A little taste of Italy

So here I am, back in the dark, damp rainy North of England, with the memory of sitting drinking coffees in the Piazza, riding dusty trails, and sitting round a campsite in the evening without feeling freezing cold and wet, seeming a long way away! As I type, the rain is lashing down, the wind is picking up outside, and the thought of charging up my lights, dressing up in winter gear, and heading out on a night ride is not particularly appealing....it appears I've become a fair weather rider! It will take a while to readjust I think, and actually feel psyched to go out and ride, rather than sit and drink tea, which is what is top of the list at the moment...

Card and tea courtesy of of a welcome home parcel from Caz...thanks buddy!

Ah Italy, and the last week of my 6 month stint in Europe... and what a good week it was :)
Finale Ligure sits on the Italian coast, only an hour and a half from Nice, but a world away in terms of the feel and vibe of the place. I haven't spent a lot of time in Italy, but after last weeks trip, I'll be sure to be making some more visits...
I can't believe I haven't been to Finale before...it's an awesome mountain biking destination, has world class climbing, a pretty town complete with narrow cobbled postcard-perfect streets, clean, sandy beaches, cheap pizza, and gelato, and of course a great coffee culture...it's a brilliant place!

Awesome views, fun and dusty trails, and riding with your friends...a good way to finish the summer :)

I'd headed over after my work finished in Sospel, keen to go somewhere away from where I'd been working all summer, and relax and ride for myself for the first time in a while. There was the final round of the Enduro World Series taking place the following week in Finale, so I knew there would be friends and people I'd met before to ride with, and maybe the chance to race too. Fellow Trans-Provence guide Emily had a race entry, but needed to work, so we had been trying to arrange swopping her entry into my name. Getting my own entry was out of the question, with 600 riders already registered, and a waiting list that was rumoured to be up to 300! I was a little apprehensive about racing my first ever Enduro race as a World Series race, but as long as I didn't come last, I was just keen to take part.
I had no idea if I'd be good enough to even ride all the tracks, let alone race them, I literally had no idea what to expect. But I found I was pleasantly surprised :) The race tracks were brilliant, and suited my kind of riding well...steep, technical rocky trails with some tight switchbacks, and a fair bit of timed pedalling to weed out the pure downhillers! I was super excited about racing, and encouraged to see that hopefully I wouldn't be last, judging by the number of people who were struggling to even ride some of the technical sections, let alone race them.
The format for Enduro racing, is basically a long day's ride, with untimed Liason stages (although at this race there were cut-offs to make on the liasons), and then timed Special stages. At the end of the day (or two days in this case), the winner is the person who has accumulated the least time, ie the fastest, over the special stages. Enduro is kind of a current niche word for what I would say is essentially just mountain biking...its what most of us have been doing for years anyway! Go out for a day's riding with your friends, enjoying the scenery and the socialising on the way up the climbs, and then race/shred/shralp down the trails, eyes wide with adrenaline and delight, before regrouping at the bottom to share how much fun you've just had! Some clever marketing person somewhere is sitting in a large chair, probably stroking a cat (a la Dr Evil), laughing to himself about how much money he's making from being able to sell "Enduro-specific" products to everyone at the moment!

Pretty cobbled streets, beaches, and epic trails. Finale is ace!

The week leading up to the race was great. I rode with Sam and Toby and their friend Al, organising shuttles for a few of the days so we could maximise the amount of descending we did, and save our legs for the weekend of racing, as well as a couple of days of pedalling up and exploring with the (terrible) local map, getting lost a few times, but eventually finding some great trails. I felt like I was riding well, and it was nice to go fast, not have to worry about clients, and switch off from Guiding mode for a while! There were loads of familiar faces around to chat to, and plenty of time to sit drinking coffee or eating gelato in cute little street cafes. We managed to squeeze 2 vans and a gazebo onto one campsite pitch, and had some great chilled evenings eating tasty pasta concoctions (or pizza...well it would have been rude not to in Italy!), chatting about future bike adventures, and despairing over Sam's Desert-Island biscuit choice (Rich Tea biscuits should be no-where near the top of anyone's list!).

I was totally gutted therefore when it got to Friday and the day of registration. Emily's name was still on the list, and despite our multiple emails and a conversation in person with the race organiser the previous week, it hadn't been sorted. I was gutted, and despite a couple of hours of trying to talk to him, it became clear he wasn't going to sort the entry swop out in time for me to race :(
So once again, I had to watch whilst everyone else was racing for two days...it was like the TransProvence all over again!
However, I'd still had an awesome week's riding, and it just made me even more resolved to get some entries in for races next year :)

It was sad to leave on Sunday evening to start the long drive back to the UK, knowing it'll be a while before I can go out on a ride in shorts and a t-shirt, and simply dust off the bike at the end!

Surprise surprise....it's cold wet and windy in Calais :(

Arriving at Calais after 14 hours of driving over 2 days, it was raining and windy, and I could feel the post-summer depression starting to kick in. But fortunately, Chloe and Jim came to the rescue in Kent, with a warm welcome to their house, a comfy bed, and a feast of a meal at their lovely local pub....hopefully one day I can return the favour :)
The following day I finally completed the journey back to Cheshire, to be greeted by my parent's new very bouncy puppy that looked excited to have someone new to play with....(being more of a cat person, I've yet to decide if the feeling is mutual)...and a huge chocolate cake from my sister Clare, so a good "Welcome Home". The rest of the week since I've been back has been spent fixing my poor bike who has had a long and hard season, and tidying up my stuff after 6 months of living out of a van and a bag! It will be great to see my mum and dad when they are back from holiday this week, as well as lots of other family and friends who I haven't seen for ages....it'll be a busy winter!

New friend? Only if she stops trying to eat all my tyres....!

The other side of the Trans-Provence...

Well my summer is finally drawing to a close, and in just a couple of weeks I'll be heading back to the UK. I've had a great time here, the guiding, the recceing, the new friends I've made, the fantastic riding I've done, but I'm definitely ready for a rest now! The last 3 weeks guiding were great, riding the route of this years race, so some new trails for both Chris and I and the guests, all of which went down pretty well, especially one of the super long descents that I'd found whilst recceing earlier in the summer, named by fellow guide Chris as "Hobson's Choice"....a trail that I love, and that Gareth I know would have thought was fantastic.

Riding the classic Rochers de Bramus trail high above the Guillaumes valley

Whilst the guiding was tiring after weeks on end of riding physically demanding trails though, it was nothing to how totally exhausted and broken I feel after a few weeks of working during and around the Trans-Provence race week! There are over 35 people who I'm sure are feeling every bit as tired as I am right now and can empathise with what a tough few weeks it's been.

When I didn't get an entry for the race myself last year, I was pretty gutted, until I ended up spending a summer guiding the route of the race, and being asked if I wanted to work on the timing system during the race. It seemed like a good option to still be able to experience the atmosphere of race week, even if I couldn't race myself. Having not really spent a lot of time on the "other side" of races, the side you don't really see as a racer, I have to say I was not expecting the week to be as tough as it was.

Hours of printing and laminating!

It started straight after the last week of guiding, with a week spent printing, cutting, and laminating over 2500 signs for the race, followed by inventorising and loading up all the kit needed for the race. That's several box vans full of camping gear, timing gear, cooking equipment, lights, electricals, stationery, food, everything to use for a week for over a hundred racers and staff.

Then it was off to camp zero to spend 4 days preparing everything for the start of the race. Fortunately it was hot and sunny, and despite the days being long, busy and tiring, we did manage to escape a couple of times for a lake swim, and spend several fun evenings relaxing with a few gin and tonics.

Perfect scenic lake for a swim

Pretty Haute Provence villages near the TP 2013 start

 I remember thinking in the days before the race, once everything was starting to come together, that it felt like we were in the calm before the storm. That turned out to be true in more than one way!

The day of registration and prologue was long but still not too hectic, and I had chance to practice using the timing system ready for the race week proper, without being under too much pressure. It's a great system from SportIdent, used in lots of the adventure races and mtb orienteering I've done in the past, but on those occasions all I've done is turn up, scan my timing chip and get a print out of my results....it's a little more complicated from the other side of the computer! When there are many of the world's best Enduro racers and most of the world's mountain bike media relying on you not to screw up and to get on with the job of producing each days results quickly and efficiently, it adds an element of stress to the situation too!

Things started to get tough from then though...

That night I was sharing a cabin with some of the media team, many of whom had just arrived that evening, and were keen to catch up with Ash and his dad Chris over a few bottles of whiskey. Despite trying to get an early night, it was pretty noisy through the paper-thin cabin walls, and so it was well into the early hours of the morning before things quietened down and I fell asleep...only to wake up to the sound of my alarm a few hours later at 5.30. Starting a week as busy as the one I was about to have is not great after only a few hours sleep.

We awoke to stormy looking skies and a poor forecast for the day's racing...not what any of us, racers or staff wanted to hear with a long day ahead.

Early morning starts...Mavic tech team already working too

My daily routine during race week started early each day, with handing out racer's timing chips, sandwiches and maps for the day, followed by quickly packing the van when it returned from the morning's first shuttle wave, with all the food, drinks and equipment needed for the daily feed station and timing station. Then racing round to the feed station location and rushing to set everything up before the first racers arrived. Once everyone was through it was a case of packing everything up, racing around to the end of the final special stage for the day, setting up the timing station complete with generator, huge mavic tent, computer system and live results screen, before the first riders arrived. When everyone was safely back in and finished for the day, I made manual adjustments for penalties, printed the stage and overall results, and prepared the html version of results ready for upload to the website, and to go out with the day's press release from the media team. Then packed everything away, drove back to camp and usually ended up with other jobs to do, meaning a late dinner and rarely getting to bed before midnight each night, ready for a pre 6 am start most days.

Day 1 feed station scenes

On that first day, mid morning, the heavens opened. Dom the video editor and I arrived at the feed station location in the pouring rain, with the first racers already waiting, cold and wet. The conditions deteriorated as the storm moved in, and soon we were inundated with tired, freezing cold grumpy racers. Inevitably, as the staff member there, I took the brunt of their moans....the coffee ran out, why wasn't there more? Was the rest of the day being cancelled? Several racers ended up sat in an ambulance for a while as they were on the verge of hypothermia, and the conditions showed no sign of improving. There was a huge gap between the first and last racers through the feed station, so by the time I'd packed up and rushed around to the finish of the day ready to set up the timing station, about 15 of the first racers were already through and headed back to camp. A decision was made that I should just head to camp and set up there. When I arrived, the camp staff were understandably equally tired and grumpy after taking up and putting down tents all day in the rain, and most of them slunk off to take a break and go and drink beers. Unfortunately that meant I was the only person around, not only to work the timing station, but also for racers to ask every single question related to anything....most of which I didn't know the answer to, but as no-one else was around for me to send them to, I had to help them or figure out the answer, meaning I got further and further behind with everything I needed to be doing. I was more tired than I'd been in ages and struggling to concentrate, and then came some complicated timing problems that needed sorting, as well as pressure from Ash and the media team as to when the results were going to be ready for upload and the press release. At this point I'd had enough. It seemed as though all the racers and other staff were finally relaxing after a long tough day, and yet I was hours from finishing, and doing not only my work, but theirs as well. It was too much, I physically could not do everything I was being asked to do on my own.

All I wanted to do was go home, get a hug from Gareth and relax in each other’s company away from the rest of the world, and the fact that that was impossible made everything seem even worse…I felt so aware of his absence, and how much I missed his love and support especially at challenging times….I felt lower than I have done all summer….I was not enjoying the TransProvence, and vowed that this was the last time I’d work on the race.

I guess since I lost Gareth, my coping mechanism when I’m having a tough day has been to get out on my bike, to get away from everyone and everything and think clearly, to remind myself of the things to be happy and positive about, and to feel closer to him. This was probably the first time I’ve not had the opportunity to do that, and I was lost in knowing how to help myself and cheer myself up. When I finally got to bed after midnight that night, I spent a long time lying there thinking and silently crying. Not a good day :(

 

A much sunnier day 2 feed station scene!

Thankfully day 2 was warm and sunny, and the rest of the week continued to be too. Everyone was in a better mood, racers and staff alike, and although the job was never easy and every day was non-stop from start to finish, I began to enjoy at least parts of it! I got to see racers, both pros and amateurs, every morning, lunchtime and evening, and nearly all were friendly and chatty. It was a privilege to be able to be the first person to see who was winning each day as the racers came in, to personally hand them their results, and to witness the incredibly close battle for first place between Jerome Clementz And Nico Lau as the week progressed. In the end, Nico took the win by 1 second after 6 days of racing….unbelievable.

Fabien Barel and Francois Bailly-Maitre looking at the live results at the race finish, Fabien beat Francois into 3rd place by seconds, after taking the stage win on the final day of racing

It was hard in some ways to see everyone high on adrenaline at the end of each day, chattering excitedly with each other about the amazing trails they’d just raced down, and to not be part of that. It made me just want to be riding my bike! But there were positives too; I made many new friends, and gained a new-found respect and admiration for race organisers and how hard they work to pull an event like this off. I was lucky to have the help and company of Dom, the video editor each day, without whom the task of getting everything set up throughout the day would have been impossible. As well as this, there were Ludo, Alexei and Kevin from the Mavic tech team, who were lucky enough to listen to me jabbering away at them in grammatically poor French each day at the feed stations, Paul from Mojo Suspension who kindly serviced my forks and shock and imparted some factory tuning wisdom that hopefully will enable me to look after them better in the future, and Fay. Fay started the week racing, along with her husband Lee, but unfortunately crashed mid week, breaking her hand and subsequently being forced to watch from the sidelines. I would have been totally gutted in her situation, but she never showed her disappointment, and ended up being great company and one-handed assistance as she travelled with me and Dom throughout the day. I hope she gets a place in next year’s race to come back and shred the trails she didn’t get chance to this year!

Ash chatting to Cannondale team racers Anton, Ben, Mark and Manuel at the race finish in Menton...looks serious, perhaps the beer had run out?!

By the end of the week, that first day was almost forgotten, and although I was glad it was all over, a few days on and I’m already changing my mind about working on it again….(although I’d  obviously still prefer to be racing!).

Inevitably, in the days since the end of the race, after finally stopping working for the first time in a couple of months without even a day’s break, my immune system seems to have decided it wants a rest too, and I’ve been full of cold. Despite this, I HAD to get out on my bike and ride after spending 2 weeks off it, and watching everyone else riding their’s! It probably hasn’t helped me fight off the cold, but mentally I feel recharged already!

Late summer light on Sospel's medieval bridge

Autumn has officially arrived in the South of France since the race finished, and although I’m determined to make the most of still wearing shorts and flip-flops before heading back to the UK, it’s becoming more of a challenge in the cold mornings! Tomorrow I’m heading to Finale Ligure in Italy for a weeks riding before making the long drive home, and although it will be strange to leave Sospel and somewhere that’s felt kind of like home for the summer, I’m more than ready to not be living out of a bag or my van for a while!

I'm already excited to know I'll be back here guiding from May to September next year, but for now I'm looking forward to hopefully catching up with as many friends and family as possible in the coming months, and to some exciting winter plans in the pipeline too.... Ciao for now!

Diary of a Trail Scout

There is something about mountains that moves my soul. Just the sight of them towering high above the valleys below, arouses in me a million emotions, endless questions, and a strong sense of spiritual awareness.

Mont Blanc from Chamonix

They make me think, a lot… Of why I am here?  Of why things happen in life over which we have no control? Of what happens to us when we die, and where Gareth is now? Of whether he knows what I’m doing, how much I miss him, and how often he’s in my thoughts?

The mighty Matterhorn

Most of the very best, most perfect days of my life so far have been spent in the mountains, and so they conjure up memories too, of happy days sharing adventures of one kind or another. From the joy of reaching the summit of a high peak, far above the rest of the world below, quiet nights watching the stars under clear black velvet skies, to sharing a magnificent view of the sun setting below a horizon of distant peaks, and long alpine days where you collapse back at base, exhausted from the fresh air and exertion, but with a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment, knowing that first beer will never have tasted so good. Those same memories can on some days though, bring on the heavy veil of sadness, that since I lost Gareth, is never far away. Sadness that there should have been so many more of those special days and experiences shared in the mountains as we grew older together, and sorrow, that the other person who is part of those memories, is no longer here to remember them with…

Gareth perched atop the Northwest face of Half Dome, Yosemite

I know I’m not the first and won’t be the last to try and explain why mountains hold such an allure and fascination for me. There are countless famous mountaineers, mountain lovers, writers and poets who have tried to do just that, and explain the irresistible draw that we feel towards them. But I think it’s different for all of us.

Climbing in the Aiguilles Rouges with Alison, enjoying the spectacular view of the Mont Blanc range behind.

They make me feel insignificant and vulnerable, just like looking at stars in a clear mountain sky at night can make your whole existence feel incredibly tiny and inconsequential. They have stood there for millions of years, through the passage of time, being shaped by the elements, quietly observing the coming and going of life. I can’t actually even really get my head around it…their immensity, age, and presence on the planet is too big a notion to comprehend for me. But I do know that it draws me even more to them, makes them seem even more silently majestic and beautiful, and to feel very privileged to spend time amongst them. I think I love going to the mountains not because I want to conquer them, but to immerse myself in their grandeur, to revitalise my soul, and to escape…

Being in the mountains allows me to feel…without the need to question what I’m feeling, and that leads to a sense of freedom that it’s hard to find in many places. To feel the refreshing breeze gently cooling your face after a long uphill effort. To feel the exhilaration of flying down a difficult, technical descent, and the mind-absorbing task of staying on your bike through rock gardens and steep loose terrain. To feel the sun warm on your body as you lie in an alpine meadow of beautiful multi-coloured flowers, with butterflies dancing around you. To feel satisfaction at having climbed to a place where only a lucky few have been before. To feel the cool, fresh sensation of rain drenching you to the bone in a summer downpour. To hear the awesome power of nature summed up in a gigantic roll of thunder that seems to rip the sky in half, and then echo for an age down the valley below, causing a quickening in pace to escape to the safety of that same valley. 

One of many fantastic trails I've ridden this summer, perched high on the mountain side

To feel unbelievably alive as you reach the bottom of a dangerously exposed trail, where you have ridden a fine line between safety and danger. To hear nothing but the sound of the wind rustling leaves, a quietly flowing stream, insects chirping rhythmically, and the sound of your own breathing. How many places are there in the world where you can actually escape to, to appreciate that kind of silence and tranquillity? Despite the sometimes dangerous games I choose to play in them, there is nowhere more calming for me, than sitting on a mountain side, high above the rest of the world, simply being.

Lying on a grassy mountain top, watching the clouds go by.

Any stresses, worries, or anxieties start to melt away, time slows down, you can appreciate the things that so many people never take time to. I can think clearly and rationally, I can find a sense of peace and acceptance of life, of all that has happened, and all that might happen, and know that somehow, as long as I can keep spending time in the mountains, I will be able to cope.

So, you might wonder why I’ve come over all philosophical, but it’s because for the last 3 weeks, I’ve been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to be here in the beautiful mountains of the Maritime alps, working, but on my own, and with the opportunity for lots of time to think and reflect.

After a couple of fun and relaxing weeks in the hot and sunny Ardeche with Jo, Simon, Jonny, Ellie and Jessie; including a bit of climbing (before it got too hot each day!), lots of swimming in the river and lounging on sun rock, plenty of beach bbqs, and consuming vast quantities of cheese and wine, it was time to head back here for some work.

Lazy afternoons by the river....never a dull moment with "Team Chaos" aka Ellie and Jessie!

Pizza night in the Ardeche :)

“Here” will remain a secret location for the moment as the trip has yet to be announced and I’m sworn to secrecy about where the trails are that I’m riding. But I’m basically spending 3 weeks scouting and recceing trails for a new week-long trip that will start next July. My job each day involves looking at one of the 6 maps of the area the trip is covering, spotting a trail that looks like it might be worth scouting, or having heard through local knowledge that it is good, and going and riding it to make a decision on whether it makes the cut or not! It’s hard to believe I’m being paid to do this J

High in the Maritime Alps, Destination X ;)

However, as fun as it sounds, it hasn’t all been easy…

Although I have ridden some incredible trails that have left me feeling pretty lucky to have discovered them, there have also been plenty where I have pushed, pedalled and carried for hours, only to find an overgrown, boulder strewn, totally unrideable trail…which I have then had to spend the rest of the day pushing down, swearing as I bushwhack through jungles of the spikiest thorn bushes known to man, and emerging with every ounce of visible skin ripped to shreds, or teetering precariously on a too-narrow ledge where the path has collapsed, bike in one hand, the other gripping onto the rope/chain/wire/whatever has been placed to pull oneself across an infinite abyss below. In fact, for every great trail found, there are probably 4 or 5 rubbish ones. I have never spent as much time taking my bike for a walk as I have in these few weeks! It is a very rewarding job, but at times intensely frustrating. There are trails that look like they must be amazing on paper, a good gradient, following features such as ridgelines or traversing the side of canyons, but on the ground they just don’t make for a fun trail. But that’s all just part of the job…not every path you explore will be a piece of trail riding gold….and when you do find one….all the rubbish ones are instantly forgotten! There are a few that I will be smiling about until I get to guide guests on them next year! I have certainly had a few adventures! J.

This one was a good find!

Logistically, doing this on your own can be challenging too. The trails I am looking for have a strong emphasis on minimal climbing, for maximum descending, as in the trip, we’ll have the use of shuttles. However, on my own, that either means pedalling up a loooong way at the start or end of the day, or doing some nifty logistics of leaving the bike at the top, driving to the bottom and leaving the van, then hitching back up.

Mountain traffic jam

I’ve done a mixture of both. The pedalling is hard, not least because climbing up a switchback alpine road for over 1000m of altitude gain, on a full suspension bike with 2.5 inch tyres, in the sweltering heat of the south of France in high summer, is a massive slog! The hitching in comparison is fun! I guess being a blonde female on my own helps (hee hee!)  but I’ve not had to wait more than 5 minutes for a ride yet, and I’ve met a lot of really nice people who have had the pleasure and amusement of me having a conversation in French with them. I even got invited for an amazing lunch in a beautiful mountain chalet of one family who gave me a lift! It’s actually been a great way to really practise my French. I haven’t seen or spoken to an English person in the whole 3 weeks, there aren’t any here! So I’m forced to speak French or I wouldn’t speak at all! It’s nice to now feel I’m at the point, where although it’s not perfect grammatically, I can hold a conversation for a good length of time on a whole load of random things, and I’m constantly learning new words and phrases.

It’s nice having had some time on my own too. Although I wish Gareth was here, as I’d have preferred his company on these adventures to being alone, there aren’t a lot of other people I can think of who I would want to have spent 3 weeks here with.

I spy an amazing trail...

That can have it’s downsides too though…you definitely ride a little more cautiously when alone in the mountains, especially on little used routes, far from the help of others should anything happen. I’ve had a system of telling Ash my planned route for the following day the night before, and then a text to Emily each evening to say I’m back safely. I haven’t really felt afraid at any points....I actually love the feeling of being alone in the mountains, it’s an incredible feeling of remoteness, wilderness and adventure. If there are sections that are too committing or difficult to ride, I get off and push, after all, no-one can see me anyway so I don’t feel bad about it!

Remote, wild, beautiful

But last week, feeling tired from over a week of riding long hot days, I had a crash. It was one of those totally unexpected ones, on a relatively easy flowing section of trail, which made it worse as I was going pretty fast, and I was absolutely in the middle of nowhere. Maybe my concentration was a bit off as I was tired, but my front wheel came too close to the edge of a narrow section of singletrack, dropped off the side, jack-knifing the wheel and throwing me over the bars, to land on my side, skidding along the gravel trail. I can’t believe I got away as lightly as I did…some painful gravel rash and skin loss all along my right arm, a (still) painful hip and shoulder, and a sprained thumb. I sat on the side of the trail after the crash, feeling pretty shaken, and suddenly very aware that I was a long way from help, on my own. It was one of those occasions where I just wanted to call Gareth, tell him what had happened, simply to hear his voice calming me down. There isn’t anyone now that I wanted to call, so I sat and cried a bit because everything hurt, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, and because no-one was around to see me.

Just as I was sticking dressings to the bits of my arm that were leaking blood on the trail, and very randomly given I hadn’t seen anyone else on any of the trails I’d been on all week, I heard the sound of bike tyres on gravel, and turned to see another mountain biker approaching! He kindly stopped to check I was ok, and seemed as surprised to see me as I was him. We ended up chatting for 20 minutes or so, about bikes (he was on a Specialized Stumpy Evo too....good taste J) and trails, and he then proceeded to show me on the map loads of good trails to try. Perhaps the crash was a blessing in disguise? Anyway, we rode together for a couple of kms, until he turned onto a different trail, and it was enough to give me back a bit of the confidence I’d lost in the crash.

The following day I crashed again, ripping open a big split in my shin, immediately rushed upon by hundreds of flies…lovely. I decided it was probably time for a day off.

Injuries: an unfortunate part of the game!

For some reason, maybe the crashing and the fatigue, or being away from anyone I know for a while, I felt really down for the next couple of days. Despite being on my bike, in a beautiful place, doing something I love, it just hit me again, for the first time in a while, how much I miss Gareth and his huge presence in my everyday life. There’s not a lot I can do when I feel as down as that, and I guess it’s the first time in a while I’ve been on my own, and not had to be busy thinking of other people to take my mind off it. The best solution is normally a lengthy amount of crying, until I run out of tears, and thinking of any number of incredible memories of perfect days and moments spent together…I guess that’s what got me thinking about mountains..

Anyway, I’m doing ok again now, I know Gareth would be really proud of what I’ve done this summer and happy to see me enjoying life again here in the mountains. I definitely feel like he’s looking out for me somewhere near whenever I need him too….there’s no way I should have got away without breaking any bones in my last crash ;)

It’s back to guiding for a few weeks at the weekend. As much as it’s been brilliant trail-scouting, I’m looking forward to knowing that I’m going to be riding Amaaaaazing trails every day again…whoop!

The Haute Route by Bike (but Higher, Faster, Harder!)

Last year, I managed to convince a friend Tom, to ride from Chamonix to Zermatt off-road, on a route put together by long hours staring at maps, and snippets of information found on websites of companies who guide the route. 

The classic Walker’s Alpine Haute Route obviously travels from and to the same places, but on a much higher route that is assumed to be unrideable by bike. We carried all of our stuff for the week long trip, bivvying on route. The trip was great, a real adventure through truly spectacular scenery, but although we found some real gems of descents, we also rode a lot of boring fire-roads, and felt unable to thoroughly enjoy the good descents due to the weight of stuff on our backs. 

I hadn’t thought it was something I would repeat for a while, until Tom sent a link from a website, to a video put together by 2 German riders, who had ridden the Haute Route, along some of the best trails we had found, but also following much more closely the Walker’s route, crossing several high Alpine cols, and ultimately being rewarded with more incredible, long, technical descents. I think Tom had forwarded it out of interest, but was maybe not expecting my response of “Let’s ride their route!” He didn’t take too much convincing though, and a plan was soon hatched to meet up this summer and once again ride the mythical Haute route…but a bigger, higher, more awesome version ;)

Riding high on the Haute Route (Big thanks to Tom for all the fantastic photos he took on the trip! Most of these are his!)

We both agreed that we wanted to be able to enjoy, and properly ride the descents, unencumbered by a heavy bag. So for this year, bivvying was out, staying in huts and hotels was in J. Despite this, it’s hard to get a bag of everything you need for a week’s trip down to a weight that feels like that of a day bag. Once you have a change of clothes, 3 litres of water, food for the day, tools and spares, a waterproof, first aid kit…it all adds up. Still, it was way lighter than last year’s bag, and didn’t take too much getting used to.

Coming straight from a stint of 4 weeks non-stop guiding, I have to say I felt tired, and a little apprehensive that Tom was coming from a desk job, rested and full of energy for the trip!

We met up in Chamonix the day before starting, where Tom was already looking worried about the size of some of the days he had planned. Last year, it was me with the time available to do all the planning, whereas this year, Tom had taken on that job, and I had the benefit of being blissfully unaware of what the days would entail, other than some big climbs, and some amazing descents…how hard could it be?

Tom riding high above Chamonix

The first day took us from Chamonix to Verbier, on the same route we had taken last year, closely following the route of the Tour of Mont Blanc. We had the advantage of remembering the route and not needing to get the map out to navigate, meaning we seemed to fly through the day. A year of riding and guiding on technical trails has definitely improved my riding, and I felt faster and more confident on all the descents, especially having a lighter bag than last year too. Tom seemed surprised, and momentarily a little bit disappointed, that rather than having to stop and wait for me, I was right on his back wheel! We finished the day early and it had felt a whole lot easier than the same ride last year, not a bad thing when the following few days looked as long and tough as they did…

Chamonix to Verbier trails

The second day was almost completely on trails new to us, and we had no idea what they would be like. Looking at the maps showed we would be going high, very high, almost 3000m high, from the bottom of the valley…it was going to be a long day. In fact the two german guys who had ridden the route had split our second day into two days (gulp). Fortunately, a chair lift eased the pain of part of the first climb, and we were soon descending on some of the great sections of woodland singletrack off the back of the hill above Verbier. Rooty, pine-needle blanketed tracks that are fast, flowy and swoopy are always a good start to any day! Rather than climb for hours out of that valley as we had done last year, we then began to follow a trail which followed the course of an old saxon water irrigation channel, contouring all the way around the hillside. It was a fantastic trail, not too technical (apart from the odd section that was too narrow to ride due to our handlebars not fitting between the fence on one side and the rocks on the other!), and went on for about 15km. 

  

Saxon water-channel north shore!

Every so often we were treated to glimpses of the valley below and the scenery beyond, before having to turn thoughts back to the trail to avoid crashing on the exposed narrow sections where the hillside dropped away below us, and a watery tumble awaited if we fell the other way into the canal! Unfortunately, we came across some conservation volunteers part way along the trail, who informed us that we really weren’t allowed to be there on bikes…thankfully they were happy to let us continue this time….a good job, as I really couldn’t have faced descending to the valley to climb back out again, given how much climbing we already had ahead of us!

The first part of the day was definitely the easiest, and from lunchtime onwards, the serious business of climbing up and over the Col de Riedmatten began. A long switchback road climb in the heat of the midday sun took us up the first 700m of elevation gain, before we arrived at the impressive Barrage and Lac des Dix, a massive reservoir and dam, complete with hotel and chairlift up from the bottom to the top of the dam. 

Lac des Dix

Depressingly, bikes are not allowed on the lift, so the 300m of climbing I had thought we would save, we didn’t. More worryingly, a shop attendant informed us bikes weren’t allowed on the side of the dam at all. Our route took us all the way along the side of the reservoir and climbed up the Col and over into the Arolla valley beyond. If we couldn’t use these trails, we had no idea how far round we would have to go by road to reach our hotel in Arolla, but it could easily have been 50km or more. We decided we would have to go for it and hope no-one stopped us, and quietly began pushing up the track to the top of the dam. 

Reaching the top and starting to ride along the reservoir, it was hard to understand the reasoning behind not allowing bikes up here….we were riding on a huge hard-packed gravel surfaced track, that obviously had frequent landrover and 4 by 4 use! Anyway, no-one stopped us, and as usual, all the walkers we met were friendly and cheerful as we passed. At the end of the reservoir, the real climb started….

Almost immediately we were shouldering the bikes, and slowly picking our way up the rocky steep narrow track. A few puzzled walkers looked at us in disbelief, not the last time that would happen during the week! 

Crossing the glacial moraine on the way to the Col de Riedmatten

Slowly carrying up to the Col

The climb seemed to go on forever, getting increasingly steeper and more awkward. We were walking across glacial moraine, big loose boulders, steep scree, and deep soft snow in several places, and the Col never seemed to be getting closer. Towards the end, I adopted my approach of counting 10 steps repeatedly in my head, until I’d done 40 or 50, then I’d treat myself to a small stop and a breather…I only ever do this when I’m really tired and trying to just keep going! 

Almost at the top!

My shoulders, back, legs and lungs were exhausted, and I was seriously starting to question what had possessed me to want to do this trip. It was the longest, toughest hike-a-bike I’d ever done, and I have to say, I wasn’t even sure it qualified as type 2 fun…

The Top....finally!

Reaching the top, with a view of the ribbon of trail that was to be our 1200m descent to Arolla opening up before us, it all suddenly didn’t seem that bad J Despite having to get off and walk the ridiculously steep, loose, first couple of switchbacks (never a good thing on descents, especially having had to put in that much effort to get there in the first place), it was a great trail….if you like steep, seriously technical, rocky, exposed singletrack. I do, a lot, but at the end of an epic day, I was struggling to feel like I was riding at my best, something which this trail required to get the best out of it. Concentrating enough to react at speed to the technicality of the trail and ride it safely was difficult too, but despite all of this, it was brilliant. 

Two thirds of the way down, with arms pumped from the amount of braking required and from moving the bike around on the rocky trail, I was tempted to take the fire road we were crossing, down to the bottom. It felt like a crash was inevitable if I tried to ride the next section of singletrack. Tom made me at least ride over the crest we were on so I could see the trail before making a decision. Reluctantly I agreed, actually thinking in my head that I would still be taking the fire-road. 

Alpine singletrack snaking down through pretty meadows

My eyes were met with a view of a pretty much perfect trail. The kind of one you see pictures of in bike magazines and spend days dreaming about riding, endlessly snaking its way down through alpine meadows and into the woods. Tom shrugged his shoulders, grinning from ear to ear, not needing to say anything. I groaned, knowing I couldn’t resist riding it, but also knowing how bad an idea it was given how tired we were! Telling myself I would ride slowly and sensibly, I set off. That didn’t last long…the trail didn’t disappoint, and it was impossible not to pedal and pump harder, pick up speed and fly around hairpins, whooping with delight. It was a great end to the day’s riding, and that night’s dinner of pizza (only the 3^rd night in a row, but ok as not many people know, but pizza is actually one of your essential food groups…..or so I heard…) tasted particularly good.

The following day took us from Arolla to the town of St Luc. Once again we would be climbing over a 2900m col, the Col du Torrent, from the valley below, but it looked like a good portion of it would be rideable on road and fireroad. Making an early start before the temperature rose too much, we seemed to cover the distance quickly, and even once we were pushing, the trail was so much easier to negotiate than the previous day’s climb, that it was almost enjoyable! 

The view of big mountains through the clouds from the Col

Tom looking down from the Col de Torrent

The descent from the top, down to the startlingly blue Lac du Moiry, was incredible. Less technical than the previous day, with more flowy sections and less tight corners, it was almost as if it had been created for bikes and not just as a walker’s path. The climb over the col had certainly been worth it this time J From there we joined a descent down to the pretty town of Grimentz that we had ridden last year. 

The fun descent from the Col de Torrent

Sweet trails down to the Lac du Moiry

And once again, without the weight of heavy bags, and a year’s more riding on technical trails, it was even better than I’d remembered. Another wonderful contouring piece of woodland singletrack took us round the side of the valley without losing too much height, and then a short push up next to a pretty waterfall led us to our hostel for the night.

The next day, storms were forecast, and we were going to have to climb over two high cols to reach our destination of St Niklaus. I woke with a sore throat, headache, and total lack of energy. It seemed the non-stop previous couple of months of work had caught up with me L Knowing you have at least 3000m of climbing ahead of you, most of it pushing or carrying, is not a motivating thought in these circumstances, especially when it then starts to rain.

Pushing up to the Meiden pass

As we started the slow, slog upwards at the start of the day, I knew my pace had slowed, but I couldn’t will my legs to move any faster, there was nothing there. I felt tired, weak, and pretty low. I was lost in my own little world, concentrating on just placing one foot in front of the other and not looking up at the mammoth hills in front of us. I started to try and motivate myself, as I often do nowadays, by thinking what Gareth would have said to me to cheer me up and motivate me…on this occasion it didn’t help….It simply made me think of his lovely smile and gentle voice, and reminded me how much I still miss him, especially on big shared adventures such as this. Tom realised I was struggling, and we stopped for a while to chat about memories of Gareth and his crazy antics on his bike, and trips shared in the past. It helped, and with refreshed enthusiasm I started plodding once again. 

View from the Meidenpass

Technical descending from the Meidenpass...

...after some awkward off-camber snow pushing!

The first pass, the Meidenpass, after a bit of pushing over some deep snow patches, had an amazing descent down (notice the theme for the descents on this trip yet?!), that once again made you forget about the uphill slog you’d completed to get there. A brief stop in the valley at the bottom followed, while we drank coffee and assessed the fact that we couldn’t see the next hill through the heavy clouds and rain, and whether it was sensible to go over the next pass when thunderstorms were forecast and we had been told it was snowing at 3000m! We decided that we could always start the climb, then whizz back down if it got really bad…we hadn’t come all this way to be stopped from completing the trip by a bit of rain!

Tom helpfully pointing out the way to the top of the Augstbordpass

The climb was nowhere near as bad as we’d imagined, in fact, after the Col de Riedmatten on the second day, none of the passes had seemed that hard. 

Start of the descent

The super fun descent through Embd

We descended from Augstbordpass across snow to start with, then down along pristine singletrack skirting the side of the valley, and onto some awesome steep switchbacks, before getting into Embd and following the brilliant trail we had found the year before, down to the valley. It was for me, the best descent of the trip, a 2000m plus glorious piece of riding varied and totally awesome trails…I immediately wanted to do it again once we reached the bottom! It felt pretty special to know very few people have probably made the effort to take bikes up there, we were part of a privileged few to have ridden those trails.

We ate at the best pizza restauarant in the world (according to Tom) that night, and I maintained my record of pizza every night for a week!

The Matterhorn....how a mountain should look!

The next day, unlike last year, we woke to blue skies, and a view of the Matterhorn above Zermatt. Joining the tourists, we jumped on the Gornergraat train after handing over an extortionate amount of money, and headed up to ride the trail we had been waiting 2 years to ride. 

Not a bad view from the top of the Gornergrat train

The view was staggering, and riding a trail to the backdrop of one of the most distinguishable mountains in the world is undoubtedly pretty special, but it was a bit of an anticlimax. The trail was a bit too sanitized compared to the natural rockfests we’d been riding all week, and the hundreds of walkers meant we couldn’t ride at a speed that made it fun. 

Tom trying to keep his eyes on the trail and not the nice pointy mountain!

It also seemed a bit out of keeping with the rest of the trip, not to have “earned” the descent. Instead of spending hours pushing up a hill to get to the top, we’d jumped on a train…the trail felt like less of a reward than usual. Lower down it headed into the woods and steeply switchbacked its way down on rooty, techy trails with buckets of exposure. That bit was good :)

From there we quickly bought lunch before hopping on the train back to Chamonix. Well, we were sold a ticket to Chamonix. Unfortunately, during one of the changes, at Martigny, I noticed a sign saying no trains were running past the Swiss/French border, and instead a replacement bus was running from there to Chamonix. However, the same thing had happened last year, and the replacement bus doesn’t carry bikes. Feeling tired and argumentative at the prospect of having to now pedal over the Col des Montets and down to Chamonix, an extra 18km we hadn’t planned, I went and argued with the man in the ticket office (in French no less….very proud of myself J ) how it was outrageous that a train replacement service didn’t offer the same service as the train would have done, and demanded my money back after being sold a ticket which was unusable, by someone who knew full-well that we wouldn’t be able to use it with our bikes. After a long-winded process we ended up better off…(only 2 euros 50, but that wasn’t the point!).

I swore under my breath at the replacement bus as it passed us slowly pedalling up the Col des Montets later, and gave the most evil glare I could in case the driver was looking in his mirror…probably not, the French don’t seem to use them much. Anyway, it made me feel better! It actually wasn’t bad, and we were soon sprinting down through Chamonix, trying to get to my friends Jim and Alison’s in Les Houches before the storm that was rapidly moving up the valley hit us. We didn’t quite make it, but were greeted by cups of tea, warm showers, and a visit to the local curry house for dinner to celebrate the end of a successful and awesomely fun trip :) 

Once again, it felt a bit weird to be finished, but it was nice to have a lie-in the following morning, slowly wander around the market in Chamonix, and look at the photos we’d taken, remembering all the best bits of the trip.
I think an ideal Haute route on bike would be a bit of a mix of the 2 routes we’ve now ridden, but I’m not sure that’ll be next year’s adventure….I think I’ve spotted a new even bigger, higher challenge, there’s just the small problem of working out how to cross glaciers with a bike….