At last, a chance to ride the Ambazacs in the summer. I followed my usual perfect pre-ride preparation – good food (thanks ‘azel), and a skinfull of beer. My riding partner as usual in the Ambazacs ‘Paul the Painter’. Our start point was St-Goussaud and we were gonna do FFC route 13, a black grade route of some 33km. It was warm and sunny, but not too hot, and I felt funky as we pedalled away. The first descent gave my brain a wake up call. Huge rocks everywhere, made it down more by luck than judgement.

Over the next few kilometres we rode some super sweet sweeping singletrack, some boulder strewn ball breaking sections, and the scenery was stunning. The wild flowers, the birds, the greeness, and challenge of the trails… I was just floating along. We crossed a river below Chaurverne-Neyre and started a long climb along the valley side. It was granny ring stuff, and quite tricky, requiring full concentration. As I rode up it the smell of the pine trees lifted me, I felt great, and the faster I went the better I felt. The climb eased a bit, and the view opened out as we climbed above the tree-line. Up into middle-ring and out of the saddle racing along as though someone elses legs were doing the work. Up a final loose rocky section bursting out onto the top full of the joys of cycling. If you can’t do this stuff you ain’t lived!!!

Paul arrived at the top some time later. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t feeling that good!!! Too bad, we just seemed to be at opposite ends of the spectrum. As a friend and fellow cyclist I did my duty, over the next couple of hours I pasted Paul on every climb that we came to. As I explained, it wasn’t a malicious thing, it didn’t give me pleasure, but it was my duty, and I felt so damn good I couldn’t stop myself. Paul is a younger fitter man than me, and knows that his turn will come, and he’ll pay me back. I can’t wait 😉

First some stats from my GPS – Distance Ridden 96 miles (same as last year). Max speed 33.5mph (half a mph slower than last year). Moving time 09:14 (that’s two minutes faster than last year!). Moving average 10.3mph (same as last year). Stopped 1hr 33mins (thats a full 6mins less than last year). Overall average 8.8mph (same as last year).

Now the ’anorak’ stuff. I rode a standard Specialized Stumpjumper Comp Hardtail. I ran a worn out Specialized Rockster 2.2 on the back @ 40psi, and a worn out Hutchinson Python on the front @ 40psi. I set my Fox RL 80mm forks soft with a slightly quicker than normal rebound so that they would soak up the smaller bumps and save my wrists. I carried 2 spare tubes, a small allen key tool, a Blackburn mini pump, a gillet, a chewy bar, and a bottle with ‘gear’ in it. I fitted a bloody great bugle horn on my bike, you know, the type with a squeezy rubber ball, it was used a lot. Walkers seem to like it. 😉

Here’s how it went…

The heavy rain overnight had left the going very wet with huge puddles, but I splashed on, and the brisk tailwind meant that I made good progress. On the descent into Queen Elizabeth Country Park it started to rain, just light rain at first, I thought I would make it to the checkpoint without stopping to ‘cape up’. I was wrong, by the time I reached the car park I was cold and wet. I stopped for a cup of tea, and some toast at the team bus (my van). Ten minutes later the rain had stopped, so with warm dry gloves, skull cap, and cape on I was off. It took a good while to warm up again.

By South Harting my back brake sounded awful, and didn’t work no more. The EBC green pads that were less than a month old had worn out, and it was metal to metal (I won’t be buying anymore of those). I called ahead on race radio (moby) to tell the team manager (wife). I rode on, with just a front brake and the natural berms in the descents to slow me down 🙂 By the time I arrived at the A24 road crossing near Washington she had some new pads waiting for me. This was the halfway point, I was well ahead of schedule, and feeling good. A complete change of kit, a brew, and a fettle of the bike and I was totally refurbished and on my way.

Things started to go wrong. The howling tailwind became a nasty gusting crosswind, riding at speed became very difficult. As time went on it seemed to get worse and worse. By Itford Farm I was seriously thinking of retiring as I felt it may be unsafe to go on. I stopped for a brew and studied the map trying to work out how much more exposed crosswind sections there would be. I continued.

The next twenty miles were not a lot of fun really, but I had taken on the challenge, and wanted to see it through. The worst bit was the last 5 miles. What is normally a victory glide along the top of the downs before whooping down into Eastbourne turned into a frightening crawl just trying to stay moving and upright. Even turning downwind for the final descent was scarey as the wind was shoving so hard.

I was glad to arrive at the finish, what a wild ride. I found out later that the TA had measured the wind as 55mph at one of the checkpoints!!! Later still I was astounded to find that I had completed the route two minutes faster than last year!

Thanks to everyone who sponsored me, and special thanks to my wife for looking after me, I couldn’t do it without her 🙂

It was one of those days when I didn’t want to faff around with a map. The sun was shinning, there was a light breeze. My plan was to ride upwind, then when I’d had enough turn around and ride home with a tailwind feeling like ten men.

I set off through the lanes to Rochechouart, descended down the back of the Chateaux, then on toward Babaudus. About a kilometer along I turned up a chemin for no reason other than I just did. The chemin climbed out of the valley in a middle-ring easy going sort of way, then across a road and on toward who knows where.

And so it was for the next couple of hours, I just rode along, in the warm sun, trending in the same direction, along fabulous tracks that just presented themselves one after the other like a gift, carpeted in spring flowers, not a care in the world, lost in the moment. However, with the realisation of being lost in the moment came the loss of the moment, and I found myself lost.

I had arrived at a huge lake, with a cafe, and a bar, and not a person there apart from mowerman. There were places launching saling boats, and signs that mentioned fishing, I wondered if the place ever got crowded, maybe in August, and how it survived the rest of the year. I spotted a path around the shore, I rode it.

By now my legs and hunger were telling me it was time to head home. As per plan, I turned to ride with the wind, noted where my shadow fell, and trended in that direction, it was that simple. Some time later, I grovelled my way back up the steep climb past the Chateaux with tired legs. On the run in along familiar roads I began to feel good. Maybe not like ten men, but certainly like a man who had enjoyed a gift of a day. Twenty minutes later I was back at home with a cool beer in the garden.

It was around this time last year that I rode in the Ambazac mountains for the first time. Here’s what I thought of it then…

I spent the next three hours riding some of the most ball breaking trails I have ever ridden. Very tough around here. Yes there were some good bits, with fantastic views, but for the most part it was just too hard.

My second visit started off in much the same way, inasmuch as it had rained heavily in the days before, and just like last time, I dashed over there at the last minute to make the most of a ‘weather window’. Again, my guide was Paul Gibson, and again, he was pretty fit after a season of cyclo-cross.

The scene was set for suffering, but this time I really enjoyed it. It was just as hard, just as ball breaking, in fact some of the same route. I even had the same tyres on, probably pumped up to a similar pressure. Dudes, I probably even wore similar kit, as the weather was about the same. Only difference was that this time I rode a Stumpjumper hard tail. Last year I rode a Stumpjumper FSR.

The HT wasn’t the only reason I enjoyed it more this time though. I’m a little fitter this time, and a little more adept at dealing with the stony rocky stuff that riding in the Limousin throws up. We spent the whole afternoon riding rock, roots, leaves, wet grass, mud, and deep puddles along some fabulous trails. We were kept on our toes by the odd farm yard dog as we weaved our way along the mountainsides. We were treated to some stunning views, along with sunshine and showers. When we got back I had just enough strength to lift a glass of beer. “Cheers Paul!”.

I still think it’s bloody hard up there. You need to be fit to ride the Ambazacs, and they’d punish a careless rider, I reckon you could trash a pair of wheels every ride, but if you’re after a tough satisfying place to work on your fitness and hone your xc skills then I reckon the Ambazacs are superb. I’m looking forward to going again already, probably this weekend 🙂

First, some stats from my GPS – Distance Ridden 96 miles (I didn’t turn the GPS unit on until the B&B). Max speed 34.0mph (that must be the descent into Queen Elizabeth Park. I’m a coward). Moving time 09:16. Moving average 10:3mph. Stoppped 1hr 39mins (tea & toast at QE park, full lunch and a change of kit just after the A20 crossing, tea and fruit loaf at Devils Dyke, tea and sandwich at Itford Farm). Overall average 8.8mph (that’s leisurely). Total ascent in meters 2760.Now ‘some anorak’ stuff. I rode a standard Specialized Stumpjumper Comp Hardtail. I ran Specialized Rockster 1.9 tyres @ 50psi (They don’t make these anymore, closest thing would be Hutchinson Pythons). I set my Fox RL 80mm forks soft with a slightly quicker than normal rebound so that they would soak up the smaller bumps and save my wrists. I carried 1 spare tube, plus glue and patches, a small allen key tool, a Blackburn mini pump, a gillet, a chewy bar, and a bottle with ‘gear’ in it. I fitted a small bell on my bike, and it was used a lot. Walkers seem to like a bell.

Having back-up meant that I didn’t have to carry too much kit, and the longest time I spent on my own was about three hours. I didn’t suffer much, and I reckon the good stop half way, and full change of kit paid dividends. The back-up was my lover Carla, who’s experience and skill at looking after bike riders is second to none. I didn’t have to worry, “will she be there?”, and “will I be able to find her?”, because I knew she just would be in the right place, and she’d have everything ready. Even when I turned up at QE park with a buddy she made an extra brew as if she had been expecting it. I couldn’t have done it without her, and it wouldn’t have been half as much fun.

Last year I rode the event on a full-suspension bike. This year I rode a hard tail. Now, if I was going to ride next year which do you think I would choose?

We did the Rough Ride this weekend. When I say we I mean Carla, Supawal, and me. When I say the Rough Ride I mean the tough Enduro event that takes place in Radnorshire.I opted for the 70km route, did it last year, and it was fantastic. The moorland sections are stunningly beautiful if you have the nerve to take your eyes off the trail for a second, or if you have the time to stop and look. I rode full-sus, and was wondering if I had made the right choice on the outward journey as there was a stiff headwind, and a lot of steep climbs. Things were different on the way back, with a nice tailwind blowing bowling along the trails was magic, and some of the descents were a major source of wow!

It took me 5 hours to complete the course, which is half an hour slower than last year. I put this down to the fact that the ground was not as hard this time. Carla thought the same as she had taken much longer to do the 40km route than she had anticipated bearing in mind her time from the 70km route last time.

Supawal? Well he said he was thinking of doing the short route, but he seemed to be going very well, and was in front of me at the split. When he went straight on I assumed that he was sticking to his short route plan. Turns out he missed the signs. Well that’s what he claims happened!