I had made it a goal since spending extended time here to cycle with a local club. I don't really like doing long trips on my own - I'm used to the camaraderie and banter associated with cycling with HSLCC and find cycling on my own a bit dole - and also I feel safer in a group (in case of 'mechanicals' and getting lost.)
I had met a solo Cat 2 rider a couple of weeks a go who advised me that The Tonniens Club meet at the swimming pool every Saturday at 08:30. - this was wrong on all three 'counts'. I had called into the cycling shop just outside Tonniens the next day to buy some inner tubes and the owner had given me an information sheet showing that they meet at 08:00, every Sunday, outside The Marie!! (Town Hall.)
I was impressed with the information sheet because it showed the route for all the rides in August: a long ride or a shorter version with a bit missed out. The short rides are about 40 miles and the longer ones about 60 miles.
Earlier......
I had arrived in plenty of time and sat on the bench in my HSLCC kit waiting to see who arrived. Just before 8 a.m riders of all ages and description started pulling up; with one thing in common they were all French and none of them spoke much English - if any.
They seemed to regard me as a bit of an oddity, but all shook my hand when they arrived. I felt like it was my first day at 'big school'. I went around 'Je m'appelle'ing ' my a@se off, before realising that nobody was asking me my name. There is a edge of formality in France and people don't necessarily offer their name immediately or ask for yours. It didn't really matter whether they told me their name or not as all French men's names are double barreled and start with Jean i.e Jean-Claude, Jean-Pierre, etc, I was told this by my neighbour Jea- Michele. One guy asked me in French what my average speed was. It was a simple question but I got a bit confused between MPH and KPH.
'Seize kilometers a l'heure' - I obviously meant 16 miles an hour.
'I zinc you ride wiv me', he said
Having told him my average speed was 12 MPH, he , not surprisingly, wasn't overly impressed.
The mass hand shaking delayed the start by at least 5 minutes , but eventually I set off with the slower group. I was feeling good, and looking forward to the ride, but inside I knew I wanted to be with the first group.
It was quite a leisurely ride until we encountered the first hill - this was 'setting your stool out' time. I found that without too much effort I could arrive at the top with the front of the group, and I stayed mostly at the front for the whole ride.
During the ride several of the riders attempted to make conversation with me, but I knew I was hard work. I'm fairly happy with the progress I'm making in learning French, but when fully immersed in a totally French group I found it difficult to understand much of what was said. Some seemed more determined than others to extract some conversation from me:
'Where are you coming from?"
'J'habite in Est Sussex, mais Je reste in Clairac pour le deux dernier moins'
'Pres de Brighton?"
'Oui'
' You must know......(name escapes me)!'
'Non, pardon'
'Oh, stronge! - zay leeve in Brighton and yet you do not know zem?'
Anyway, after about 40 miles and a few hills we were back in Clairac.
One of the guys ( I didn't know his name, but assumed it was Jean) bade me follow him home and said he would go through some paperwork with me. I felt encouraged by this because it obviously showed that he was happy for me to ride with them again.Back at his house he opened a bottle of chilled Perrier, which tasted like champagne, and introduced me to his wife who is also the club treasurer (she also cycles with the club.)
The thing about French is that as well as sounding strange the hand writing also looks odd with different flourishes on some of the numbers and letters so that I had problems reading email addresses and telephone numbers; and they had the same problem with mine (although my hand writing is appalling at the best of times.)
His wife explained that I could join the club and start paying subscriptions in September when the new season starts. I am pleased to have found a group of riders whom I can cycle on Sunday mornings, and also they do organise trips - to the Pyrenees, in June, in particular. They do have a smart blue and yellow kit, but like HSLCC, most of them don't wear it. One surprising aspect of joining the club is that it does require a doctor's letter to say you are fit to cycle and then you get a photo I.D. There was an amusing incident when the wife was scrutinising my mobile number with a look of uncertainty on her face:
'Zis will not work 'ere in France, it 'as too many nermbers'
'It is an English mobile so you have to dial 0044', I explained.
Unconvinced, she tapped in the number on her mobile We all waited silently in anticipation for the phone to ring - there was a pregnant pause that lasted ages which allowed the tension to build.
'BRRRR,BRRRR,BRRRR'
We all 'jumped' in shock, looked at each other, and started giggling.
Having given her all my details, I said I must be going. She looked at her husband and asked how I was getting back.
'I'll go back along the main road to Clairac'
'You must go wiv 'im, it is very dongerous'
He nodded and smiled in agreement and put his helmet back on. By this time - about 12:30 P.M - the sun was really beating down and I felt touched that he was happy to accompany me back via a safer route.
He led through some back roads and onto the Voie Vert (I had been on this from Clairac, but hadn't managed to locate it going the other way.) He led me over this quite hilly route until almost back at Clairac, and then he said farewell.
I expressed my gratitude and said, in bad French:
'I don't know your name'
'Jacqui', he replied (well it starts with a 'J' anyway)
When I got home Vicki was having lunch on the shady terrace with Isabelle (the friend who was staying with us), I pulled along side and slumped over my bike, panting for breath.
'It was that tough then?', Vicki said.
'No, the ride was O.K it's the drive that does me every time'
I have mentioned it before but the short haul from the gate to the house would be classified as unclassified if it was classified at all - If in doubt ask Matt Schubert who punched the air in triumph after he negotiated it on his recent visit.
Sunday 21st August
11:30 a.m - Lafitte-Sur-Lot
'Arrettez!, arretez!.....STOP!'
The cry went out from one of the French cyclists following my puncture near the end of my second outing with the club, and it confirmed my theory that the French have two words for 'stop' .
Two of my fellow riders took control of the situation and fixed the puncture for me, I just supplied the 'chambre d'air' and they did the rest - even pumping the tyre up for me. I was very grateful for this and was again touched by their kindness. The older of the two - a guy in his late 60s or early 70s, wiped his greasy hands on the grass and I shook his hand. He was an amazing rider for his age; looking like a coat hanger wrapped in lycra with brown boney legs but honed muscles.
Earlier.......
I arrived 10 minutes early for my second outing with the club feeling much more relaxed than I had the previous week.
Some of the familiar faces arrived including Jacqui and his wife:
'I can confirm zat you can join zee cloobe after you 'ave seen zee doctor', she said
Another guy pulled alongside me who spoke good English. He was riding a Pinerello 'Dogma'.
'I love the bike', I said
'Eeetz the sam bike zat Chris Froome rides', he said with pride ( I would be proud as well).
He told me that he was an estate agent.
'You must sell a lot of houses' (I thought to myself)
After the usual mass hand shaking I watched the 'Premier Group' set off head off - destination Pujols.
The guy on the Pinarello gestured for me to ride with him
'Are you sure?', I relied
'We 'ave discussed you and zinc you should ride wiv erse'
Well I have to say my chest swelled with pride. I didn't dare to glance back at Jacqui and just hoped he was part of the decision.
This was an altogether different pace to last week and I immersed myself in the pack of 10 riders and hoped I didn't disgrace myself.
The first real test was on the fairly steep incline up to Grateloup.
One of the group pulled alongside.
'Are you O.K, monsieur, it eez not too turf?
'No, I'm O.K, thank you'
'Oh, O.K I'll shall now go on a ed'
He tried to pull away, but we carried on at the same speed - this is my 'stomping ground' and I was feeling good.
Once on flatter ground he said.
'Today we will do a very long ride - quatre vingt dix kilometres, and it eez very 'illy'
'No problem, the same as my rides in England.' (sometimes!)
I did struggle at times but I was never dropped and was usually in the middle of the group.
Halfway through the ride the leader called things to a halt because someone at the back had a problem. I cycled back to see what was happening and they were looking for an allen key. I was amazed to see that most of them didn't have any saddle bags and none of them appeared to have any tools!
I pulled out my multi tool to cries of:
'Bravo!'
Ten minutes later another of the group had a problem with a dropped saddle, again I produced my tool and saved the day.
Overall the ride was probably similar to a Pre BBR Brighton Special, but I loved the experience of riding with a new group. Even though the language is an issue at times, cycling is cycling whether it's France or England.
I found it interesting to compare cycling with HSLCC and the Tonniens club. The age range is similar i.e mostly middle aged men. Strava is unknown to them; some use Garmin software, but mostly they just seem to have small bike computers, but they all have top carbon bikes. There is not much hand signalling going on but then there aren't many pot holes (I've hardly seen any), and there is much less traffic - only occasionally do you hear a cry of 'voiture'.
Although I've only been out with them twice I do feel they have accepted me, and I feel I have earned some respect through keeping on the pace (and also for owning a multi-tool.)
For me the pleasure of living here is partly the old cliche of the slower pace of life, consistently great weather and the outside lifestyle, but also the richness of the experience and the discoveries to be made.
Mostly, now, we just chill out, having spent the first few weeks constructing a new front garden. Low point for me would be discovering that a lot of the newly laid slabs had not stuck because I hadn't made the 'muck' wet enough and meant I had to relay them the next day. Memorable moment: watching a small song bird feeding on insects in our garden being swooped on and carted off squealing by a huge hunting bird to be eaten alive - what a cruel bitch Mother Nature can be.
Anyway, I'm back for a few weeks on the 31st Aug and very much looking forward to a BBR, a Chain Gang and meeting up with old friends.Peter Buss
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