Been looking forward to this one for a while. Why? because it takes place in the Monts de Blond, one of my favourite mountainbiking areas. By the way, Sangliers means wild boar!

The weather just lately has been awful, you might have seen something about it on the news, breaking records for rainfall, flooding, and more of the same to come. However, I’d decided that I was gonna do it “come hell or high water”……and so with bike fully prep’d for wet conditions I found myself with coffee and croissant in my belly racing away from the stade in Blond.

I got up near the front straight away to avoid the chaos that would surely ensue when we hit the first rocky climb. Judging by the crunching of gears and the swearing I could hear behind me it was the right thing to do. A french rider wearing number 13 on his shirt opened up a gap, and I chased after him. Two kilometres later we were joined by a young whippet of a rider who pushed the pace a little taking the three of us well clear.

Disaster struck for the young whippet, he puntured. Number 13 went to the front and we pushed on. The pace was fast-steady, and while no one closed on us from behind I was happy to let 13 lead the way. This seemed the sensible thing to do as some of the descents were tricky, and I felt safer letting 13 find the suprises.

I wasn’t sure if 13 would stop at the revitalment, and I was only gonna stop if he did. Luckily he did, which gave me enough time to grab a couple of bits of brioche and lube my chain. I was just about to leave when the young whippet, punture fixed, showed up. The three of us rode away together. Although the young whippet had fixed his punture I noticed that his tyre didn’t look very hard.

From the revitalment there was kilometre after kilometre of swooping downhill. Young whippet led the way 13 and I hung on as best we could. Disaster again for the young whippet/chauffard as his rear tyre blew out on a particularly rocky section. Number 13 went to the front and we pushed on.

We were now at about two thirds distance, and time was getting close when I would have to make my move on 13. We hit a long dual track drag, and I rode to the front, more to show that I was willing to work rather than to attack. To quote Paul the Painter, 13 “fell apart like a cheap watch”. By the time I crested the drag he was gone. I pushed on knowing that if young whippet had the ‘kit de reparation’ he would have his puncture fixed and be in hot pursuit.

I rode as hard as I possibly could on the climbs, went as fast as was sensible on the flats, and took it steady on the desents. All too soon, as I was enjoying the course so much, I was at the finish, first rider home on the 36km loop with 2:15 on the clock. Time for more coffee croissants, brioche, fruit.

One of the best circuits I’ve ridden, and nowhere near as muddy as I was expecting. Well worth the effort of carrying my GPS to record it so that I can take friends on it. Watch out!!! 🙂

Thanks to la guidon bellachon for a matin fantastique

I should have guessed what it would be like when we had the thunderstorms the day before, or on the drive there when the early morning mist was wetter than wet. Even the relatively small turn out combined with the light drizzle didn’t drop the penny for me. When the lead motorbike set off, and the organiser waved the “grand depart” adieu something was lacking, enthusiasm. C’mon you lot! Lets go!

Keen to be away I set off after the motorbike and was never seen again! The heavy rain had taken it’s toll, mud that was worse than Bringewood in March, tractor ruts that were axle deep, and stream/river crossings that were worryingly deep. You know how when it’s muddy it’s a good idea to run through the puddles to keep your bike wet? Well that’s what I did, and it was more like steering a boat than riding a bike. I got the bike cross-rutted endless times, must have run/staggered kilometres, but once you’re wet and dirty it becomes great fun.

I nursed my bike as much as I could by running the chain as straight as possible, as using the brakes a little as I could get away with. The mud was very gritty. I rode my Stumpy hardtail, and I reckon I made the right choice, full suspension was not needed.

I took a last drink just before I crossed the edge of the field where the muck spreading was in progress!!! Wasn’t gonna drink from it after that. The nice ladies at the revitalment stations confirmed that I was first rider through, as did some of the locals in one of the villages. I pushed on.

I’d been out around an hour and a half the “arrive” came into sight, just 500m away, but then the course arrows turned us away again. Up through the village, out the other side, down down down into a steep valley with a switchback trail that was technically challenging 🙂 Back up the road from whence we came to finish. Tired and dirty, I was the first rider home.

On Saturday I went down to meet up with the ROC (Rochechouart Olympic Cyclo). The local paper had published the route, it was to be 100km tres difficile!!! I arrived just in time to find les boys congregated in the shade outside the chateaux. There was no time to shake the hand of everyone (which is normal), so I shouted a greeting to all, and as we rolled out of town I made my way among the bunch shaking hands with those I knew from previous weeks. We were about 50 strong, a good mix of young guns and old hands. Even the former champion on the Limousin was out today, along with at least one former national champion! 😉

Up the long climb towards St Gervais natural ability groups began to form. The pace was steady and no one seemed concerned about closing gaps. We continued like this for around 20km then as if someone had flicked a switch the pace picked up. Over the next hour or so we raced along, going hard up the climbs, but then easing back a little every now and then to let everyone get back on. From time to time the young guns would hammer off the front to sprint for village signs, and from time to time the former champion of the Limousin would take charge with a blistering turn of speed just to show them that he still had it.

After Massignac I lost track of where we were until we raced into Pressignac, back on familiar roads I relaxed a little as I knew what was coming next. The pace eased as we neared home. Down to Chassenon, and back into Rochechouart with almost exactly 100km on the clock. A great ride under my belt I thanked my fellow “cyclistes” and made my way home. Did I mention that I stopped at the little shop in town to pick up a can of strong beer. 🙂

Took part in the VTT (MTB) event down at Cognac le Foret yesterday. It’s billed as a randonnee, not a race, and it’s as much not a race as the Meridas. In other words there’s always riders at the front who wanna be the first home. It was an early start (08:30), quite chilly, with some mist. I opted to do the longest 44km route.

Anyways, the Gran Depart (mass start) was the usual chaotic every man for himself, and I rode very hard for the first few km to get away from the traffic. In fact I actually made it off the front, possibly because I knew the trail section, or more likely because I’d gone off course despite the ample markings!!! Sensing that something was wrong I retraced.

I managed to work my way back to the front, and rode straight past the revitalment (food stop) without stopping. I’d been going for about an hour by now, and was caught by a trio of French riders. They were going a shade faster than me, but I latched on limpet stylee. They were damn fit, with whippet builds. It was agony on the climbs, but I’d get a little rest on the descents (I’m on my Epic).

At the second revitalment the marshal confirmed that we were the first riders through. A quick drink and a bite to eat and we were on our way. We’d been out over two and a half hours now and I was cooked. Hanging on, just staring at the wheel in front hoping that the pain would end soon (great fun). I was third rider home, as two of them dropped me up the last climb.

It’s the hardest I’ve ridden since the Runners Riders, and just the workout I was hoping for. Later, in the afternoon I watched the Paris-Roubaix on Franch tele with a couple of beers!!!!!

Down in the Haute Vienne for a couple of days. Couldn’t believe how warm it was. When you think that it’s only around 700 miles south from home. It was like going from early spring to early summer in the space of a day (how long it took to get here).

With just a light undershirt, and legwarmers instead of tights it was too warm!!! Anyway, set off for a couple of hours easy Sunday ride taking in Cognac le Foret, St Cyr, and St Auvent. A hilly tough route, but some super fast dirt roads from Cognac to St Cyr. Carla rode her FSR, and as it was a little warm she rolled her legwarmers down to just on the knee in that super chic way that she likes! 😉

James trial the day after boxing day. The third and final round of the Pearce Cycles Champion of Champions 2006. I’m showing 1st on the leader board, but I have no trials bike to ride, and this leaves 2nd placed Gary clear to snatch the title.

Following a frantic google search, and a few phone calls… got to say a mighty thanks to Mark at BVM in Stroud. Not only did he sort me out with a bike, but his mechanics spent some time with me setting it up, and making sure I was happy with it. Thanks Guys. Very Happy.

Also must thank Main Motorcycle Man, and Top Trials Tutor James Williams from Pearce Cycles for a full day of intensive tuition to try and get me in shape. Cheers James. Very Happy.

Last time I rode a trial it was on a Villiers 197, and I was 14!!! This time I was on a Beta Rev3. What a great bike, a joy to ride. I couldn’t believe how much grip could be had from a trials tyre at 3psi. Anyway, I finished second out of four riders in the novice class. But, and here’s the important bit…. I finished ahead of my mate Gary, and this was enough to make me the Champion of Champion 2006!!!!!! Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy!!!

…and a big thanks to all the riders who made it so much fun… to James dad who let us us his farm as a venue, and James mum who sorted out some fantastic shepherds pie for lunch.

Spotted a poster for this VTT Randonnee on the door at Cycles-Pineau. At last, a VTT event that was on locally while we were around, we had to do it. On the day we were up early, and on our way to the start in the small village of Javerdat, not really sure what to expect. We were in for one great day out!

The village was teeming with cyclists, all sorts and ages, from youngsters to fat old blokes in denim look Carerra tights (straight out of the 80’s). From serious racer looking types to family groups, there really was a full spectrum of riders. We were not sure if there was a massed start, and by 5 past the official start time we decided that there wasn’t and headed off. I was following the blue 42km markers, Carla was following the red 30km markers, athough both routes followed yellow markers in places, they were for all riders. Sounded a bit complicated when it was explaned to us, but in reality it was very easy. Where routes split there were bigger than usual markers, and road crossings were marshalled.

I’d started with knee warmers, arm warmers, gloves, and buff, but it wasn’t long before I had warmed through. The had sun started to warm the air, it was turning into a glorious autumn day. I don’t know if it was the magic of the moment, but it felt great. The trails were some of the best I have ridden anywhere. Whooping singletrack hillside shelves, rockstrewn descents, switchbacks, the lot, even the odd farm yard or two.

After an hour or so I was thinking that I should eat some of the food I was carrying with me. No need! just around the next corner was a food station! Tables of food for the riders, with just about anything and everything a cyclist might want as a mid-ride snack. There were even bottles of wine!!! I took some briosch, a banana, and a cup of water.

As I set off again I bumped into one of the engines from yesterday’s ride with the ROC. We shook hands and exchanged greetings. We rode along together for a while, and for a rider who prefers riding road to off-road he was damn skillful, and very strong.

With just over two hours done, a fit looking rider on a full sus came past me like the finish was just around the next corner. Flicking his bike through the rooty sections, and pedalling hard through the wide turns, he was stylish and strong, and then….we arrived at the finish. 42km in just over two hours, could it be?

Back into the village, and the tables that had the breakfast stuff on now had lunch stuff on! Didn’t need to bring those sanwiches with us after all then. Past the bike wash, and the signs for the showers, back to the van. Carla was already there, she’d had a bit of a disaster of a ride, with multiple punctures, shed fixed one of the punctures with insulation tape! She’d done 30km, by doing the 15km route twice. We both agreed that the trails had been fantastic, and resolved to visit the area again when we could.
Still buzzing from the ride, I pursuaded Carla to take the van home while I rode. I slapped some lube on my chain, and I was away. Floating along on the smooth tarmac, in the sun, with a great ride under my belt, I doesn’t get much better than this. What a gift of a day.

The ROC, or Rochechouart Olympic Cycling Club has it’s weekly ride out on Saturday afternoon, starting at 14:00hrs from the Chateaux. I’ve known this for some time, but this Saturday was my first chance to ride with them, and the first chance for me to ride with others on my new Spesh Roubaix.

It was a lovely autumn day, and I arrived at the Chateaux 10mins early to find that there were already around 20 riders there. Now, every rider must shake the hand of every other rider there, it doesn’t have to be the right hand, because you might be holding your bike with your right, but whichever had is closest or more convenient. As more riders arrived the handshaking and greetings intensified. The Church bells rang, and the ride began, handshaking continued as we rode out of town. Now about 40 riders strong, and most of the riders in the clubs blue and red kit. Now get this, as we snaked out of town on the main road towards Vayres the drivers of cars, vans, whatever seemed pleased to see us!!!! Gave us room, and time, and waved, and smiled!

We were all sorts of ages, sizes, styles, and the first few kms were very sedate. With the planned route for the day at 90kms I wondered if we would be back before dark. Then as we hit the start of the climb into Vayres four of the younger lads jumped up the road. I couldn’t stop myself, I jumped after them. My legs stung, but it felt great. As we approached the road sign for the village one of the lads jumped again, the others jumped after him. I was just dangling off the back as we crested the hill breathing very hard. That was the longest hardest effort I’d made on a road bike in a long time.

We continued along the main road at quite a pace, with repeated attacks, just for fun. At St-Mathieu we stopped and waited for the arrival of the whole group. The pace of the main group had lifted now, and seemed to have slimmed down in size. The next 40kms or so were fantastic. Bowling along on superb quiet roads with all riders tapping through to contribute to the pace. One of the riders told me that shortly we would be crossing the highest point in the Charente. As we started to trend downhill some of the engines came to the front and strung the group out. We hammered down the silk smooth road, my top gear of 50*12 only just enough.

At Vernieul we turned off the main road to ride through the lanes toward Chabanais. The pace slowed a little, just two or three of the engines keeping it moving, I tried to be one of them, but I was feeling a little tired, and I knew it was a stinker of a climb up out of Chabanais to the finish. The slower pace allowed a little chatting. As I stuggled with the French language I hardly noticed the kilometers passing by until one of the young lads who had instigated the original attack on the first climb of the day went up the road. We were almost home already.
Through Chassenon we started to catch some of the slower riders, who must have taken a shorter route. As we rolled into Rochechouart we had exactly 90kms on the clock. It had been a great ride, with a great bunch of riders. I had got exactly what I wanted from the ride, and it seemed to me that everyone else had to. I hope to be able to ride’n’roll with the ROC again soon.

Where I’m working at the moment there’s a bunch of cyclists who train at lunch times. They’re known as the Radbroke Wheelers. and they are a mix of racers, triathletes, and blokes who just wanna keep fit. They go out twice a week, for a brisk ride, usually lasts an hour or so. I’ve ridden with them when I worked at Radbroke before, so I knew what to expect when I rode with them this week. It’s nearly always relentlessly brisk, with a burn-up down the home straight.

So, when I showed up on my MTB, I knew it was gonna hurt. Wednesday wasn’t so bad. I was fresh, and the route was fairly flat, and I got away with it. Thursday was tough, I could still feel the previous days effort in my legs, and as the pressure went on on some of the rises I was pretty much chewing on the handlebars. Determined not to crack, the burn-up down the last mile was agony. Thanks for the workout fellas, I deserved it. 🙂