RUST magazine: RUST Tref Special

unning for cover - day 2
DAY TWO
HavinG JUST SeT down a large plate of breakfast croissants, which i
almost entirely demolished, our hotelier explained that the day’s route
would take us right past his door. Jeez, i could’ve had a lie-in and
started from there!
But that would’ve meant missing out on the picturesque 40 minute
drive down the valley into Mende in blazing sunshine, not to mention
what transpired to be some of the most enjoyable riding i’ve ever
experienced...! So instead it was back to parc ferme for 08:00 to head
out with some of the event’s top riders.
Turning out of the paddock we immediately double-backed and
climbed the tarmac hairpins high into the forested hills. a wide bumpy
fire road soon narrowed into an undulating twin-track, skirting along the
tree line with the most glorious sweeping turns. Puddles sunk down into
the dirt, with bermed edges to rail around or handy crests to loft the
front-end. it was fast, flowing, and oh-so enjoyable on the 450 Yam.
a stream of tape – white this day – marked a gap into the bushes
and an end to the high-speed blast. What followed was what i can only
describe as a foot-wide goat track cut into a cliff. it wasn’t vertical –
there was just enough of an angle for trees to maintain a good grip –
but if you went over you wouldn’t stop unless you grabbed a trunk or
reached the bottom. i was glad i couldn’t see how far down that was…
i inched along, slipping the clutch whilst carefully placing the front
wheel on the muddy trail, ever mindful of catching my rucksack on a
hanging branch. a few spectators sat above, presumably waiting to help
(or video!) the unfortunate, as this was by no means high-action. They
doubtless heard my sigh of relief as the track began to widen.
Once out of the trees the course leveled out and the pace increased.
Wide trails ran between fences, walls and small plantations, which
blurred in the periphery as i wound-up the 450.
The smooth surface began to get progressively more rutted, and a
well-used green lane slowed the pace considerably. it was really the
only proper set of ruts we’d see in 600km, and with a choice of eight
regularly converging lines there was plenty of opportunity to avoid the
deep puddles and stodgy holes which punctuated the track. Yet, cruelly,
every single rut eventually culminated in a track-wide muddy waterhole
that was all but unavoidable. Cling to the slippery trailside and you’d be
fine. any other line provided me with a real photo opportunity...