It’s been a couple of years since I rode a road bike, but my dodgy shoulder has stabilised enough to make me want to try one again. Of course it would have to be a Spesh, and over recent months I’ve been thinking about the Specialized Roubaix. When I saw a picture of the all new 2007 version, and heard tales from the trade launch about how fabulous this bike was my mind was made up. I ordered one! 🙂

Originally scheduled to arrive sometime in November, imagine how excited I was when I got an email from Gary at Pearce Cycles to tell me it had arrived. This was on thursday, the day after my 51st birthday! Ace world cup meticulous mechanic James had built her up, and next day I was there to collect her. Wow!!! Even better in the flesh, the pictures I’d seen just didn’t do justice. So light, so well put together, as much like a work of art as a bike, and so damn sexy.

I could go on and on about how the 2007 S-Works Roubaix is a totally new frame that represents the absolute leading edge of what can be achieved with carbon cycle technology. How the frame is stiffer and lighter than ever, how the S-Works carbon crankset is lighter and stiffer than Dura-Ace, how the new Mavic 10th Anniversary Ksyrium Edition Spéciale wheels were chosen as the very best blend of performance and compliance, how even the open-tubular tyres are designed to be the fastest most comfortable tyres possible. Or how Specialized’s Systems approach to Bike Design fits with their ‘inovate or die’ creed, but I won’t. Too excited see.

So excited that I ran out of fuel on my way home. Had to use my new bike to go to the garage. It wasn’t what I wanted for a first ride. I’d planned best kit, sunny day, super route. As I pedaled toward the garage in my non-cycling clothes and trainers I tried not to notice how bloody fantastic she felt.

When I got her home, I put her in the living room so that I could have a cuppa and study her. First proper ride tomorrow, if it’s sunny.

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 🙂

Less than a week to go now before my third attempt at the ‘Hearts First Randonnée Challenge‘. You may remember I did it in 2004 with my brother, as part of my recovery from a broken shoulder, then again in 2005 because I had enjoyed it so much in 2004, and now I’m all set to do it again this year.

I’m whippet thin through mile after mile of tough training, and I’m up for it. Last year I was 14th rider home, and although I know it’s not a race, I wanna be up there with the leaders this time.

The event is organised by the British Heart Foundation The British Heart Foundation (BHF) who are the leading UK charity fighting heart and circulatory disease – the UK’s biggest killer. The BHF funds research, education and life-saving equipment and helps heart patients return to a full and active way of life. They rely on donations to continue their vital work.

So me and the BHF are doin’ all the hard work 🙂 , and all I’d like you to do is to sponsor me. You can do it online at my page on the BHF website. Thanks in advance, wish me good luck, and I wish you good karma.

In the blink of an eye, two months in France gone, all our tomorrows turned to yesterdays, all rides ridden, time to pack and leave. Where did it all go? Two months seemed like such a long time at the start, even halfway through there was no need to panic, and then, in a puff of blue smoke, gone!

Our two months at Noisetieres in the Limousin had been fantastic. When we arrived, it was tail-end winter, when we left it was full-blown spring, even early summer. I found so many trails to ride, and whole areas where I need to go back to for further exploration. I reckon I’d be hard pushed to ride them all ever, and some of them so sweet (wipes tear from eye).

We left on Friday afternoon about 4pm, the weather was warm and sunny, I wore t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. We drove North at a leisurely pace, past the Monts de Blond and the Ambazacs where I’d ridden in rain and shine, then on up towards Orleans. We stopped for coffee about 100k before Chartes, and it was freezing! OK, slight exaggeration, but it was so much colder that a frantic rummage through the bags to find warm clothes was in order. By the time we reached Chartes, and booked into our overnight accommodation, we were looking for the heating switch.

Next day, onward to Boulogne, the clouds rolled in, and it started to rain. A fitting end to our stay in France really, but it didn’t make the driving any easier. As we rolled off the ferry at Dover I couldn’t take anymore, I handed over driving duties to Carla while I drowned my sorrows in a can of French supermarket beer.

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 🙂

Tell you what, when it rains in the Limousin it rains for the world. We are on our third day of rain now, and no end in sight. None of that mamby pamby pishy stuff either, no proper downpour.

Take yesterday for example. I was so desperate to get out on my bike that when the rain stopped for a while and blue sky appeared I changed and was away. The roads were still wet, but I didn’t mind, just glad to be out on my bike. All went well, even ventured off-road, started to enjoy myself, didn’t notice the huge black clouds creeping up on me.

Five minutes later the rain started, light rain at first, but then heavier and heavier, and just when you thought it couldn’t rain any harder it turned to hail, and it hurt! With nowhere to stop for shelter, I paddled (might as well have been) on. Half an hour later I was back indoors stripping off sopping wet kit, and feeling very cold. Half an hour later again, the sun had come out to mock me.

Today, guess what? It’s raining! But then, I’d rather be riding my bike in the rain than working 🙂

Training has been going well, very well. I’ve found some great trails to ride, and the more I go out, the more I find. See, I’ll set off with the loose intention of going to Cognac le Foret, and end up never getting there because I got tempted by stuff along the way. I’ll come home with three good hours under my belt having the planned Cagnet ride in my back-pocket for another day. Cool or what?

Of course it’s not all fun and cycling. I’ve been working on the problem of bathroom waste water not draining as it should. I’ll do that as a separate post with a food warning!