In the event, six intrepid members of the biking group assembled at the Divonne Lake (ice-cream shack) starting point: Bill, Ivan, Mark, Mervyn, Paul and a late-entry – our man from the mountains, Peter T.
Several apologies for absence had been submitted exhibiting varying degrees of justification (no names, but you know who you are!).
Monsieur Météo promised to be benign – warm, dry and no wind. So, it was agreed to accept my proposal of a ride through the open fields to the relative shade of the Jura hills up to the 888m point on the infamous Barillette ascent. It wasn’t long before Peter (then Ivan Ed.) took over the lead as we headed onwards and upwards. We suffered varying degrees of pain and fatigue as the gradient increased from a modest 5% up to a more daunting 10.5%. e-Paul once again demonstrated the clear advantage of bike battery technology over raw lung and leg power as, with the mere touch of a button, he showed at least one fit-looking young interloper a clean pair of heels (or in this case, pedals).
The investment of all that time and effort on the ascent was rewarded by a swift and exhilarating descent down the sweeping bitumened bends, where Ivan demonstrated impressive slaloming technique, to Gingins and thence to Trelex and finally Prangins.
This passed not entirely without incident as, no sooner had bits started to fall off Mervyn’s bike, than Mark decided to do a mini-Nathan and part company involuntarily with his machine. Thankfully only pride suffered a minor injury this time.
A table with seven places laid out awaited our arrival at Les Abérieux restaurant down on the lakeside at Prangins.
Beers were swiftly ordered and consumed before the mystery missing diner – our BLeader, Stephen, no less – made his welcome appearance, fresh from 15 minutes “re-education” on a stationary exercise bike. Now that’s solidarity for you, in the “I share your pain” sense!
Lunch-time banter covered the usual old chestnuts plus a intriguing discussion, initiated by our resident man of letters, Paul, on what constitutes the toughest sport. Cycling uphill in the heat of the midday sun, notwithstanding, other candidates ranging from mountaineering, ultra-marathons and competitive saunas were proposed. The common denominator seemed to be utter madness.
With that we dispersed and wended our ways back to our various starting points in the Terre Sainte and beyond.
Vital statistics: 44 Km, 580m deniv. 3hr in the saddle (+2hr lunch)
Author: Mervyn Powell, faithful member of the peloton and frequent lanterne rouge.