Oct 1, Route S2

The Houilles club has a carte de routes they put out each year with a detailed guide to many, many routes they do each season, along with a schedule of rides. Today, they're riding right past ma belle soeur's house in L'Etang la Ville and heading on a 95k jaunt west of Paris to Thoiry and Moule, a route I rode last year by myself with the help of Jean Manuel's carte. This time we have 7 club members; the others are still recovering from yesterday's effort. I head down Route de St Germain to the rondpoint we've set as our meeting point. The sun is just coming up and the sky appears to be cloudless, a surprise since, once again, Meteo.fr has forcast crappy weather. My cell phone rings and Jean Manuel tells me they're running late and will be about 20 minutes. Two minutes later the group comes cruising through; turns out he confused the rondpoint in St Germain with the one in St Nom. Like I said, I have a feeling that the French are perpetually in a semi-lost state.

I'm informed that we'll just be spinning on today's ride as we have all several levels of ability represented in the small group, which is perfectly fine with me as I can feel my quads a bit more than usual this morning. That idea is quickly put to rest as we climb into the forest. Jackie, the tiny climber in our group spins away, Jean Manuel catches him and I keep my eyes open and stay in teh middle; are we really going to leave the others behind? Near the top, Jackie and Jean Manuel turn around and come back.

We pass by my regular landmarks, Rennemoulin, Villepreux and Chavenay, and then head further west towards Thoiry and Beule. As we approach and leave each ville on tiny, local roads, a pattern emerges: descent into town, rumble strips of pave, blind alleys merging with our route and a steep climb out of town. In Jumeauville, the other 100 kilo rider in the group, snaps his chain on the climb. The group pulls to the side and lean their bikes against a stone wall. I pick up the chain laying on the cobbles as Jean Pierre vents a bit. It has a twisted link, probably a link not properly connected.

Jean Pierre begins futzing with his tool kit and pulls out a chain tool and attempts to reconnect the chain with the twisted link in place. Jackie, meanwhile as offered a Wipperman Connex link to JP, but is being ignored. I offer to help, and am ignored. The others pull out some energy bars and settle in. Jean Manuel rolls his eyes and says in English, "This happens all the time and he wants to do it himself in his own way." Eventually we get going again and I make a point not to ride behind Jean Pierre when we're climbing.

The weather is beautiful now and the French countryside slides by on a quiet Sunday morning. From last year's ride, I know there's a climb coming from Maule to Les Allouettes, about 5k at 7 to 8 percent. I take turns at the front and occasionally the other riders let me. Most of the time, they accelerate to get in front of me immediately. Maybe they're not comfortable having the guy in the Freeflight outfit leading their ride? I'm ok with that, and take the time to snap pictures and follow wheels.

We take a lovely 6 foot wide stip of asphalt into Maule. This is a road with an occasional car, but there is no way anything larger than a Clio would fit on it. Just past the downtown, the road begins to climb and our group is overtaken by a team of espoirs with a coach yelling at them every few seconds, "Vite, vite. Allez, allez". A couple of them are rolling their heads a bit and I decide to latch onto the back of their white and green train. There are a few comments, some not nice, as the old man with the obviously American outift pulls through, so I lift the pace to about 16. I'm rested and look over and smile at the lead rider. He groans and falls back. I hear a lot more yelling from the coach as Jackie and Jean Manuel come up from behind.

We crest the hill and receive a beautiful view of Valley below. My legs ache a bit, but spinning in the group as left me fresh and I feel great. The group lets me take pulls now on the flat roads heading into the wind and into Paris.