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! 😉