Anyone who has spent any time at all on this blog or, indeed, around me over the past year will know all about The Bike Ride. The result of a drunken chat between me and my old mate Mark (original back story here) it turned into something rather more significant and worthwhile, as ten men good and true raised nearly £12,000 for charity by cycling from London to south-west France. More stuff on the adventure here and here.
As you can see below, we had such a fantastic time (and have clearly forgotten about the tired bits) that we’ve decided to do it all over again in 2009. Slightly tougher route this time though…
One thing that we did decide during the ride this year was that our happy little band needed a name, and that name is ‘Les Veloistes Gentils’. We went for a French one because France plays such an important part of what we get up do and, frankly, it sounds cool.
‘Veloistes’ isn’t actually a real word. The French word for bike is velo and the word for cyclist is cycliste, so we’ve combined the two. Nice, huh? The most literal translation for ‘gentil’ is ‘kind’, but it actually means slightly more than that. ‘Gentil’ is about kindness, sure, but also generosity and respectfulness. All round good stuff. And it certainly describes every member of the little equipe that we formed this year. One member of the team, young Tim, has designed the rather lovely logo that you can see here and which will adorn the jerseys next year. There are even rumours of tattoos…
It’s an exclusive little club and one of which you can only become a member by participating on one of the rides, which I very much hope will be an annual event for many years to come. Les Veloistes Gentils already looks like it will be expanding in 2009 as we’ve had a few more sign up for the ride. Who knows how large it might become in the future?
It comes right back the next morning though, I can tell you.
Regular viewers will know that for the past few months I’ve been organising a charity bike ride between London and St. Emilion. Well, last Friday was the day of reckoning as the ten riders gathered at Hampton Court Palace along with our trusty support vehicle driver Nuts (not his real name…).
To cut a long story short, we all made it to the finish. We had one crash – spectacular but no serious injury – two punctures, a little bit of rain, plenty of sunshine, a lot of laughs and some extremely sore limbs. We’re all very aware of where our perineums are and have boosted sales of Sudacream and Haribo to new highs (Haribo soon to be repositioned as the elite athelete’s energy boost of choice). British drivers are as dangerously impatient with cyclists as French ones are respectful. A fresh baguette filled with butter, cheese, ham and Dijon mustard is the world’s best lunch, without question. Vittel is the water of champions (but Chateau d’Yquem ’95 is otherworldly). There are some extraordinarily good and generous people around. There’s a deeply meditative quality to the sound of ten well-prepared road bikes whirring along an otherwise silent French country road in the sunshine.
I can’t wait until I get the chance to do it again. And best of all, in addition to having an amazing trip, we raised somewhere in the region of £10,000 for charity.
Can’t be bad.
Yes, this time next week I’ll be a few kilometres into the 650 or so that lie between Hampton Court Palace and St-Emilion, wrapped in Lycra resembling that in the picture to the right and accompanied by nine other like-minded middle aged fellas. Tension will no doubt be high…Lycra’s not designed to stretch quite that much after all…but I’ll actually just be relieved to get on the road.
I’m a relatively organised fella, but organising the ride has been quite a logistical challenge. It sounded easy enough – ten blokes on bikes, a van in support, a ferry crossing and a few hotels en route – but the details…oh the details. I won’t bore you.
I was in London last weekend and managed to get some training in. I picked up a new bike from Condor on Gray’s Inn Road, met friend and fellow-rider Mark at his office near St Paul’s and then followed him home to Wimbledon.
Excuse my blasphemy, but Christ on a bike! And even he’d have filled his nut-hugging shorts. I haven’t cycled through London traffic in years and doing so during Friday rush hour on a brand new bike was one of the hairiest things I’ve attempted for a while. Still, we arrive safely and met up with a few of the other lads for a training ride around Surrey last Saturday. Great fun, and everyone seems to be getting quite excited about the ride.
I’ll be looking forward to landing on French shores next Saturday morning and finding some quiet country roads where motorists respect your passion for cycling rather than resent it.
As I’ve mentioned before (and the eagle-eyed out there will see the logo on the jersey above) we’re doing the ride in aid of NCH, one of the worthiest charities I know. You’ve still got time to sponsor me – you can do so here. I’m not far off my target…
I’m hoping to find the time (and the internet connection) to blog a couple of times on the way, and I’ll also try to send the odd tweet. You can follow me on Twitter here.
My regular reader(s) will know about the charity bike ride I’ve been organising. Others can read about it here.
At various times over the past few months I’ve been poring over maps (old fashioned offline ones, too) trying to finalise the best route for our little peloton to take on its way from London (well, Hampton Court) to St. Emilion. Some aspects of the trip are set in stone. For example, we’re on a ferry from Portsmouth to St. Malo and will also be stopping at my house for one night. Beyond that, it’s pretty flexible. Not too flexible, though, as my general route planning methodology has been based upon the flightpath of the crow.
As luck would have it (or not) the third stage of this year’s Tour de France starts in St. Malo and heads to Nantes. We’re not planning on going quite as far as Nantes in the one day, but can at least cover the first 85km of the stage as we make our merry way south.
Anyway, if you’re interested, here are the routes mapped out on the wonderful Sanoodi:
Day 1: Hampton Court to Portsmouth
Day 2: St. Malo to Redon
Day 3: Redon to La Roche-sur-Yon
Day 5: Les Chapelles to St.Emilion
Wish us luck. We should arrive in St. Emilion on May 6th. There’s still plenty of time to sponsor me, and you can do so here.
Last year my old mate Mark and I decided that we needed to undertake a grand physical challenge while we were both still in our 30s. We decided that – as we did when we were at school together – it’d be a good idea to cycle from Mark’s house to mine. We grew up in Hertfordshire, and the distance from Codicote to St. Ippolyts was about 10km. In fact I imagine it still is.
The distance from Wimbledon – where Mark now lives – to my house in France is about 750km, depending on the Channel crossing you take. It’s unlikely that I’ll be back by teatime.
Still, a challenge is a challenge and we’re doing it. Not only that, but we’re going past my house and all the way down to St. Emilion, which seemed like a suitable place to collapse. We’re starting on May 2nd and should arrive on May 6th. We’ve even managed to convince some similarly middle-aged friends to come along too. In all, there’ll be 10 of us hauling our generous backsides onto the unforgiving saddles of road-racing machinery of varying quality and vintage. Should be quite some sight.
It’s all for charity of course. Our headline beneficiary is NCH, and a very worthy one it is too. Ken Deeks gave a moving speech about NCH’s work at The Flackenhack Awards last year and I can’t think of a better cause for which to be riding.
You can sponsor me here personally (all contributions very gratefully received) and if you represent a company and feel that having your logo stretched across ten slow-moving arses would be good for business, then I’d love to hear from you. There’ll be room for the biggest of logos, I assure you.
Oh, I’m also after the loan of a van for a week. Long-wheelbase Transit size. Ta.
“Anymore of your cheek sonny and you’ll feel the back of my hand…”
Funny little phrase that. I’d have thought “the front of my clenched fist” might’ve been a better deterrent, but there you go.
Of course “the back of my hand” has a double meaning. There’s the corporal punishment for children one as described above and then there’s the one about knowing something (generally a physical location) particularly well. “I know Soho like the back of my hand”, as someone might utter.
I came across a website called backofmyhand.com earlier today. It was mentioned at the bottom of a Hotmail I received from a friend (sorry, a “Windows Live Hotmail”). Not surprising really, as it turns out that it’s a Microsoft owned website – out of the Windows Live team and all based on Virtual Earth (bit of disclosure here – I’ve done a bit of work for Microsoft over the years. I’m not at the moment though – and I’ve never worked with the Windows Live people).
Actually, I think the fact that it’s a Microsoft site has been its problem, as I can’t imagine it gets any great focus alongside the other Live properties. The fact that the latest additions to the site seemed to have been made back in March this year seem to endorse the fact. It’s a shame, because I think it’s a brilliant idea (which probably means it’s being done somewhere else even better…probably based on Google Maps).
Basically, this is how it works. If you know a particular area like the back of your hand, you can pinpoint it and places of interest on the map with a little description. It can be as broad or as specific as you like. So, you might do “brilliant boozers in Barnet” or, equally, “Speed cameras in Stockport” or “Nice things to do on the Isle of Wight”. You can search the site on location or interest. It’s cool – and could be really useful if it was populated well. Problem is, there are only 107 entries on the whole site! Shame. I wonder if they’d sell it to me?
Here are another couple of links for the fellow cycling nuts out there. In a follow-up to my slightly odd Rapha post below and some bike porn surfing this afternoon, I think I might have found my dream bike brand, Witcomb Cycles in Deptford. Witcomb has been custom-making bike frames since 1949 and is now the only bespoke framebuilder left in London. Just beautiful bikes – check out the lugs on that.
I found the Witcomb website from a link of the site of the Tweed Cycling Club, which is also based in south-east London. Tweed CC eschews the technology and modernity that has overcome modern road cycling. The website’s a joy to read – take this for example:
“Why spend a king’s ransom on the latest titanium confection when any weight advantage will be rendered irrelevant by a cheese-and-pickle sandwich and thermos of soup?”
So, Fernando Alonso has left McLaren. They must be delighted. He’s a top driver, no doubt, but demonstrated this season that he’s got the temperament of a three year old. Sure, as a two time world champion turning up at one of the best teams he’d have expected to be quick – and he was. But because his rookie team mate turned up and blew him away over the early part of the season he threw his toys right out of his very fast pram.
“The team aren’t giving us equal treatment,” he bleated. Did he expect sympathy? Sorry son. You’re paid millions of pounds and you’re driving one of the fastest cars on the grid. Just get on with the job. But he couldn’t stop moaning and has talked his way into an almost certainly inferior bit of kit for next season. Pillock.
Everyone’s talking about where Alonso will turn up next. I’m more interested in who’s going to get the second McLaren seat. Ron Dennis has always said that he’ll have two top drivers in his team, rather than a number one and number two. But is that the right thing to do? After all, this season Alonso and Hamilton scored 218 points between them – the Ferrari drivers only 204. But it was Raikkonen who walked off with the title. McLaren hasn’t won a drivers’ title since ’99. Perhaps it’s time for a clear team leader? I think so.
Ron, in case you’re reading. I’ll happily play second fiddle to Hamilton in 2008. I absolutely promise not to outshine him.