After the previous weekend’s next-level European comp, we were back to French Nationals at Puy Saint Vincent.
It’s just up the road from the Les Orres, so many of the riders went straight from one to the other. The field was the usual French Cup crowd, bolstered by some of the foreign contingent who’d stayed on from the previous weekend.
Les Orres had also sounded the death knell for Thomas’s rear wheel, so his rig was sporting a brand spanker. New tyre. New cassette. New front wheel bearing (again)… and I’d spent another two hours straightening the front wheel.
We picked up Thomas’s mate from Morzine U19s, whose folks would be meeting us there and hit the road.
I briefly mentioned an unexpected Italian detour in the last post. After reluctantly handing 74€ over to the highwayman, I mean toll worker, at the Frejus tunnel the previous weekend, I was keen to avoid a repeat performance.
Thomas locked in a new route that would add 16 minutes but stay in France and save us 74€ for the parts fund.
The new route took us over Col de Galibier, from Saint Michel de Maurienne to Serre Chevallier. One of the finest stretches of road I’ve ever had the good fortune to enjoy.
It rose and rose through pine and mixed woodland into hints of Scottish Highlands on steroids. Then it opened into a landscape skirted by magnificent ridges, epic scree fields and lofty glaciers before topping out at an elevation of 2642m. A few terrifying exposed road edges added to the drama and a healthy helping of marmots lining the route was the icing on the cake.
A brain fart on my part meant we’d missed the official track walk though. The one with the chairlift access. I thought it was the following morning, so we were in for an evening hike when we arrived.
Five hot, sticky but stunning hours after leaving home, we met the others in Puy Saint Vincent, ditched the van and scuttled off up the track.
It’d be 2.1km distance and 405m vertical to the top of the hill, then straight back down again.
The bottom two-thirds was open and fast with a lot of flat corners but the going got tough toward the top with steep and technical sections that were once again a challenge to walk.
They had had some rain and some of the track was slick, but it wasn’t worth factoring in. With the heat and amount of hot dry dirt beneath, it’d be no time until those parts were dusty powder fields again.
We’d booked a shared apartment with our friends for this weekend and with five of us in 35 square metres, it was going to be a cozy affair. It got off to a good start though, with Ang rustling up dinner while we walked the track and chilling a pack of beers in the fridge ready for our return.
As the lads get older and as they seed better, the start times get more civilised. We don’t always have to be up and out at sparrow’s fart in the morning, and we headed to the pits for a respectable start time feeling relaxed and unhurried.
By lunchtime they’d ticked off all the features, were experimenting with lines and building speed.
After lunch, Kev and I decided we should probably take the opportunity to explore and bag a few laps ourselves. We bought an afternoon ticket and, as regular punters, were allowed to skip the queue of racers and board the lift first.
I still felt a bit bad though and gave a conciliatory nod, wave and “Cheers guys.” to the ones at the front.
Puy Saint Vincent turned out to be a real treat. Blended in with the usual bike park and natural fayre, there were loads of fun flat corners which reminded me of mountain biking in the old days somehow. Like old-school single track, about a foot wide, where the berm was the 10cm high lip at the edge which curled up to meet the vegetation. Lock your tyres in there and rail those mini berms.
The apartment may have been cozy but the building had a pool and we were all in it in a minute when we got back that evening. We ran a tag team on the shower afterwards and headed out for some din dins… And a beer… Or two.
Thomas and I had our fingers crossed that there’d be no stomach issues after this one. We didn’t want anything to compromise his race weekend first and foremost but we didn’t want cozy to become over-familiar real fast!
Saturday morning would consist of more group practice sessions ahead of seeding in the afternoon.
T had a good few laps and was feeling great. He put in a few laps with a newer mate who he’d be going to school with next year. The camaraderie in this sport is something I really love and the riders are always forming new friendships, sharing insight, opinions and helping each other out.
Everything was going great until his final practice run when he had an awkward low-speed crash. It wasn’t fast but he landed on a rock and bashed up his shoulder and forearm. He was OK though and the bike had escaped damage but he’d now have the extra challenge of shaking that from his mind for his seeding run after lunch.
We also received official messages that the big booter jump in the middle of the run would be closed for seeding because of high winds. That meant they’s be riding the ‘chicken run’ around it for the first time on their timed run.
While we waited, word came in on the family WhatsApp group. Thomas’s sister was smashing it (or splashing it) doing her own thing at a swimming competition in Evian with a win and silver.
She doesn’t get much of a mention on here but she’s already achieved some amazing things in the pool, including multiple national titles in the French Estivale league. I’m chatting here about the time spent driving all over and supporting Thomas but we’ve spent plenty of time on the road for the swim comps over the years as well. Both of them have done so well but they didn’t really need to do anything for me to love ‘em to bits and be supremely proud.
Anyway, as the lads start times approached, us parents moseyed up to the finish line to greet them on their arrival. When Thomas appeared out of the woods, he was in full tuck again and not pedalling. Crickey Bob! What now?
His chain had come off right at the top but thankfully his pedals were free to move and it hadn’t got snagged in anything on the way down. He was still happy though and his time was OK despite it. Further investigation revealed that his top chain retainer which had been getting a bit floppy and had decided it had had enough.
Thankfully, our Kev and Arch had a spare, so I quickly swapped it out ready for race day.
We ate in the apartment again, chilled out, then got an early night unaware of the England-France World Cup, runner-up goal-fest taking place across the pond.
We woke with pleased amazement to the news, then set about getting ready, packing up and cleaning the place down to save more cash for our respective parts funds.
Practice went without issue, mechanical or pilot, and we rechecked the start times calculated from yesterday’s seeding. The big booter had been reopened and Thomas headed up for his race run start time.
He was feeling a little tender after yesterday’s crash and his back felt stiff. Some stretches and warm-ups at the top got things moving and when it was time to drop, he was ready.
He crossed the line pleased with the run. It was clean, four seconds quicker than seeding and another solid step forward. Straight afterwards, though, he was already analysing it. More places to pedal. More opportunities to tuck. Better lines. Less braking.
He still feels that he rides more cautiously in race runs than he does in practice. That’s probably the next piece of the puzzle.
All in all he was very happy.
Only his second French National race and he’d come 18th of 79. Fifth among the 2011 riders.
Another weekend, another step forward and there was only one thing left to do.
Get home.
I’d been quietly looking forward to round two of Col de Galibier but guess what?
Road closed for the Tour de France Etape… Bloody road bikers… Kidding. Just kidding.
The alternative was a six-hour detour or… Back to the Frejus tunnel.
Frejus it was. Another €74 into the tunnel and out of the spares fund.
We drove home in good spirits with a growing feeling that we’re heading in the right direction…
