I was in the car park at Inholms Lane after an evening 10 talking to Stewart Jardine, he was telling me that he was going to France in a few weeks time on a cyclo sportife and there was a space available, he was going with Tony Brown and Graham Kerr of the 21^st Century Airports, who regularly take part in our evening 10s, and would I be interested in going. I had heard a lot about these events and had always fancied going on one so this was the ideal opportunity. After a short discussion with Della, I told Stewart to count me in.

The race was called The La Ronde Picarde and it was to take place on the 12^th September, a distance of 184 kilometres, around Northern France and the Somme valley. I had three weeks to prepare for it. Loads of time. I had already been doing rides of 50 to 60 miles at least once a week so I needed to up the mileage for the next couple weeks. A week later Stewart said that something had cropped up and he couldn’t make it, I spoke to Graham and he said don’t worry the trip would still be on even if we couldn’t get someone to take Stewart’s place.

The week before the trip I was lucky enough to have a week off work and got in some really good miles. Rounded off by a trip to the Isle of Wight on the Wednesday to visit Della’s sister, I took this opportunity to take the bike and while they were doing what sister’s do (natter, natter, natter), I rode round the Island, I clocked up 80 miles, it is a great place to ride a bike, not too much traffic and very hilly in places and lovely scenery. I averaged 19 mph and felt really good. Now I was looking forward to Friday.

We travelled to France early Friday morning in Graham’s American Ford F19.and arrived in Abbeville, the start town of the race, in the afternoon. Competitors in the event have to register the day before. Graham and Tony rode the event last year and knew what to do and where to go. The signing-on took place in a massive car park taken over by Sportcommunication, (the organizers).  It was a hive of activity. There were tents erected for the signing-on, stalls selling cycling stuff, publicity vehicles, a Michelin caravanette giving mechanical assistance and an excited P.A. announcer jabbering away in some foreign tongue. (How I wish I’d took more notice of my French lessons at school). We joined the queue to register, which fortunately wasn’t too long, filled in the forms and handed over the money. It cost 46 Euros, for that you get your race number; mine was No 439, a route card, a transponder. (You attach it to your bike and it records the time you start and finish, also you get 10 Euros refund if you hand it back after the race) and they gave you one of these little pouches for carrying spare tubes in. A nice little touch. I must admit, I felt quite excited; we were all set to go.

 We stayed in one of these Formula 1 hotels, basic and very economical plus it was only a couple of miles to the start. The hotel was full, mainly with other cyclists and people involved with the race. After checking in and sorting our room it was now early evening. Graham wanted to visit a nearby supermarket to replenish his wine cellar. This supermarket was amazing, it had a section-selling top of the range cycling stuff. Ridley carbon frames, campag 11 speed record groupsets. Carbon wheels. Complete bikes, cycling clothes, all high quality stuff. It was really strange seeing this equipment in a supermarket. If Tesco’s was like this I might go shopping a bit more often. Time was getting on now and we had to find somewhere to eat. We found a restaurant not too far from the hotel where we enjoyed a lovely meal. Now it was time for bed, it was going to be an early start the next morning.

At around 6am the hotel was starting to come alive. You could hear the noise of people moving around, pumping up tyres, and preparing for the day ahead. We got up around 6.30 and went down to a compact little room where breakfast was available on a self-service bases. After a bit of nourishment we went back to the room to change into our cycling kit. It was a chilly but a bright morning. Arm warmers and embrocation on the legs were required. I put my provisions of two bits of fruitcake, two scones and two energy gels in my jersey pockets and filled two bottles with energy drink to put on the bike. I was hoping this would be enough. We got the bikes out of Grahams car, attached the numbers and the transponders, and pumped the tyres up. That was it, we were ready. I was really excited now.

 The ride to the start was all-downhill, and we got there in no time. As we turned into the area where we had signed on the previous day we were faced with a great mass of cyclists. Most of them lined up behind a row of barriers which stretched out for hundreds of yards. There were placards positionally placed by the barriers with numbers indicating your starting place on them. E.g. 100-300, and so on, up to well over a 1000. We made our way to the 400- 600 sign and gently rode into position it was around 7.40 we had about a 20-minute wait. During that time Tony and Graham pointed out that the first ten miles or so were run at a really fast pace ‘Thanks Chaps’. This was due to a narrow footbridge that the riders had to negotiate after around the 10 mile mark. You could only cross the bridge at one or two at a time at the most, which can create a massive bottleneck. I was really pleased with this inside information. The P.A. bloke was excitedly jabbering away again, getting ready for the off. At 8am. A loud cheer went up. We were away. The route took an anti-clockwise circuit from Abbeville. Heading southeast to Eaucourt (where the race finished) then south to Hallencourt, then turning east towards the coast at Ault. Then heading north, northeast to Crecy en Ponthieu, and then south back towards Eaucourt.

The pace was MANIC. Graham shot off and disappeared into the distance. Tony was just behind me and we rode really hard. It was unbelievable! I looked at my computer, it was registering 28-30 mph. There were riders everywhere. The great thing about it was that the roads were closed to all traffic except race vehicles and escort motorbikes. Everyone seemed to have the same idea, get to that bridge as quickly as possible to avoid being held up too much. The road was quite flat and sheltered so you could maintain a good tempo. A group of 4 riders came pass me all lined out in race mode. I took this opportunity and jumped on. You could tell they knew what they were doing. I just sat on all the way to the bridge. Brilliant! I looked behind me and didn’t see Tony. Graham was still up ahead somewhere. I managed to cross the bridge without any hold-up, just had to slow down and ride two abreast. It was only about 10 metres long. After this was the first climb of the day, about 1.5 kilometres and 120 metres elevation. I felt good and flew up, passing Graham on the way. I’d dropped the four I had been following and eyed another little group up ahead, when this other bloke came storming by. Whoosh! I surged after him and I was on. Boy was he going. His tanned legs revealing the tell tale outline of a proper cyclists muscles. We caught the little group in front in no time and they also tagged on. There were about 6 of us now all hanging on for dear life on this bloke’s wheel. I was starting to worry now, I’d only done about 20 miles, there’s no way I could keep this up for another 100miles. As he pulled us along the group was getting bigger with other riders jumping on. The roads now were long and straight as we headed towards the coast. I saw another bunch of rider’s way up the road. This bloke towed us all the way up to them and finally seemed to ease up. Great, time to recover.  There must now have been around 40 riders in the bunch still riding at a fast pace but comfortable. I was on the back behind some big Aussie guy, good shelter, when we arrived at Ault. Ault was right on the coast. Up ahead there was a lot of commotion. I wandered what was happening. I could see a lot of people amassed at a corner of the road. A policeman was frantically blowing a whistle, and the crowd were all shouting. When I turned the corner I then realised why. There was a really steep cobbled hill facing us. It was too late to change gear. I was in the big ring and I virtually came to a standstill as riders ahead were in the same situation. A couple fell off, but the crowd were helping by giving some riders a push. I managed to get the cranks rolling again and got over the top but lost contact with the bunch. They were all strung out about 100 metres ahead. After a hectic chase I was back on. Phew, that hurt.

We were heading north now, straight into a head wind. The roads were still long and straight, open and exposed. The bunch was in a long line, everyone trying to fight for a little shelter. It was hard work. Echelons were beginning to form. I had never experience this before, only seen it on TV. Once you lose a few metres to the person in front you’ve had it. Cycling is really strange. We do this for fun.  Fortunately the pace eased again and the groups all came back together. My mind was starting to wander riding this route, back to the First World War. Much of the war was fought over this part of the country we were travelling. Damn. Lions led by Donkeys. . When I looked at my computer, I had covered 80 miles. Good, I thought 40more to go, no problem. I was feeling really good. I decided to get nearer the front. I rode pass the long line of riders and got to the front. There seemed to be 2 or 3 guys working at the head.of the field. I slipped in just behind them. It seems a lot easier here rather than at the back. I felt compelled to have a go and take my turn at the front. I did. It was hilarious. Here I was leading this group of elite riders in the greatest race in the world. As we passed little villages the crowd were out cheering us on. It was fantastic. Mick! Stop it, you’re hallucinating again. I looked at my computer again. 90 miles covered. 30 more to go. I was still up the front feeling good. I was taking longer turns at the front pulling the bunch along. Now I know what the saying having good legs mean. I had good legs. I was feeling stronger and stronger and going faster and faster. 100 miles covered 20 more to go. If I blow up now I could walk to the finish. Ten miles from the finish was the final climb. A 2 kilometre climb similar to Box Hill, but without the zig-zags. It was tough; I paid the price here for my effort and went backwards. The group split to pieces. My good legs were no longer good. I put it in the lowest possible gear and rolled over the top. There were about 10 of us now. Only 9miles to go.  I managed to recover on the descent and rode hard to the finish. I’d done it. I was well pleased. 5 hours 17 minutes 04 secs. 35.38 Km/h.

This was one of the best events I have done. The organisation was superb. The ride was great as was the atmosphere. I can’t wait till next year.

Mick. 

[Previously published in the Redmon Review October 2009]

Click here to download the route card