Slumming in the south of France

Easter afforded me the opportunity to take the week orf and fly to Nice for some sun, sand and surf. I went with my colleague Robin and we stayed in a caravan owned by one of his friends for a week, indulging in a spot of riding while we were there. I guess you could call it reverse slumming, as we were not that close to Nice, but hey...

We picked a good week to take off, as it snowed and was generally miserable in the UK over Easter. By contrast, we enjoyed lots of sun, although it only got up to about 10°Ré, no rain at all, but some insane winds on the first few days.

The riding was amazing down there. The roads we used - even the minor ones - were generally all lovely and smooth, unlike the rutted lanes and hard surfaces we get in the UK. There was plenty of climbing as well. No real mountains, but we did get up to 700m a couple of times. And nothing really steep either: it was all 4-5% gradients, which means you can spin up them at whatever pace you want, rather than being forced to work for it.

All up in seven days, including a race at Castle Combe last Friday (I was 12th), I managed 870km with 12,000m of climbing and roughly 30 hours of riding time. I haven't done that sort of kilometrage since 1999. Dunno yet if it did me any good but it was fun and it was nice to ride in shorts for a change.

Eucalypts! Just like home...
© Jeff Jones
Early on in the ride and Robin is still smiling.
© Jeff Jones
Scenery
© Jeff Jones
A tree above La Garde en Freinet. We didn't have to climb up this far.
© Jeff Jones
Alps (you need good eyesight to spot these)
© Jeff Jones

Highlights and lowlights

Radio Monaco. The best radio station we found after touching down in Nice. That isn't as good as it sounds. But when in France... Alas, we couldn't get it in our caravan in La Londe, so we listened to Robin's iPod incessantly. The alternatives aren't really worth mentioning.

The wind. On the third day, we battled for three hours into a 50km/h headwind, and after a 175km ride the previous day my legs were complaining. We turned and climbed up to the Plateau de Siou-Blanc and had the wind behind us all the way home, which was a relief. Unfortunately, we made an error towards the end and ended up riding down a deserted farm road. It suddenly stopped, so we turned around. But as I was reminiscing about the team time trial in Perth, a big gust of wind blew a shower of stones into our faces, then stopped us in our tracks and blew us off the road into the grass. That's never happened to me before. Fortunately, in the last few days the wind died down a bit so we were a bit less battered.

A shed. This marked the turnaround on a very windy day.
© Jeff Jones
Robin is pleased that we have a tailwind now
© Jeff Jones

Pasta. How much do I love pasta? Let me count the ways... We had it in various forms for five or six nights, broken just once by goulash. Then I had it again when I got home.

One of the many versions of pasta that we consumed
© Jeff Jones
Robin enjoys the first of several sandwiches
© Jeff Jones

Maps. The ones that show all the roads are good. The ones that are dated 1989 are not as good. One of the roads we were going to follow was paved in 1989, but isn't any longer. I didn't do my usual trick and follow it anyway, after Robin and I spied a group of mountain bikers gingerly picking their way along it. We upgraded to a 2004 edition map after that.

Hmm, it says 'Here Be Beasties' for this bit
© Jeff Jones

Bike path. There's a path that follows the coast between Hyeres and Le Cannadel, maybe 30km long, and apart from a few missing bits, it's fantastic. It's purpose built and uses quite a bit of land and small roads, following the main road very closely.

Wheelsuckers. On one of our 'rest days' we passed a guy in the headwind who jumped on our wheels. We didn't mind for a bit, but then we turned towards home and he followed us, not offering to do a turn. There was a small climb with about 20km to go and we picked it up a bit and finally dropped him and that was it, we thought. But he must have chased pretty hard and caught us again with 5km to go, gluing himself back onto our wheels. He followed us all the way to the bloody caravan park before we left him stranded, because the road we were on didn't actually go anywhere else useful.

Good descenders. On the last day, we were descending the final hill, which is fairly technical as all of them are. We both knew it well and weren't hanging around. I heard a wooshing sound past my left ear and a biggish guy flew past me, hands on the hoods! Then he overtook Robin shortly afterwards. We were impressed as we'd passed him on the preceding climb and he didn't look as though he was in a hurry.

The road down
© Jeff Jones
The mighty Col du Fourches
© Jeff Jones
Are we there yet?
© Jeff Jones

Electricity. It got chilly at night, with the wind and the lack of insulation, so we experimented with the heater. There was a fan heater but whenever we turned it on, it overloaded the circuit. Even with just two lights on. So we were forced to try the gas heater. This worked, but you had to put your hand on it to tell whether it was on or not, so it wasn't any use at all.

You can imagine what happened when some builders tried to run a cement mixer off one of the caravan outlets. You'd think after the third time of it cutting out, leaving the whole area without power, they would have cottoned on.

Easyjet. A delay of one and a half hours on the way out, and another hour coming home. Alas, it was the only way. And they charge you extra for each piece of baggage plus more for a bike, of course. Still, it could have been worse. We could have gone via Heathrow and got this, which of course leads me to hum this.

Racing. I did the third round of the Hardriders series today, the Severn RC event. 28.4km/260m of climbing/descent with one 2km drag. With this going through my head, I had a reasonable ride to finish 4th in 42'08, with the win going to Gavin Poupart (again) in 41'14, followed by Nik Gardiner in 41'26 and my Chippenham clubmate Ben Anstie in 41'53. Not bad, as it was a better field than the last event at Gillingham where I was third, and Gavin put 2min into me. And we won the team prize again with me, Ben and Simon Snowden. Allez Chippenham!

I had to ride back down the mountain to get this shot, so I'm including it
© Jeff Jones
Tiredness has set in
© Jeff Jones

Eerste zege

Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Season 2008 is go.

It's not quite as good as Thunderbirds, but it beats training.

The disc wheel I borrowed from Cycling Plus last week turned out to be a boon, as I won me first race by a mere two seconds. Over 37km, a disc is easily worth that compared to my 101mm rimmed wheel. Which leads me to the annoying conclusion that I should have borrowed the wheel for last year's journo world's. Anyway...

I had an easy 40km ride out there, and a rather slower 40km ride home. On the way out I was passed by another Bath-based rider who was in a hurry 'cos his start time was half an hour before mine. He made it with time to spare but I can't help thinking he might have burned a few matches on the way out.

Despite dire weather warnings, the conditions were reasonable, if a tad windy on the return leg. It was the same course as the 3-up that we did last year, so I'd worked out a schedule that would give me a time of 55 minutes (we did 56'30 in the 3-up). I figured I could make up lots of time on the hills but would lose a bit on the flats as there was no-one to give me a break. Turns out I was pretty close in my estimation with a final time of 55'22.

I honestly didn't think it'd be good enough to win. I thought somewhere in the region of 53-54 minutes would do it. Anyway, it was and I'm not complaining.

The start was nearly all tailwind, with a couple of little bumps before the first hill after 10km. I'd already passed three riders by the time I reached that, which was nice, and was a little bit up on my schedule. I gave it a bit more gas on the hill and at the top was already 2 minutes quicker than the same point in the 3-up (although we'd had the headwind first then). A steady descent with the tailwind followed and I reached 19km in 26'45 - now a handy 2'30 ahead of the 3-up time and a minute ahead of my own schedule, which allowed for the tailwind start.

At this point I started getting delusions of a sub-54 minute time, but these were mercilessly ground up in the headwind on the way back. I lost all of the advantage on the return on the A4, really struggling to maintain concentration and dropping a little bit of power. So by the time I reached the bottom of the last 2km climb, I was back on level pegging with the 3-up time, and now about half a minute behind my own schedule. I gave it whatever I had left up to the finish, which was just over the top, and it was all over.

The power meter said I'd averaged 304W for the ride, which didn't instil me with confidence as it was a) lower than I did the previous Tuesday in training and a lot lower than I'm capable of when it's properly warm and I've got a few miles under my belt. I think 350-360W is achievable for that distance (not yet though), and that would knock a couple of minutes off the time I did.

But it doesn't matter what your wattage is if you win :-)

I did feel a bit sorry for the second placed guy, as I know what it's like to lose by a handful of seconds. Still, what goes around comes around in time trialling, and I'm sure I'll be in that position again.

It was especially nice to win because Chippenham was promoting the event and as far as I can see, they haven't had a home winner since at least 1992. I did note that a "J Jones" won it in 1993. We also won the team prize (sum of three fastest riders per club) with Simon Snowden and young Tom Marshall. Result!

Got another race this Saturday, which will be on the same course as the Rudy Project round I did last year, down in Bruton. Just under 30km and 400m of climbing. I think I'm going to be hard pressed to beat last year's time of 44'17 because that was done under warm, windless conditions. On Saturday they're predicting heavy rain, a moderate southerly wind and a max of 8°Ré. Blurgh.

It's a stupid time of year to be racing and by far the earliest I've started doing so in the northern hemisphere. I should be watching Thunderbirds and drinking from my rapidly diminishing stock of trappists.

Dammit, I was going to write something more interesting about my misspent youth but instead ended up with the above. There is a reason I call it a bilgespot.

Postscript

I did the Gillingham race today in the wet and it lived up to expectations. I was nowhere near last year's time, finishing with 46'09 for third behind Mr Poupart, who did a very impressive 44'09. I was never going to get close to that, even on a good day. But I was 10 seconds off second place, which was slightly annoying as I lost a bit of time by being careful and waiting for a car at one of the junctions. But I stayed on the bike, which was more important.

I also took the descent at 8km to go fairly steadily, losing around 10 seconds to the guy who I was on the verge of catching at the top. It had a couple of muddy bends that I wasn't confident taking at speed, especially as one of the bits of tape I'd put over the valve holes on my disc was flapping, which was unnerving. I still hit 68km/h but the guy in front of me - who I never quite caught - knew the course and had better handling and confidence, which is what makes for good descending.

Because it was a headwind start, I was already two minutes down on last year's time by the halfway mark, and yet had the same average power. But I lost a little more on the last long drag, despite it being a tail/crosswind, and only made up 15 seconds from the top of the last hill to the finish. So nearly two minutes slower than last year. Oh well.

I'm probably doing the Castle Combe Good Friday race this week, then off to Nice for a holiday (woo hoo!) before coming back for another 30km TT at the end of the month. Jeez I hope the weather is less crap by then.

Het Volk

Sun, sand and surf. I sought them in Gent but wasn't successful, being foiled by the fact that it was Belgium.

Still, there are other things to be had in Belgique, namely beer, bike racing and bonhomie. These things coincided with Het Volk, the traditional opening of the Belgian season and one of the best races on the calendar, oi reckon.

They put the recently retired Peter Van Petegem (wot lives on the col de la Trap Op) in charge, and he devised a nice challenging course. Just like in the good old days, it started and finished in Gent instead of outside a BMW dealership in Lokeren. Way more fitting for such an important race. Especially as the final turn was across the tram tracks right outside where I used to live on Martelaarslaan.

Philippe Gilbert, top rider and eventual winner
© Jeff Jones

Check out the plumage
© Jeff Jones
Reiny watches
© Jeff Jones
Het Volk is go
© Jeff Jones

I thought Philippe Gilbert (FDJ) or Tom Boonen (Quick.Step) would win, and after Quick.Step imploded somewhere near Ronse it was up to Gilbert to bridge the three minute gap to the break, which had one of his teammates in it. A nice bit of riding there by FDJ to give Gilbert the perfect springboard for an attack on the cobbles with 20km to go. Race over. Gilbert's a genuinely good rider too. You don't win the King of the Mountains classification in the Tour Down Under without oozing talent.

I watched it from the confines of the Irish pub and then Reiny's shop. It was a most excellent way to spend a Saturday, once I had shaken off the hangover from Friday. I'd gotten into Gent about 9:30 and Reiny, Gab, Gwen and I did not pass go, we immediately went to the Marimain for a few quiet ones.

Watching Gilbert win
© Jeff Jones

Saturday night was rather longer. We didn't quite visit as many cafes as last year (seven), but we did manage three or four. The fourth was the Irish pub where we stayed and chatted to Gwen's colleagues for some time (well after closing). It could have gone pear-shaped as the barman kept bringing out shots of blue and green hue, that I believe were alcoholic in nature. Fortunately by that stage we were more tired than drunk and decided to call it a night at around, erm, 6am.

A visit to Mokabon some hours later was in order.

Ahh, Mokabon
© Jeff Jones

Notes

I. Wouter Weylandt was the best placed Quick.Step finisher in Het Volk. It just goes to show how important training langs de Schelde is for the condition.

II. Must bring the bike on the next trip, but only if it's longer than a couple of days.

III. Cafe Igor has gone broke. I'm surprised it took that long. You cannot expect a drinking establishment to do well when the floors are deliberately made to be uneven. The lighting was so cold as well.

IV. Rochefort 10° knocks you around when you've been drinking the watered down stuff they have in England.

V. Despite lack of Schelde training and large amounts of drinking, I knocked another 10sec off the times up the two hills I did around here last week. 410W x 2 for four and a bit minutes, which is OK for this time of year. Also managed 310W for an hour and a bit on Tuesday, not going flat out. Which is also OK.

VI. First race of the season for me tomorrow. I have acquired a disc wheel, so hope I don't puncture it on the way out to Devizes. Or indeed during the race.

Wouter Weylandt (L) and eventual second place getter Nick Nuyens (R) on stage
© Jeff Jones
Igor has gone broke. Quelle shock
© Jeff Jones
Boris and Gab spot a kermis
© Jeff Jones

Bumping for victory

Rowing is the oldest sport at Oxford. Three big regattas a year are held on the Isis (or the Thames, as some people call it) with different rules for each. The different colleges vie for supremacy in each, with a good deal of kudos going to the winners. And of course there's also the Oxford vs Cambridge celebrity deathmatch which has been going on for yonks.

Eights is where it's at and each college has its own boat collection, sharing boathouse space with one or two other colleges. The boats cost £20,000 each so sinking one on the first day of a regatta is generally frowned upon. Because the students are too po' to pay for their own boats, it means an old college boy has to put their hand in their pocket to fund a new vessel. In return, they'll get their name on the boat. This system probably doesn't end up in a high ROI for the old boy, unless they float themselves on the stock exchange and become a going concern. But hey, they're all staggeringly rich so the odd 20K isn't going to matter.

I happened to be in Oxford visiting the other Lucy and Pete, whose bro Ben was rowing for Wolfson in the Torpids three day regatta. I had cycled up from Bath on the final day, Saturday, only getting slightly lost on the way, and was there well in time to learn the rules and watch the races.

Torpids is no ordinary competition where you line the boats up next to each other, fire the gun and everyone rows like buggery to the finish line. Instead, they start behind each other, one and a half boat lengths apart. The idea is to catch the boat in front of you, called 'bumping', then you can stop. You don't actually have to hit the boat, but it happens. More commonly, the cox in the boat in front concedes when there is some overlap. On the other hand, if the boat behind you catches you, you are 'bumped' but have to keep rowing until you either catch someone in front or you reach the finish line.

If you bump someone, you take the place in their next round, slowly moving up the ladder if you've got a good crew. The problem is, there are four divisions of about a dozen each, and because you only get one regatta a year, it can take years to move up a division. The lead boat in div I - should they manage to hold off all those behind it - gets to be Head of the River (uber prestigious). The other thing to aim for is four bumps in a single regatta, which earns your college a set of rowing blades.

Now, on the first day, University College hit a tree on one of the bends of the river and couldn't get going again, losing about 10 places all in one hit. That was disastrous for them, but at least they didn't sink it. And on the last day, we saw one boat catch another but the lead boat couldn't keep going because one guy had broken his oar. High drama there. They lost a few places too...

Ben's Wolfson college had a very good meet, moving up from Div III to Div II, bumping three times but just missing out on the last day on catching Lincoln, which had started two boats in front. St Edmunds (Teddy) Hall had started directly in front of Wolfson, but were faster and bumped Lincoln early, leaving a big gap for Wolfson to close. Meanwhile, Merton was trying to catch Wolfson from behind, and was getting close for a while but didn't do it.

It was surprisingly exciting. Especially when you had someone to cheer for.

The Head of the River, in both the men's and women's I think, went to Magdalen pronounced 'maudlin' College, who jumped a few places to keep long time top dogs Oriel out of the running and down in third place. Champagne concentration in the Isis rose as a result.

Most of the colleges rowed in uniform, and there were some really nice strips. Especially Christ Church and St Johns, who put their white hoodies on when warming up. And the college which had a yellow cross on a red background, which looked like it hailed from the crusades.

We wound up at the Lamb and Flag followed by a restaurant that served excellent bangers and mash, then the Jericho pub, then a bop (party type thing) at Balliol College. Some alcohol was consumed.

All in all, a brilliant Oxford experience.

Retro: What happened to the UQ team?

Talking to Marty, a friend of Lucy's, during the evening revealed that he hailed from the Uni of Queensland. Not only that, he was a good cyclist and did a couple of uni games in the early '90s. I realised our paths must have crossed at least once, and we reminisced about beating Robbie McEwen's team in the team time trial in Brisbane (McEwen won every other event, including the bloody time trial, and he broke away to win the road race solo). Significantly, I learned what happened to the UQ team in the TTT in Melbourne (or Diggers Rest to be accurate) in 1991.

Now, UQ had some decent riders, as we (Sydney) knew after being caned by them the previous year in Armidale. Michael 'Drago' O'Donoghue, Brett Lentz, Brad Hall and Marty formed their TTT team in Melbourne. Uni of NSW were strong too, with Paul O'Neill, Derek Walker and Ben Litchfield, and they ended up winning I think.

But UQ snatched defeat from the jaws of a victory after being forced to rely on a sick Marty as their third man. Brad Hall knew Marty wasn't going to make it so he did the gallant thing and pulled out on the first lap. That left Marty to try to hang on, which he wasn't in any condition to do. He ended up in a lot of trouble and could barely see by the last lap and had to be pushed by the other two just to finish. Hell, we might have even beat them after but that might be wishful thinking on my part. Our team was me, Nick Fletcher, Andrew Redmond (or Tully, possibly?) and Andrew Kelly. We lost Kelly on the first lap and Nick and I had to nurse the third man around for the next two laps.

UQ did get revenge two years later by winning in Brisbane. We got the silver with me mostly sitting behind the diminutive Roy Denoon and Dave and Graham hanging on for dear life. But we passed Robbie McEwen (Griffith Uni) who was dragging around two riders of, shall we say, lesser ability, and the dirty look he gave us was well worth it. It may have had something to do with the fact that Roy trumpeted like an elephant when we passed them.

For the record, we still won it in Perth ('92), Wollongong ('94) and Darwin ('95) but got done by Jono Hall and some ring-ins in Canberra ('96). I love the team time trial.

The way back

After a night where too much beer was barely enough, I was revived by Lucy and Pete's cooking and coffee (three of them, in fact). I discovered where I'd made the incorrect turn on the trip out and navigated to it on the way home. The dead end signs did not deter me. Google maps is always right, innit?

After a few km I saw a wall in front of me, and I realised the road was going straight up it. 15% average grade for about half a km took me up to Barbury Castle and the end of the (paved) road. I was buggered if was going to turn around so I set off on what was now a dirt track and quickly became very muddy. I asked two mountain bikers coming the other way if the road led anywhere, and they assured me it did end up near Marlborough, but I'd probably ruin my bike getting there. You can guess the rest.

6km and 45mins later, I emerged just north of Marlborough, somewhat muddy. Luckily it rained soon after so a lot of the mud was washed off.

It must have done some good as I was able to beat a couple of my hill times later in the week. Then I undid all the work by heading over to Belge for the Het Volk weekend. But that is another story.