Sheltering from the rainYesterday it rained all morning but dried up a bit in the afternoon but it was chilly. But the Clarencourt are a tough lot of old bike riders so they devoted the afternoon to active participation in sport after a meagre but adequate luncheon. First they watched the whole of the British Grand Prix on TV. They were a bit disappointed that in his victory speech the young lad gave no credit to the helpful suggestions he had received from the settee at St Ybard throughout the afternoon. Anyway well done Lewis! Silverstone was wet and cold so at tea time we lit the log stove to give ourselves a bit of comfort during the last 45kms of the Tour de France stage won in fine style by Credit Agricole’s Thor Hushovd at St Brieuc. You might have thought a F1 GP and a Tour de France stage would be enough for one day. But No! Hardly had we regained our breath in Brittany we were off to Wimbledon to compete in the longest men’s final ever at Wimbledon.
Fortunately there were a couple of interruptions for rain which allowed our brave boys to devour our steak and curried rice prepared by master chef Paul Martin and his boy Denbo and to swig down a swift pint of St Ybard 2008 from master brewer Paul Martin, the very same. We were rooting for Federer ‘cos he was the oldest but sportingly admitted at the end that the best man won. At 1030pm our time after an exhausting day of sport on the settee Mick kicked his companions off his bed and we all went to beddy-byes. Tired little boys all and not a pedal turned.
Today up betimes, cloudy but no rain, yet! So a quick breakfast, the mini-market wasn’t open today, and out on the treaders at the unearthly hour of 1015 for Mick, Norman, Trevor, Martin and Paul. How good to have Uncle Norman back in the saddle with us. Not that his return was without incident. Barely 5kms from home descending to the Uzerche road at a brisk pace the Hound of the Baskervilles sensed our approach and sprinted from a house above the road at full pelt to cut us off. Our leader had plenty of space but with each successive arrival the distance between Bonzo and bike diminished until the beast was firmly established in the path of Norman who adroitly disappeared up a side street, while the dog’s owner persuaded his pooch back into his kennel. Unperturbed, Norman continued to battle with his first hills for a year to arrive a Meilhards where we were extremely lucky to find a working man’s café open for lunch – this is France on a Monday remember. Our host produced massive, and very hard, sandwiches and coffees for us. This was the only place we saw all day where we could have bought refreshment, or anything else, come to mention it! At lunch we had good news from Belgium in a text message from Barry telling of a stage win and team victory for the Barclay Boys in the stage race in which he was mechanicing. Shortly after lunch Norman turned for home alone and the other four continued to Mont Gargon a peak of 2000ft with a steep and finally unsurfaced approach to an open top with wide views all around, an orientation table and a ruin. Up here there was the first of six memorials to resistance fighter of the Maquis from 1944 that we were to see during the afternoon. We were in the depth of rural Limousin unchanged for years past, “Courage”, “Allez Pou Pou” and even “Allez Bobet” were encouragements that we received along the isolated roads. Having circumnavigated Mont Gargon we wended our way back to Condats with a bit of fun when Trevor’s front wheel started to fall apart downhill. No problem. Finally we crossed the Uzerche road to St Ybard. Norman had found his way home OK and Denbo had spent the day shopping and preparing the best Spag Bol we had ever tasted. Then it was S,S,S&S, evening meal, watch Samuel Dumoulin win at Nantes from the first break of the Tour to succeed this year. Then it was Lance Armstrong science on the TV for an hour and here’s ours – 49 miles, 4hrs 13 mins, 4,500ft, 731 metres high point, 2,960 calories, cadence 60, 160bpm, 33mph, 11.8mph! Impressed? No, neither are we.
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