Ardéchoise Cyclosportif

The Ardéchoise is France's biggest cyclosportif with over 13,000 riders taking part, writes James Beaumont. Held around the semi-mountainous Ardéche region, you choose the route you take on the day, with six circuits from 66km to 268km.

The longest route is known as the Ardechoise Vélo Marathon and with more vertical metres of climbing than the Marmotte and a longer distance than the Ötztaler Radmarathon, it's arguably the toughest cyclosportive around.

For 2008, riding were Glenn Chamberlin and myself from the club, plus ex-Wheeler Ben Cousins, now with Stockholm's CK Valhall and wheelbuilding expert Rob Pennell, we'd all had spent the previous week riding together in the Alps before making the trip down to the Ardeche region.

In addition, Geneva-based Ian Collins and Parisian Yves Millière were there. Sadly two club members were absent, Tony Lane and Gerry Rosen. Gerry was due to share a lift with Tony but Tony was struck down by a bug just before the ride.

Glenn opted for the 216km route, as did Ben but problems with a front wheel forced Ben to stop twice for mechanical help and he was frustratingly forced to switch to the 171km route. Glenn just missed out on his goal of a top-100 place.

Meanwhile I went for the 268km Ardéchoise Vélo Marathon, complete with 16 cols and over 5000m of vertical climbing. Regardless of the route you do, everyone starts togther, all 13,000 riders are lined up in the streets of the start town. Thanks to decent performances in recent years, Ben and I had a priority start in the first 300 riders. So we crossed the start line within seconds of the starting gun.

The start rolls down a short hill then you have a 12km climb to tackle sans warm up. It's always a fast start, like a mountain bike race but it was even more demented thanks to the presence of two Française des Jeux pros and another from the Caisse d’Epargne squad. I rode with the 20 strong lead group for an hour until it split in half. The pace was insane, far too high, with many in the group aiming to do a shorter route and others wanting to show off to the pros. I had no choice but to hang on since I was chasing a decent position: abandon ground in the first hour and you'll never make it up. So the longest ride of the year starts with the intensity far above a 10 mile TT.

Still, it was sort of enjoyable. I wasn't working much in the group, concious that I'd have plenty of time to suffer later. The group was motoring and at times during the early climbs you could look down the hillside to the point where we were 10 minutes ago and see groups far behind already, we were pulling out a decent lead early on.

We started at 7.00 am but the sun was hot early on and after two hours I stopped at the first ravitaillement at the top of the Col de Mézeilhac to fill my – by now – empty water bottles only to see the rest of my group ride on, I'd hoped a few would stop too but none did. I needed the water so had to stop but lost around 40 seconds and only took back around 20 seconds during a brilliant 15km descent that followed. The road twists and turns down a stunning valley, hugging cliffs and snaking round sharp bends. I was trying hard but not making up much ground, solo it was hard to pull back a group. So I started the next climb in sight of them and tried to chase the group ahead. Riding at close to my maximum, I got to within ten seconds of them at the top of the climb but couldn't close the gap and they began to pull away on the next descent, their through-and-off leaving me floundering. Physical and mental agony, I really was so close and had pushed myself deep into the red for nothing, a failed gamble. I'd let excitement get the better of me and had put myself deep into the red for nothing.

I resigned myself to riding at a decent tempo and soon caught a couple of riders and then we were joined by five others and I rode with them for an hour. By now I'd been riding for four hours in all when came the point at the Gerbier de Jonc, the extinct volcano cone that is the source of the river Loire where you turn left for the Marathon 268km route or turn right for the 216km route. I headed left and the others went right, leaving me to ride alone. The others shouted "courage" as they peeled off. I didn't know it at the time but it meant I was to ride the next 140km alone.

Enjoying the scenery, I rode on as it was getting hotter and hotter. The tar was melting, sounding like a bowl of rice crispies as you rode the bubbles blistering in the heat. The views of the ancient volcanoes were stunning but didn't matter, it was just a question of riding hard and eating and drinking a lot. I'd started the ride with my jersey sagging with 10 Powerbars and six gels and was working my way through these culinary delights. The climbs and descents came and went, I just kept tempo to hold off any riders behind. I didn't know where I was in relation to the others. You'd pass through villages and hamlets to the cheers of locals, happy to see something, anything happening in their sleepy, remote places.

It was tiring but you could just ride steady, taking on board food and water often. On a couple of climbs I began to suffer, the marker posts every kilometre telling you how far the summit was seemed to pass by so slowly. Gradually I got closer to the finish line but slowly a lack of food and water was making the going hard, my supplies had run out.

Into the last 30km, I was slowing up a bit. Soon I had two competitors pass me. I knew they were doing the Marathon because they weren't just two riders but two scooters too: each rider had a following moped, for the Marathon you get dispensation to have support. The scooters were supplying them with cool drinks, food and a large dose of moral support. I was literally riding solo. The two who passed each had the time to say hello and ask if I’d seen others up ahead, one came through five minutes ahead of the other. They referred to the other riders by their surnames, these guys weren’t just asking if somebody was up the road but they clearly knew who their rivals were.

On the way to the finish, you join others who have done shorter routes, as the shorter routes congregate onto a final shared route back into the start town. In past years I'd motored past the others on this last section, this time I was passing the others slowly. But the top of the last climb came and it was back down the 12km climb that had been the start of the route and I flow into the finish, feeling strong and that had the finish line been another 30km away, I could have gone on. But sure enough the finish line came and I felt a lot of satisfaction in finishing, taking fifth place overall and getting on the podium for my age group, 30-39. Last year, I'd been up on to the podium to act as translater for Andy Bye, this time I was up there in my own right.

But chatting to the others on the podium, it seems that without knowing it, I was closing in quickly on those ahead of me during the last hour and missed out third place by just four minutes. Had I known, I would have ridden harder to catch and pass them. Thanks to bad weather and work in May and June, I'd been really short of training so I'll be back with the aim of winning this sometime.

The event is highly recommended, great routes, well organised and there's a special atmosphere on the day from the thousands of locals. Think about it for 2009...