourist office, got maps and returned to John, who was perched on top of the van admiring the view. Daniel managed to forget his left from right, taking out the wrong cleat and leaning the opposite way to his free leg, his flailing arm grabbing a strangers foot as he fell.

Upon arrival at the camp site Kevin decided that his 17.9mph average speed wasn't good enough and with the help of myself and Matthew as pace makers, sprinted up and down outside in what turned out to be a vain attempt to reach 18. The campsite was busy so there were several people with great views of us stretching in lycra (plenty of pictures for the weird amongst you), stretching followed as usual by pasta. It started raining so we retreated for a couple of hours into our tents: reading / sleeping / Psping. Matthew and Kevin went and found (fairly expensive) internet, Kevin reporting back that Man Utd were still without a Premiership win, to which we replied with all due sympathy. Someone had also saved over the day ten blog that took Daniel two hours and lasted for four pages - looking on the bright side we've got another excuse for not quite being up to date.

One of the younger lady neighbours kept distracting us, messing about with her half-brother (most definitely brother not boyfriend) and generally being a bit too good looking whilst I was trying to concentrate on my book (is very important, is for school). We had dinner around the tents, pasta based of course, and read the Recorder article as we ate - Bike Europe looks like it now officially has a sequel. There was some lovely loud and badly sung karaoke to lull us to sleep and in no time we were in our tents and recuperating for day nineteen.

Paul

Distance: 66.33 miles
Average Speed: 18.3
Time: 3:36:31
Weather: Clear & Sunny