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. 🙂

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 🙂