Jarnac Cycling Club (Velo Club de Jarnac)

Following my post about integrating into the local community I thought it would be good to share my experience of joining the local cycling club.  If you're only interested in property related posts then turn away now.

Regular readers will know that I had a kind of epiphany before my 50th birthday last year and decided to get fitter and undertake a bit of a bike ride.  Getting up from the couch felt great and I have tried to stay active and keep cycling ever since.

I don't want to mislead you....I've never been particularly sporting and you don't shed thirty years of inactivity overnight.  I'm not going to be entering races but I do fancy riding regularly so I have joined Les Poissons Rouge which is the name of the Jarnac cycling club.

Bizarrely, there is no entry fee, nor annual subscription.  You do however need to pay €50 pa for your licence & insurances and you need a doctors certificate to say that you're in reasonable shape.  You're also encouraged to purchase some items of team kit so that the team looks good when out on a club ride.

It's a friendly club with an excellent local reputation.  There are around 60 members and the Patron is a professional cyclist called Lloyd Mondory who rides for AG2R.  He's from the area and his parents are members - each year he'll come back for a ride or two and I'm particularly looking forward to sharing the peloton with a guy who rides the Tour de France each year.

This week-end I went out for my first ever group ride which was quite a nerve racking experience.  I had no idea how fast they would go or what the etiquette is for riding in a bunch.  Would I be dropped after 500 metres and left to turn around and trudge home by myself?  Unlikely as my father-in-law (who devoted all of 2011 getting me up the Col du Tourmalet) was there too but he takes these rides seriously and you never know!

We met in Jarnac town centre, opposite the imposing Courvoisier chateau.  There were about twenty people there and they're a friendly bunch.  It was sunny & mild so I was bare-legged with no wind jacket.....this caused a mixture of hilarity & consternation as everyone else was wrapped up like polar explorers.  I was also the only person who didn't have a drop handlebar road bike (I ride a Boardman Hybrid Comp as I find it more comfortable and didn't need a second mortgage to buy it) but no-one seemed to give two hoots.

Off we went and it took me twenty minutes or so to get used to the hand gestures and general movement in a group.  Wind resistance is much reduced and you ride 20-30% faster than when on your own.

We cycled for around two and a half hours and the truth is that it was a breeze.  I struggled up the hills because I'm big & heavy but I didn't get dropped and I loved every minute.  I didn't time it but suspect we were averaging around 28-30 kmh and people were chatting throughout.

Whether you are contemplating expat life or are an established expat already I'd heartily recommend joining a club like this and I wish I'd done it sooner. You don't need to be ultra fit either, my friend Paddy joined Jarnac chess team as soon as he arrived here and was soon jetting all over Poitou Charentes for club matches.

As we were riding round, one of the regulars said he liked the fact that my father-in-law and I give the club an international flavour and that they have a Spanish chap join them from June each year.

Wonder if his name is Alberto something......

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Cycling in the charente valley

Can't think of a better way to start off a Sunday morning - left the senior partner having a well deserved "grace matinée" and met up with Paddy on the bridge in Jarnac.  The charente was sparkling in the early morning sunlight and the town was slowly wakening with locals making their way to the market to pick up their bread & croissants.

We set off through the vines and, not for the first time, chatted about how lucky we are to live amongst the rolling hills of what must be one of the prettiest areas of France.  No traffic in sight on the back roads either...just the occasional farmer out on his tractor and a rush of "bonjour's" as we passed a swarming pack of real cyclists on their way to Cognac and out towards the coast.

We're working our way up to something similar too - it would be a huge trek for our strictly amateur muscles but with the sun on our backs and the thought of a leisurely lunch when we get there we're confident of tackling it soon.

Meanwhile we're content to take it easy, soak up the spring sunshine and revel in the fact that neither of us will be on the 6.42 am into Waterloo tomorrow.

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Sumo 1 v 0 Lance Armstrong

Regular readers will know that after my marathon ride through to Barbezieux I fancy myself as a bit of a Lance Armstrong.

Well, yesterday morning was my chance to settle a few old scores.

I was out cycling with beau pere (the professional) and my old mate Paddy. Historically he's always been much fitter than me and when we go out cycling he tends to chortle a lot whenever I begin to puff, pant and whinge.

He's just got back from a two week, all inclusive, holiday in Cuba and he's piled on the pounds....ten in total. His normally flat'ish stomach is a grand reminder of the good old days of darts when Leighton Rees & Jocky Wilson ruled the roost.

In short he now looks like a sumo wrestler who has a MacDonalds fetish.

Whenever we go out on the bikes we have this childish rule that when we enter a new town or village there's a mad sprint to be first past the signpost and yesterday I devised a cunning plan.

There's no Mont Blanc around here but we do have the devilishly difficult Mont St Preuil.  It's a long ascent followed by a kilometre downhill section and then a short, sharp climb up to the village.

I took it easy on the ascent and timed my downhill run to perfection, hurtling past Paddy and gave it a lung bursting, out of the saddle, sprint towards the St Preuil sign.

I might also have turned round and said "eat dirt Sumo" with a sly grin on my face.

You can guess the rest.

Paddy let out a great roar and his chunky legs started going like a steam-piston.  I got to about 50m from the sign when I could hear the swish of wheels turning on the wet road.  Like a rabbit stuck in the headlights my rhythm went out of the window and I couldn't resist a, fatal, sideways glance.

He took me on the line.

He also didn't stop chortling for the next hour and a half.

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Lance Armstrong eat your heart out

Just recovering from yesterdays exertions in the rolling countryside of the charente valley.

My father-in-law has been a keen cyclist for years and is a regular in the amateur stage of the "tour de france".  Since he moved out here he's started to take me out on weekly rides and he just won't take no for an answer.

He had suggested we add an extra stage to our normal Sunday morning route and cycle to Barbezieux and back - a journey that is tiring enough when I do it in the car.

Now, as well as being ultra fit he also has the advantage of a €1500 lightweight racing bike and proper riding gear (yes, even the hideous pink jersey and lycra shorts).

I have to struggle along with a twenty year old mountain bike (brakes not working since 1998) with flat tyres as I haven't got a pump.

Meanwhile, my expensively put together cycling regalia consists of a pair of shorts and an official, yellow, 2006 tour de france tee shirt which is the only genuine item of sports kit that I possess.

Maddeningly, my overnight prayers for rain went unanswered and we set off at 8.00am on Sunday morning. Needless to say there was a strong headwind and the only silver lining was that pa-in-law couldn't hear my foul curses as they were whipped away into the vineyards as soon as they left my mouth.

"Come on boy, I'm giving you 15 years" loses any inspirational meaning after the fifteenth time and it took us 1 hr 20 mins of wretched sloggery (not sure that's a word but it really should be) to reach the summit of Barbezieux.

Then, miracle of miracles, we turned around and everything fell into place.  Whether it was an adrenalin rush after turning for home we'll never now but I felt great.  Having a tail wind helped and we did the 22km's back in 58 minutes.  I even found time (and energy) to make polite conversation and to stop for a pee when he was caught short.

I know that a 44km ride is chicken feed and you're probably thinking "so what".....but nuts to that, it was me pedaling not you and it gave me a huge sense of achievement.

My legs don't half ache today though.

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