The middle weekend of our three-weekend back-to-backer took us to Les Orres for the IXS European Downhill Cup.
This wasn’t just another race.
It was the highest level Thomas can race at his age.
This is effectively the highest level before Junior World Cup, so the U17 category is packed with riders on the verge of making that step.
If that didn’t make it competitive enough, the European scene also attracts a lot of southern-hemisphere riders. They migrate north to escape their winter months and to cram in as much training and racing as possible on a relatively small geographical footprint.
It was a tantalising prospect and we were super-excited.
We had no idea where Thomas would stack up, so we’d agreed well in advance that this was a reconnaissance mission. A learning exercise. A no-pressure, no-expectations weekend.
That approach was making him feel great in the run-up. He loves racing but he was really looking forward to just going along to enjoy the experience, learn the track, make new friends and ride his bike.
A bike that, as usual, needed some attention. The constant increase in his speed, strength and the severity of the tracks is taking its toll on the bike.
The three days between Col de Rousset and Les Orres disappeared in a blur of servicing. Forks, headset, wheel bearings, and he managed to wear out another bike while his was out of action.
As we got ready to leave on Thursday morning, we discovered Wednesday afternoon’s riding had created new play in the frame bearings on his race bike. Too late to fix it. We’d have to take our chances.
We packed the van and set off on our standard 5-hour journey. Standard 38 degrees C and standard absence of AC. An unexpected and pricey Italian detour mixed things up before we pulled into Les Orres, figured out the combination lock at our AirBnB and flopped into bed.
Friday morning we headed up and collected his number plates. It immediately felt like a cool experience. The whole setup felt like a step up. Bigger, louder and unmistakably more professional.
The air was filled with a range of accents from around the world and the English version streaming from the PA was making my life easier than normal.
Even IXS sponsored Wyn Masters was there. Interviewing riders and doing his thing.
With plates in the bag, we boarded the chairlift and whizzed up the mountain.
We already knew this track was going to be a tasty prospect from YouTube Vids and socials. 656m of vertical descent in just 2.6km and with the fastest riders covering it all around the 4-minute mark.
Within a hundred metres we’d already seen enough to know the vids hadn’t done it justice. This was a serious ribbon of dirt.
Dusty off-cambers. Loose rock. Huge compressions. Line options everywhere and none of them easy.
The spectator map asked fans to avoid the top 3rd of the track because it’s very steep and it was a real handful to walk. Scores of us slipped and slid our way down, occasionally losing grip and having to run out to a flatter spot at full speed and maximum stride length.
The steep section ended with rock drops and a long, rough rock garden. The track was taped wide, creating options, transfers and gap possibilities all over the place. I overheard the phrase “This is pretty much a World Cup Track.” More than a couple of times.
The jumps were big too and there were lots of them including a looong road gap and probably the biggest jump Thomas has ever done at maybe 18m to the sweet spot. This track was big, busy, fast and technical. It was going to be flat out and demanding.
As we continued down, the frame bearing issues began playing on my mind. I couldn’t see them surviving three days and maybe 15 laps of this beast. On top of that. I didn’t want them failing when he needed his bike to be running at peak.
He agreed and we headed straight for a Commencal rental shop with a whole fleet of V5s racked up outside.
The bloke told us it would take an hour to do it and that right now would be best. I hot-footed it off to get Thomas’s bike while he got kitted up.
He would miss the first 30 mins of practice but at least his bike would be in tip-top condition.
We returned after an hour and it was exactly where we’d left it. Undone. Jeeze!
No pressure, no expectations was turning into mucho pressure and beaucoup de l’anxiety.
Training sessions start slow as riders suss out features and sections. Then the pace picks up as they get familiar and start trying to ride it faster and faster. The longer we waited, the quicker the current he’d be leaping into.
Thomas wasn’t here with any of his usual riding buddies, with a new track to learn and some of the biggest features he’d ever ridden.
A stream of bikes were coming back from battle with cracked rims, broken spokes and flat tyres. This track was obviously as brutal as it looked.
Three hours after we’d dropped the bike off and with two and a half hours of training lost, Thomas finally set off to learn the track…
No pressure.
I waited anxiously and it actually wasn’t that long until he arrived back at the bottom.
“Holy cow!” He said. “That’s the hardest race-track I’ve ridden so far.”
He’d hit everything except the big booter, a hip with a gravel right-hand corner landing and the final drop. Well done though kiddo. Great effort.
“I’m going to go and do another.” He said.
By the end of the day, he’d done four runs and was feeling good. He’d finally hooked up with a few familiar faces and was really enjoying himself. I was incredibly impressed and proud. To come, get in among it and figure it all out on his own, with the delay and at just 15 years old. Hats off!
We had a delicious meal out that evening to wind down but my stomach wasn’t happy with something and spent the night grumbling angrily. I didn’t want to put that in T’s head so I didn’t mention it as we got into day two.
He set off early and I followed on, buying myself a lift ticket and riding the chairlift to the top to walk the track again and get some clips.
I skirted wide around the no-go zone then stood on a footbridge as he whipped towards me through a big jump line, before skipping beneath my feet and peeling into the woods through a stumpy, rooty section.
I moved on again, down the track to find a good position at the rock garden.
Ten minutes later my phone rang.
“I’m back at the apartment. I’ve got the squits and I feel sick.”
Great!
“I’m going to have a bit of a lie down and see if I feel better.”
“OK.” I said. “I’ll start heading down to the big sender.I’ll wait there for a bit and let me know how you go.”
30 minutes later I got another call, “I feel a bit better and I’ve had something to eat. I’m going to head up again.”
I waited for ages, monitoring his movement on Find My and watching rider after rider flying over the massive booter in front of me. I readied myself to film as he finally approached.
He came through, sent it, touched down successfully and hurtled off out of sight.
Two minutes later my phone rang.
“I had a big OTB (Over the bars) in the rock garden. I’m OK but I’ve damaged my forks. I don’t think I felt quite right after all. I’m a bit wobbly.”
“OK,” I said, “wait there and I’ll be down as soon as I can.”
I picked my way to the bottom and found Thomas sitting in the shade. The forks weren’t as bad as I’d catastrophised in my mind but one of the stanchions was scratched and the rebound adjusters at the bottom of the forks were bent almost 45 degrees. The protective cap was MIA, probably putting down roots somewhere in the forest.
I MacGyver-ed the rebound adjusters straight, did my best to de-burr the stanchion scrapes and gave the rest of the bike the once over. It was functional and good to go.
So much for no pressure.
I said, “Remember. No pressure. If you’re not feeling it. You don’t need to do it… Let’s grab some lunch, go back, chill out and see how you feel.”
We picked up some bits that neither of us were that excited about eating and headed back to the apartment.
The food, the rest and some electrolytes did the trick and T headed back up for seeding an hour or so later feeling much better.
His start time passed and I watched again on Find My as he dropped in and started moving down the mountain. The blob on the screen meandered calmly down in stark contrast to the storm of speed, force, noise and dust that he’d be in the middle of. He blasted into sight in the woods above the finish, flew off the final drop and sprinted for the finish line.
P49 of 95… Not bad.
Well done kiddo. Middle of the pack. Very respectable and quickly becoming clear that this is a level he can confidently build at.
He was buzzing. Job done for the day and time to chill.
Way back that morning, I’d bought a full day VTT pass to go up and film him. I thought I might use the lift up and down multiple times and I even thought I might get a couple of bike laps in myself.
The day hadn’t panned out quite as expected but that thought rose to the surface of my mind again…
It was 15h 30 though and the lifts shut at 17h 00. By the time I got back to the apartment, kitted up and back to the lift, it’d probably be 16h 00. Was it worth it?
“Do it!” Thomas said. “Go for it. It’ll do you good.”
“Yeah. You’re right, I need to.”
I went for it, and was back up and on the lift before 16h 00.
And, once I started, I was getting my money’s worth.
I did a blue, then a red, then a blue and a bit of a black, then another red without stopping.
As I got off the lift the fourth time at 16h 45, the lifty lady at the top said, “À demain.” (See you tomorrow)
More like see you in a few! I thought and sprinted back down the blue to catch the lift one more time.
“À demain.” She said again with a smile as I got off again at the top.
I finished up with tasty black and rolled back down to the apartment feeling energised and invigorated. Just what the doctor ordered.
We stuck to the safety of dry pasta and a jar of sauce at the apartment for dinner, showered and hit the sack.
Race day. No squits, no mechanicals and no hiccups. Practice in the morning, finals in the afternoon.
Thomas headed off for practice and I cleaned the apartment from top to bottom to save on the cleaning fee.
When I caught up with him, he told me that he’d made some adjustments to his run as the track had evolved and deteriorated again. He was feeling confident though and having fun. He was belonging.
We ate in the shade and he headed off for his race run with the ‘No pressure, no expectations’ mantra ringing in his ears.
As he disappeared out of sight on the chairlift, I found a place at the finish line and waited for his start time and then checked Find My to see him set off.
My heart rate elevated as the clock ticked and I concentrated on breathing, relaxing and getting it down again. There’s always the physical risk contributing to those sensations but it’s also deep hope that his bike performs, that he puts down the clean run he wants to and that he gets a better time than his seeding run. Despite vowing not to have any expectations, they begin to creep in as the weekend progresses.
He came into sight in the coppice above the finish area pursued by a dust cloud. He turned the corner, launched off the final drop, skirted the flat right-hander, and sprinted for the line.
The timing board showed 4:32.668, knocking seven seconds of his seeding time. Result!
By the time I got to him, he was busily chatting with other riders, comparing times, race runs and the different things that had happened to them on the track they’d all spent the last three days learning intimately for this one fastest run of the weekend.
I fist-bumped them all and gave him a pat on the back. “Well done. How was it?”
“It was good.” He said, “I’m pretty happy. I got all my lines down and it was a clean run… I could have pedalled a lot more though. I was worried about conserving energy and held back a bit but I didn’t need to, I actually had plenty.”
We watched more riders hurtle across the finish line in clouds of dust while we chatted, then Thomas said, “Do you mind if I go and watch with Sven and the lads?”
“Not at all dude. See you in a bit.”
He chatted with his mates and as the rest of the field came in, the times tumbled and the competition crescendoed with some astonishing times from the top lads.
The strength of Thomas’s category was blatantly evident in the fact that the winner and third place of the whole ‘scratch’ field were Nano Lavergne and Reid Simpson from the U17s. Quentin Barbe would certainly have been up there too if he hadn’t sat it out after a knock to the head in seeding.
When all was said and done, Thomas finished 52 of 95. A very solid result, especially for his first outing at this level.
Three days earlier we’d come here as a learning exercise and to find out how Thomas would get on at this level.
We left with our answer. He was ready. No coach, no team, no sponsors. Just us.
