All done:

Finally arriving in St Tropez, the last day was a short ride - with predictable hills thrown in: we've come to expect those!

826 miles, 39823 feet of climb, seven cyclists, 3 helpers, myriad memories and tales. Fun from the moment we left to the end - greeted by a welcome group of friends and family and a truly earned food and drink blow out.

Casualties? The BMW remains lonely in a delership in St Etienne - visited just once by Alan Bretherton a he picked up the missing passports and directed the garage to the white envelope cloaked in a shroud of invisibilty in the glovebox (the garage resolutely refuse to inspect the vehicle without the documentation).

Weary limbs from over a quarter of a million pedal revolutions and 60 hours saddle time.

The Somme, the Seine, Loire, Ardeche and Rhone all followed - the Massif Central, Alpes Maritime and countless other hills complete, and still smiling.

Bretherton, Brookes and Margaret Oakley also made a huge contribution to the ride - tirelessly shepherding, caring and pointing the team.

Eales - birthday boy and sometime hedgehog whisperer; Brown - rarely lifting his eyes from the Garmin Navigator, strangely dressed in a pale green suit aquiring the nickname 'Ho Ho Ho Ho - Green Giant'!; Oakley - unfeasibly afraid of heights yet driving hard up every climb, avoiding swooping birds of prey stalking his hairpiece; Pagliaro - hoisting his shorts to Borat mankini tribute and not at all looking gay in the process, his mapreading trumping conflicting garmin data; Cocksedge - like a Duracell bunny maintaining speed and rhythm whether up or downhill; Saenger - completing his grasp of Anglo saxon idiom and dialect, including the subtext of flatulence; McNulty - modsty prevents me advising you of his amazing compendium knowledge of the works of Monkhouse, Cryer and Allen - tirelessly leading the spirits of the team to ascent.

Breteherton - rapidly coming to first name terms with the AA and Mondial assistance teams, cooly dealing with frustrating manana timescales; Brookes - one man car scrappage scheme with unending good humour (though heavy eyelids often told of mounting Armagnac dependence); Margaret Oakley - our Mother Theresa and conscience, somehow surviving 9 days of wind, toilet humour and Brookesey's driving.

Full report of the ride yet to be collated from so many memories, we can all say 'Chapeau, J'y etais!'.

Getting there!

Day 7 - and the home stretch begins.

Many thanks to all posting comments, emailing and texting us - this is a great boost to our spirits.

A fantastic, if late, meal last night. maybe one or 2 too many Armagnac leaving heavy eyelids at breakfast.

To start, a section from this year's Tour de France, a daunting 14 mile 2000 foot climb up the category 2 Mezilhac from Le Cheylard. Brown, never a team player, shot off in keen and speedy assault. Oakley and McNulty in chasing pack, the remainder sightseeing some way behind. All completed without injury, only to be met by drizzle and a howling wind!

A quick coffee, then 15 miles of fast descent - if only Brown had found his brakes! The cold at height soon cleared to bright cloudless skies and warming sun. The wind remained, and helped a 30 mile drag to the River Ardeche at an easy gait.

Saenger's descent to 'new man' continued - loud bodily functions, tourettes style cussing and a leering and lacivious manner never before seen in our European friend.

What appeared on the map as a slight incline proved the steepest climb of all - Oakley even walking as the wind twice nearly blew his hirsute artificial topping ravine bound.

All felt the heat as the hottest conditions of the ride ensued - the helpers reporting that the Audi's air conditioning was stuggling to maintain sub zero temperatures.

The BMW meanwhile remained in St Etienne - Bretherton attaining first name terms with the AA helpless desk in England. No BMW, 2 passports short: a logistical challenge, erring towards a Transit and foot passenger route back at the end of the trip. We await developments.

120 miles today, finished with an endless big dipper of down then up sections - mellowed by the last 30 miles with a gale to the tail.

685 miles complete, 33500 feet of climb: even Eales is starting to get fit, if not thinner.

Last full day tomorrow, a planned last supper and then a short ride to St Tropez.

Gordon at the gates of Khartoum, Alexander at the gates of Asia - all felt the same trepidation our errant velocipedes now hold with the Meditteranean ozone scenting their nostrils. Onwards - hopefully downwards!

Where do I start?

The day 6 beckoned with fears of a 15000 foot climb tally - reduced by the last evening's 15 mile late foray.

We set off bright eyed and bushy tailed - like the cast of Watership Down (but quickly reconsidering given the French Agricultural Industry's preference to shoot anything furry and edible) - Rob's wig cowered below his helmet.

Bright temparament changed quickly to heavy breathing as the gradient rose - the peleton stretched from Brown at the front to a comedy masterclass at the rear from McNulty: Eales, Cocksedge and Pagliaro suddenly increasing cadence and speed in a vain attempt to escape.

Cycling continued - up, down - then up again!

The first calamity then befell the team.

In Brookes' words: 'Margaret was on the phone organising some sewing circle meeting, when I chanced upon a junction, maybe travelling at 2 or 3 mph. I asked her several times 'which way?'  only to hear some needlepoint tips for her next soiree. Before I knew it, there was a herd of Wildebeeste being transhumanced to higher pasture. In order to avoid a horn and fur disaster, I took the only option and carefully drove the car I was entrusted with to the side of the road. Owing to some cheap Frog or Algerian immigrant labour having built the road (unlike DSD) the verge crumbled and I ended up with 2 wheels in a ditch!'

In Margaret's words: 'I was applying a 4 point racing harness seat belt to counter the centrifugal force as we encounterd a hairpin bend: at mach 2, I blacked out. Awakening to hear a sobbing Brookes begging me to go along with his sordid excuse of a story. He promised never again to wear his spandex speedos in our hot tub should I go along with his plan. I am already regretting my aquiescence, but seeing the negative effect Brookes prancing bathing has caused our Koi, I had to agree.'

I leave you, dear reader, to decide who is telling the truth?

2 and a half hours later, the car was recovered and back on the road - no problems. However, having decanted all luggage, bikes, spares and people to the X5 - this promptly fell sick. resolutely refusing to start, the equipment went back to the Audi, the X5 heading driverless to St Etienne! Bretherton unable to fit in the car had to take a 40 mile taxi to the end hotel. We were beginning to forget the long miles.

Finally at the hotel, surely there couldn't be a 3rd incident?

I leave the photo here to speak of the injury to the rider'. Comments suggesting cause please?

Over 66% completed - perhaps tomorrow's cycling may take the headlines? Today's 95 mile ride through the Massif Central barely remembered above car and incidents!