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| Blaire after a great ride. |
So Blaire and I are part of the EC Anduze Mountain Bike club that meets once a week for a 2 hour ride around in the local area. The location varies from week to week and invloves riding through the countryside on small lanes, fire roads, single track and open fields. It's a great way to meet the locals, develop language and riding skills and see the country.
Biking to the French is not unlike ice hocky to Canadians. They take it very seriously and there is a great support network in most communities to develop young atheletes.
The first week out, Our friend, Simon, asked me " Do you want to roll it out today?"
"Uhh, O.K."
"Then your in that group over there." Pointing a a group of kids.
"Uhh, O.K."
I blinked and the entire group of kids disappeared. I spent the next 2 minutes catching up to them as they blasted through of the ancient French village and out into the vinyards. I felt like I was being fired out of a cannon and spent the next 30 minutes trying to keep them in sight through the rolling fire roads and winding singletrack.
About this point I began practicing how to beg for "merci" in French. The single track was awsome, lined with oaks, pine, thyme, rosemary and blackberry bushes. The low spots in the trail were laden with mud the consistency of Skippy peanut butter and cause for despair. The decents were thrilling, lined with ropes of thorns, set on limestone bedrock with rocks like grapefruits and watermelons strew about to test the hand eye coordination. The climbs were technical with the rock and mud but thankfully short.
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| The thorns lining the trails motivate one to keep on the path. |
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| The "A group" leader Danielle. Aside from a few brief glimpses, I won't see much of him until halfway through the ride. |
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| The "A goup" |
It's about this time that I realized that I wasn't going to get close enough to the group leader to beg for "merci" in French and began to beg God for a flat tire. I was in St.Paul's Catherdral last month so I should have some points I can use.
Finally, about halfway through the ride, the group stopped at a gravel pit where they spent a few minutes "playing" on the terrain features. This gave me a chance to catch my breath and then we were off again.
The last half of the ride I focused on keeping the 12 year old in sight and even managed to pass him a few times. That made me feel better however, I struggled with the the moral dilema of wheather or not it is immoral to draft behind a 12-year old.
I came out of the ride looking like something out of a piece of Andy Warhol art, liberally coated in sweat, mud and blood. But what a ride!
I'm the only full suspension bike here and everyone uses tubless tires because with the sharp limestsone and thorns, flats are almost gauranteed with tubes. Some of the kids compete nationally and have some very high end bikes with brand names I've never heard of before.
Warren.
