We travelled to Col de Rousset on the first weekend in July for stop number three of the Auvergne Rhone Alpes Regional Cup.
Racing went on pause for a couple of weekends before that while Thomas sat his Brevet exams but they’re done and dusted now and we’re in the middle of an action-packed triple-header. I’m quietly relieved the exams were on, or this would have been six race weekends on the trot!
Anyway. We’d never been to Col de Rousset before and as far as I can tell, neither had the AuRA regional series.
There’s not much at the col itself in terms of accommodation and the nearest I could find was in a town called Die…
I’m not gonna lie… I spent more time than usual searching for alternatives with a less macabre name, but everywhere else was much less convenient.
So it was settled, and booked in…
We were going to…
I mean…
We’d be staying in Die.
I made a necessary headset and front wheel bearing change during the week and we set off on the three-hour drive to Col de Rousset on Friday lunchtime.
I love spending time with Thomas, the racing, the people and the bikes, but I’ve always loved travelling too. One of the unexpected bonuses of this sport is discovering places we’d probably never have visited otherwise.
This trip was no exception and it delivered, big time.
We entered brand new territory as we pulled off the motorway and headed southwest into the mountains below Grenoble. I felt my energy shift with excitement as we ventured into uncharted terrain and I started absorbing as much of the new stuff as possible. The landscape and foliage began to change, adding to the feeling that we were somewhere new and exotic.
We eventually cruised past striped lavender fields, oak forests and an incredible slab of rock called Mont Aiguille that I never even knew existed.
I’d booked us into an apartment in a Gite, on a campsite in Die, and after 4 hours in the van at 35 degree heat and no AC, we wasted no time ditching our kit and jumping in the nearby river. Absolute nectar. In true French style, a couple further up river were enjoying their bathing spot in full birthday suits. Thomas was not impressed and we made sure not to swallow any water by accident.
The winding 30-minute drive to the col the next morning was another treat for me. An engaging road through spectacular scenery with ever-improving views.
The track walk revealed that the top section was very dusty and dry with bedrock and loose rock lying beneath and scattered generously about. It was slow and technical up top with tight turns down through the woods. The bottom section was faster, straighter, and more wide open. A coach friend of ours said the top of the track is where it would all be decided.
There were a lot of sections on the whole track that would require pedalling. Yes, it is downhill and usually you can roll to the bottom on most tracks without pedalling but to go as fast as possible and be competitive, you need to be getting on the pedals and accelerating wherever you can.
Practice day went well apart from a couple of crashes. The loose stuff was proving tricky for everyone and Thomas lost the front in a loose corner and landed in jagged rocks . He was left feeling scraped, bruised and a little beaten up.
He said it set him back mentally but he carried on practicing and got better and better as he started to piece it all together. The dust and loose rocks meant that the puzzle was evolving quickly and would need constant adjustment.
At the end of the day he had eight laps under his belt and we left the track with confidence levels high.
We set off back down the hill to…
To our accommodation in Die.
It had been a long hot day and all either of us could think about was ditching our gear and jumping in the river.
We stopped at a supermarket on the way back for race day lunch supplies and then for a pizza at Stagione’s roadside restaurant. Some TripAdvisor reviews had dissed it for road noise but they’d leaned into the location and the ex-gas-station theme, the lady was lovely and the pizzas were banging.
The call of the river was growing though, and I even skipped my ‘sort the bike first’ protocol, giving in to the cool, tempting swirly depths of the river Drome.
The following morning we arrived back at Col De Rousset, and started our pre-flight checks only to find that his mech hanger was bent.. And cracked…
The derailleur was flapping around and I didn’t have a spare… Rookie move.
We asked a few people nearby but no luck, and no time. He’d have to do the first run chain-less. And deraileur-less. On the pedally-est track we’ve been to since the Enduro days.
At least his bike would be nice and quiet.
He scooted off and I started asking around and checked in the only sports shop at the col. The lady ushered me over to her entire range of bike stock which consisted of four inner tubes.
“Merci, Bonne journée.”
I looked up the nearest proper bike shops online, which turned out to be 30 minutes away, and closed on Sundays.
I paused the search to head up the track and watch T finish his seeding/first race run.
8th Pretty damn good.
He said the start and the flat bits were horrific but he also said being forced to think differently made him find more opportunities for places where he could pump the bike and build speed.
We wasted no time resuming the hanger search and eventually someone in the pits said the magic words…
“Oui. Bien sûr.”
“Yep sure do.”
Game on!
We got the bike sorted first this time, and discovered that the headset and front wheel bearing would now also need replacing before next weekend’s race. We breathed a sigh of relief, ate our lunch and then he headed off for run two.
It wasn’t perfect but it still was faster than his first one, and he could pedal.
The trouble was he found it hard to get up to speed because he now focussed on pedalling and was a bit messy as a result. He said the top was a bit loose but the bottom half was a treat.
He ended up P5 in his category which was an excellent result but not a podium place on this occasion.
With a 36-degree, 4-hour journey ahead of us, we packed up, said our goodbyes and shipped out.
Another brilliant weekend. Thomas’s best result of the year, another rung up the progress ladder, and another corner of France we’d never have discovered without downhill racing.
The Col de Rousset and surrounding area were stunning and it turns out that if you do go to Die, it’s a little slice of heaven.
