Spent the morning washing my bike, scrubbing my white bar tape, and eating lots in preparation. It’s fantastic weather, and there’s a four hour ride on the cards…

Rolling down through the town towards the Plan d’eau I feel funky and fine on my sprarkling bike. There’s a good dozen out today, and discussion is taking place on where to go. There’s mention of a loop in the Monts de Blond, that’s too tough for some who suggest a Charentine circuit. There’s shoulder shrugging and some boffing, and before you know it i’m in a group of four that’s doin’ the Monts de Blond loop. That’s Jean-Francois, Maxime, Eric, and me.

We set off towards Biennac, the two ‘young guns’ Jean-Francois and Max on the front. The pace is brisk from the start. Max is riding his new Scott CR1, he’ll be keen to show what it can do. They’re chatting, but unless I’m mistaken they’re also half-wheeling each other. I’m breathing quite hard, so is Eric. This could be a tough ride.

At Biennac we pick up ANother, he was on his way to the meet, but was late. He joins us, and Eric explains to him that we’re the fast group enroute for Blond, the cyclotouriste group has gone south. ANother says something along the lines of ‘feck my luck’ and tags along.

It’s a tough road all the way to Cognac le Foret, fairly straight, but with huge roller coaster drags of 1 to 2 kms. The young guns push on. I’m glued to the wheel in front like my life depended on it. As we begin the long descent to St Victurnien the young guns move across leaving Eric and me on the front.

We cross the Vienne and start the long climb up to La Barre. I go to the front to set a tempo that I can manage, and one that I hope will satisfy the young guns. Spinning a low gear, trying to look as comfy as I can, it does the trick. Over the top and on towards Oradour sur Glane. Jean-Francois is on the front now driving out a relentless brisk/steady pace. At Oradour we ride up past the ‘Village Martyr‘ and head out towards Cieux which is when the real climbing will start. At Cieux we turn our bikes uphill, which is ANother’s cue to peel off, “a bientot”.

Traversing along the south side of the Monts through pretty villages, and alongside numerous etangs the fairies take me away, and i’m floating along effortlessly. As the climb to Peyrelade starts to bite I’m brought back to reality. I go to the front and try the old tempo setting trick again, it works for a while, but then Max decides he’ll set a pace he’s happy with. Max rides quicker and quicker. By the time we reach the top i’ve got wobbly legs, but i’m still on his wheel, Eric is still on mine, and strangely Jean-Francois is a little off the back.

Down the northside of the hills into Montrol Sénard, a lovely little town, with a super little restaurant, La Belle Equipe, and hey! it’s open, we could stop for a cool beer, and no we don’t, that just doesn’t happen, ever!

There’s a slight headwind blowing along the dead straight road to Blond. The pace has settled a little, and i’m on the front. This road gets used a lot for road races, I can see old paint from the Tour de Limousin, and the ASSJ St junien. A hard road to race on with nowhere to hide. In Blond we turn right to climb back over the hills.

It’s a tough climb, and like a madman who keeps repeating the same behaviour expecting the outcome to be different, I go to the front. I’m working hard, and with around 1km done Eric rides along side and starts to turn the screw. We’re climbing well, out of the saddle on the steeper bits, seated ‘on the tops’ on the shallower bits. As the road twists and turns first Eric is in front, then me. There’s a gear change behind me. Sounds like someone going up the block! Eric pushes on, i’m looking for the summit.

By the time we pass the Frédéric Mistral monument i’m on the rivet. There’s the summit, we get out of the saddle and sprint. “Où sont les jeunes?”, I ask. There’s no sign of the young guns. Turns out Jean-Francois is still getting over a cold, and Max was letting the ‘old boys’ have their fun.

On the way home we do St Junien direct. Big fast smooth main roads with a slight cross-tail to help us along. Just got to cross the Vienne, climb out of the valley and we’re home. Jean-Francois peels off first near St Junien, he’s almost home. I cross the river with Eric and Max (father and son incidentally) and start the last climb. I’m on the front, doh! Just above St Martin de Jussac Mac comes by. “Bye”, he shouts, and takes off, “bye bye”, we say, and watch him go. He gets 200meters, then, whoa, wassappnin’, we’re out of the saddle chasing, chasing like madmen. 😉

The midweek training bash with the ROCC started of OK, yes it was cold, at around 4 degress, but OK. We rode down through Chabanais, and enjoyed 500 metres of the awful river crossing main road, choked with logging trucks going to the paper mill along what I call ‘the road to hell’. Within a couple of minutes we’re back out of town on deserted roads. It’s cold today, and we’re pushing on to keep warm.

At Lesterps a light rain starts to fall, the pace picks up. With Oradour sur Glane still 25kms away the light rain becomes a steady drizzle. All banter has stopped, and we work hard together to get the job done, this is training, you can’t just go home when you feel like it.

Oradour behind us we climb towards La Barre, the roads are soaked now, and water sprays up off our wheels, my fingers are numb. The descent towards St Victurnien is a long one, by the time we re-cross the river I’m feeling cold. My hands are numb. I’m glad to be climbing again and I work hard to generate some warmth. By the time we get to Cognac le Foret I’m fine apart from my hands.

Only 10km left to do, it’s raining heavily now, we’re motoring. It’s cold, wet, and tough. As I roll into home I have over four hours on the clock. This is the price of good form. Dripping wet I strip off in the garage. A quick shower, some warm clothes, and a cup of hot tea with a dash of whisky in it.

The warmth of the sun has brought them all out. Best bikes, best wheels, best shades. Looking around the group it’s like those who are on steel or aluminium are the minority. There’s carbon everywhere, a couple of riders are sporting carbon wheels. With all the best bling out I’m hoping for a blast of a bash. By the way, I’m ashamed to say my bike is not looking it’s best. I haven’t washed it in a fornight, it’s filthy.

Off we go along the valley road towards St Laurent. We’ve only gone about 3kms and I realising that I’m overdressed, I remove my skull cap, not enough, I remove my neck warmer, and gloves. My pockets are full now, so I festoon my handlebars with neckwarmer and gloves. I stop to tie them on tight, I don’t want them dropping into my wheel, or anyone elses!

On the rolling climbs towards St Auvent a few splits appear as Maxime and Jean-Francois sprint each other for crests. It looks like fun, I go to join in. They’re young blokes, I can’t match them, but I can have a good go. Through St Auvent, then right towards St Cyr, we cross the river then start the climb out of the valley, it’s probably about 1km to the village, Jean-Francois is on the front working hard. Max comes flying by, Jean-Francois clangs up a couple of gears and gives chase, I’m chewing on my handlebars trying to hang on.

We stop at St Cyr to regroup, riders arrive in twos and threes some look like they’ve been trying hard. All back together we’re off towards Cognac le Foret. Steadily climbing up through Vedeix, the sun on our backs, it’s a corker of a day. From Cognac it’s mostly downhill all the way to St Victurnien. It’s a super sweeping roller-coaster of a road, and by the time we reach St Vic we’re flying. Crossing the river Vienne we swing left towards St Junien, and this is where the real action starts, I dunno why, or who said it should, or who or how it’s decided, it just does.

Maybe its because we’ve turned onto the circuit that is used for the St Junien road race, and the racers among the group get a surge of adrenalin, or summat, but now the pace is high, and there’s no let up. Whatever happened to tempo base training? It’s like a race, by the time we reach St Junien there’s 5 off us. Back over the river Vienne and onto the climb out of the valley once more. Maxime and Jean-Francois are dishing it out again. I chase after them, I’m being shadowed, but can’t see who it is. Max is coming back to us, Jean-Francois goes again, as we reach the top of the climb my shadow comes flying by. “Merci pour le taxi Steve”, says Eric.

We’ve almost completed the 70km circuit as described in the ROCC’s ride calendar, but we decide to add another loop on to bring us closer to 100k, and of course everyone is up for it. I’m quite tired by now, not that I’d admit it 🙂

Jean-Francois is still pushing the pace, we’re going up a long drag, all of a sudden I’m suffering, i’m starting at the block of the bike in front of me, sitting tight on the wheel waiting for the pain to end. Now I’m training. This was exactly what I wanted. 🙂

There can be no nicer way of seeing France than from the saddle of a bike, and there can be no better way of learning French than swapping banter in a bunch of French cyclists. Well that’s how it felt yesterday when I joined the Rochechouart Olympic Club Cyclo on their wednesday afternoon training bash.

Wednesday afternoon training bash? Yes, I’m sure the whole of France stops on a Wednesday afternoon for cycling. About 10 riders showed up at the Plan d’ Eau for the 1:30pm start. Within a few minutes of handshaking and greeting the route had been decided on and we were on our way. Did I mention it was a beautiful sunny day with a bright blue sky? It was 🙂

Rochechouart > St Mathieu > Montbron > L’Arbe > Massignac > Rochechouart. A straightforward route on main roads that would take us over the highest point of the Charente. The pace was effortless brisk as we bowled along chatting about all the usual things that cyclists chat about, bikes, rides, races, the stock exchange! I listen hard, and join in when I can. It’s great practice for me, as it’s the more or less the same stuff we talk about every time.

After a couple of hours we’re on top of the col at Chatain Besson, a high point of the ride. It’s not alpine by any means, but huge rolling hills under a massive sky. Not steep at all, a relentless middle of the block climb of around 7km. Looking out at the panorama it’s green as far as the eye can see, no big towns or cities, just the odd village or farm, just the odd church spire or water tower.

Through Montbron, we swing right, heading for home. All the way up to Massignac and beyond the road surface is super smooth, and traffic free, we glide along. We see a couple of groups of cyclist heading the other way “Salut”…..

As we get closer to home the pace pics up, the chat stops, we sprint for village signs, for fun. Down the last few kms we’re motoring. Down the last descent back into Rochechouart we’re racing, for fun. Up through the town riders start to peel off, “a bientot, a prochaine….” By the top of the town there’s just Eric and me. Eric lives just across the valley from me. We ride the 10km home together.

With 4 hours of riding done. I’m tired, and could murder a can of beer, but I haven’t got any. I put my bike away and shower, while Carla pops into town for a couple of tins.
I love riding my bike, and I love that woman! 🙂