Most people who know me will agree this statement pretty much sums me up. I have a number of rules that I force upon myself and others around me that usually result in some level of pain and spectacular bail or two. This weekend was no different, everyone had left Luxembourg for the weekend and the three of us that remained decided that some mountain biking was in order. . .
The Saturday morning dawned and blue skies ensured it was going to be a nice September day. We rolled out of bed and stumbled across town to Hendre’s apartment where steaming hot coffees helped justify the fact we where out of bed before 10.00am on a Saturday.
Sitting around the table we pulled out the guide book which shows all the mountain biking tracks in the Ardennes region of Luxembourg. Being the gentleman I gave Nicci the final choice of routes – hard or extra hard. For some reason I thought that European standards would be easier than ours so assumed it wouldn’t be a problem to do a 27.5km forest route that was described as ‘a demanding tour, with short fast descents and long climbs, recommended only for the hardened rider’. Actually in my defence it was Nicci who chose this route!Coffees where finished and we loaded the bikes onto the back of our trusty old VW Golf, off we went. The heat was already radiating down as we left the house and for about 5 hours the thought that winter was rapidly approaching was forgotten.
We found the start of the route in a small village called Clervaux, which is on the boarder of Belgium and Luxembourg nestled deep in the Ardennes region.
The track was well maintained but a steep uphill section to begin with set the tone for the rest of the day, the topography of the ride could only be compared with the bounce of a heart beat on a monitor. Speed up hills with 160m vertical climbs ensured that everyone was soon feeling the pain. Fortunately after every uphill was a screaming downhill, which at times was so steep you felt like you where actually sliding down rather than riding it. Loose gravel ensured that if you followed too closely behind someone your shins took a real ‘hammering’ from the pebbles spat out from the bike in front. Nicci really surprised and impressed us, on the roads she put her head down and we struggled to keep up, she has serious endurance that girl.
We rode thought a number of small villages, in Hupperdange the farmers making hay watched three sweaty red faced people ride past, they shook their heads in disbelief. Then in Mauslusmuhle three blurs resembling people sped past the local cows at breakneck speeds.Mid way through one of the final stages of the track we actually stumbled across an old world war two British aircraft and the graves of those who where flying it. They where returning from a mission when they where shot down . . . this just reminded us that we where ‘playing and enjoying’ the area where some of the worst fighting of World War Two occurred, a rather sobering and humbling experience.
Incredibly we travelled 27.5km on this route, admittedly it was almost all was in the forests and the Ardennes region is not heavily populated at all however it is regarded a bit of a playground for those around it – yet today there was no sign of life. The track was well signposted but we saw no other riders and there weren’t even tracks to indicate anyone else having ridden this way for along time. At times plants encroached on the track and spider webs where a constant challenge. All in all it was exciting riding and enjoyable to be so isolated. Clervaux is a beautiful little village with a large Château overlooking the village and a large church with steeple also exerts its dominance over the skyline, the surrounding country side is full of farms, cornfields, forests and streams.
We arrived back at the car some two and a half hours later and physical exhaustion set in, we had a couple of gin tonics in the local square before heading home to a warm shower and soft couch absolutely exhausted.
. . . But wait there is more, we woke up the next day to find a repeat day so decided to take advantage, this time we met in the centre of Luxembourg City and headed for the nearby hills. That’s the beauty of Luxembourg, you never have to go far to get into the forest. We rode up a cycle path darting into the forest when we could find shoots and narrow tracks to ride. The pain from yesterday was evident, I would peddle, my legs would move but nothing would happen, I had no power left in my muscles. For the next 8-9km km we continued this way (with Nicci leading the way AGAIN) until we looked at each other and in unison said ‘its time to go’. So we turned around painfully aware we where still 9km from home. As we rode home we approached one of my favourite ‘runs’ it’s a narrow track that runs perpendicular to a steep steep slope, it’s fast and technical. I powered up and flew through the trees; the world was flying past as I accelerated, then suddenly and unexpectedly I came up to a sharp turn and totally misjudged everything. The next thing I knew I was off the track, actually not only was I off the track I was actually off the ground as I flew through the air before landing with a thump that forced the wind from my chest. Quickly I jumped up to grab my bike and act like nothing happened when Hendre came up behind me - he had seen everything and was laughing, describing how ‘I just disappeared in a cloud or dust’ coughing, I had to agree with him. Quickly remembering my motto ‘no pain no gain’, I jumped back onto my bike and while Hendre was peddling off he challenged me to ‘keep up’, we shot out onto the main path as a serious rate of knots, much to the surprise of a number of cyclists. We must have looked a real state, Hendre came out of the bush with a puff or leaves following behind him and I shot out soon after covered in dust and blood.
We limped back to the Scott bar for a few beers to celebrate a fantastic weekend, when we arrived we where again the centre of attention, everyone was nicely dressed and enjoying their Sunday afternoon. It was when I tried to wipe the dust off my face I realised we must look like a bunch of ‘bums’ sweating profusely and all covered in dirt. Luxembourgish people are infatuated with road cycling, mountain biking doesn’t exist here. They have incredible tracks and everything is well organised but nobody tends to partake in the sport. Therefore we tend to look really out of place. However the upside is we get the use of these fantastic tracks we don’t have to share with anyone. All in all it was an incredibly a successful weekend, and then on Monday I could feel the dull ache of my legs, and the sting of my cuts as they attempt to recover. While these feelings reverberate through my body I’m already on a mission find something bigger and better for next weekend after all ‘no pain no gain’.
We arrived back at the car some two and a half hours later and physical exhaustion set in, we had a couple of gin tonics in the local square before heading home to a warm shower and soft couch absolutely exhausted.
. . . But wait there is more, we woke up the next day to find a repeat day so decided to take advantage, this time we met in the centre of Luxembourg City and headed for the nearby hills. That’s the beauty of Luxembourg, you never have to go far to get into the forest. We rode up a cycle path darting into the forest when we could find shoots and narrow tracks to ride. The pain from yesterday was evident, I would peddle, my legs would move but nothing would happen, I had no power left in my muscles. For the next 8-9km km we continued this way (with Nicci leading the way AGAIN) until we looked at each other and in unison said ‘its time to go’. So we turned around painfully aware we where still 9km from home. As we rode home we approached one of my favourite ‘runs’ it’s a narrow track that runs perpendicular to a steep steep slope, it’s fast and technical. I powered up and flew through the trees; the world was flying past as I accelerated, then suddenly and unexpectedly I came up to a sharp turn and totally misjudged everything. The next thing I knew I was off the track, actually not only was I off the track I was actually off the ground as I flew through the air before landing with a thump that forced the wind from my chest. Quickly I jumped up to grab my bike and act like nothing happened when Hendre came up behind me - he had seen everything and was laughing, describing how ‘I just disappeared in a cloud or dust’ coughing, I had to agree with him. Quickly remembering my motto ‘no pain no gain’, I jumped back onto my bike and while Hendre was peddling off he challenged me to ‘keep up’, we shot out onto the main path as a serious rate of knots, much to the surprise of a number of cyclists. We must have looked a real state, Hendre came out of the bush with a puff or leaves following behind him and I shot out soon after covered in dust and blood.
We limped back to the Scott bar for a few beers to celebrate a fantastic weekend, when we arrived we where again the centre of attention, everyone was nicely dressed and enjoying their Sunday afternoon. It was when I tried to wipe the dust off my face I realised we must look like a bunch of ‘bums’ sweating profusely and all covered in dirt. Luxembourgish people are infatuated with road cycling, mountain biking doesn’t exist here. They have incredible tracks and everything is well organised but nobody tends to partake in the sport. Therefore we tend to look really out of place. However the upside is we get the use of these fantastic tracks we don’t have to share with anyone. All in all it was an incredibly a successful weekend, and then on Monday I could feel the dull ache of my legs, and the sting of my cuts as they attempt to recover. While these feelings reverberate through my body I’m already on a mission find something bigger and better for next weekend after all ‘no pain no gain’.
