The last ride #10
Imagine for a moment that there was only one more. A single day, a final chapter, a last ride. Of all the miles covered and all the roads ridden, which would draw you back to experience them one more time.
Simon Taulelle // Artistic Director, Motion Designer & Gravel Grinder // @sims_teuteul
A last ride must be festive but above all well organized to make the most of it! So I have some requirements on this subject:
1. It will take place from dawn to dusk, bien sûr.
2. It will be done not alone, but with friends.
3. It will be ridden on gravel roads.
4. There will be no lack of fun, but a schedule will be needed to maximise said fun.
THE SCHEDULE
08h00 : Wake-up with a beautiful landscape view after an improvised bivouac the day before.
08h10 : Coffee with said view.
08h30 : Folding the camp (even for a last ride you should not be in a hurry…). It’s part of the process.
10h30 : First pedal strokes on a small mountain road.
11h00 : Bakery and second coffee stop in the first village you cross because... why not!
11h30 : First-class gravel track.
12h15 : Perfect single track to a small village.
13h00 : Plug-in the hundreds of devices that need charging. It’s part of the process.
13h05 : Food orgy.
14h00 : Digesting lunch whilst climbing a small mountain pass.
15h30 : Follow a gravel track along the ridge, then ride along the shore of a lake.
16h30 : Swim in the lake.
17h40 : Capture the moment with pictures. It’s part of the process.
17h45 : Go full NASA mode on the downhill.
18h00 : Ride the last 15km on the road flat out like a TT team and find a bar.
19h00 : Find a restaurant.
19h10 : Food orgy number two.
21h00 : Find another bar.
22h10 : Pitch the tents.
22h30 : Share stories about this day around the campfire.
23h59 : Recovery position.
With experience I imagine that probably nothing that is written above will go as planned but as I used to say: 'the important thing is the essence'
AU BORD DE MER
Matthieu Lifschitz // Illustrator, Graphic Designer & Randonneur Extraordinaire // @manivelle.cc
I ride day and night, summer and winter, alone and in a group. Sometimes I ‘race’ (whatever the definition of that word is these days) but most of the time I don’t. I go far, cross borders, take photos, and have fun. I’m a randonneur. So yes, if there is only one randonnée left? The ultimate one. I think of the night….
The temptation is strong to choose a ride up Col de la Bonette or Mont Ventoux at night and experience again with friends the feeling of climbing these mountains as discreetly as a wolf and be rewarded with seeing the day rise before our eyes. But that would lack a particular feeling - or flavour - other things that speak to me when you tell me it will be my last.
So tonight I take to the road alone, from my home in Marseille. It's 7pm, it's the beginning of summer and the sun is shining. I still have a few hours left before the twilight and I leave the city via the Col de la Gineste towards Cassis and the coast road that leads me east to Nice, 250km further on.
The light quickly falls, the landmarks stretch out, the curves become distorted and the elevation changes seem blurry. The usually overcrowded coastal roads become fluid and, in many places, deserted.
The sparkling cities are checkpoints with their share of folklore. Some shine with artificial colours, others display their own particular customs. The night has its rituals and its entertainment, sometimes drunk.
Crossing urban areas in and out of industrial zones and secondary roads is like meeting another population. I like to observe how, at night, we become a different people.
Laughing on fairground dodgems; a furtive and stunned look of a passer-by in pyjamas walking his dog; the proud and macho posture of a group of males on a café terrace; an approving nod of an urban cyclist. It is a cold and suspicious ride at 3 a.m. Passing through the night with lights and reflective equipment turns you into a kind of passing curiosity. Seen and gone in an instant. Incongruous.
The day is coming up on the gold coast road that skirts the Esterel National Park. Nature continues its performance as the sunrise wakes the Riviera up. Nice unveils itself, the world’s decorations are back in place and the light makes me invisible again as I blend in with the normality of the day.
It's 8am. One more coffee, please.
