What could be nicer than early March in Paris? I'd like nothing more than to take my place

at a pavement cafe where all the seats are turned to face outwards, order a crock

monsieur and then watch the world go by as I savor the crisp toast, salty ham and gooey

cheese. Then I'd take a few moments to ponder the journey ahead. I'd look at the maps

spread out on the table in front of me and I'd trace the route south with my finger. South,

south a bit more, keep going south until you reach the sea. Because if it's early March

in Paris, then the destination must be Nice and the coat as you are.

Paddy Nice, La Corsse au Soleil, the race to the sun. Sure, Nice often is sunny in March,

but the riders are sometimes made to earn the warmth on their backs because it can also

be the race through the rain or in a bad year even through the snow.

Paddy Nice links two great cities, both sophisticated, well healed, sheik in their own way. In Paris,

they hustle and bustle. They promenade at a more leisurely pace on the sea front in Nice

and they do in the capital, apart from the ones on roller blades, of course. The journey

offers the promise that a good salad nice was lies in weight. Now that is one of the great

lunch dishes, spring on a plate or preferably in a large shallow bowl. Bright, vibrant, fresh

salad leaves, crunchy green beans and ripe tomatoes, tuna or anchovies not both, hard boiled

eggs, black olives, all dressed in good olive oil. Certainly worth waiting a week for, especially

if the sun is glistening off the Mediterranean. Because that's what keeps us all moving

south. Well, it's what keeps me moving south anyway, because on the way it can be a bit

of a test. Some days can convince you that winter might never lift. It's a migration

that's more about the destination than the journey. The riders make their way through

a france that is still half asleep. On they go through unspectacular towns and villages

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