Having spent the weekend in Stratford upon Avon, this Shakespearian
title seemed appropriate for the Old Portlians storming of the Duo Normand a
week ago. That six OPCC teams completed the race, objectives were met and a
good time was had by all is something of a miracle given so of what happened on
route.
In the dark of a Friday morning we set off in convoy that looked
somewhere between a pro cycling team and Mad Max. Six teams and two Directors
Sportif. Never had so much OPCC grunt been assembled in one place. Maybe.
The tight timings for getting to Portsmouth quickly began to
drift. Running late Iain was thrashing
his Land Rover to maintain the speed limit for us to a have any chance of
making the ferry. The man on the dockside suggested we slowed down and the ferry
would not leave without us. There was all round relief when the four vehicles
we on board and the ferry door began to close.
To ride the Duo Normand you need six things. Two riders, two
bicycles and two racing licences (ideally belonging to the two riders).
Our relief was short lived. When Kev told us ‘Gary lost his
passport, he had to get off’ we had a few seconds of denial. He is having a
laugh. But no, Gary was definitely not there. Opening up for Paul C, Gary’s
team mate was the chasm that no Gary meant no race.
Now while it is unlucky to lose a passport, it is then very
lucky when your daughter finds it in the gutter where you dropped it. So was
Gary’s good fortune. All he had to do was get back the West Wickham, and find
some way of getting to France. Easy.
Once in France the main group after some faffing found the farmhouse
we were due to stay in, and a fine place it was. As we headed into San Lo for
dinner, we knew that Gary was getting the overnight ferry so all was well. It
was only on returning that Paul C began asking. ‘Has anyone seen my wallet?’
Now credit cards can be replaced, and money is money. But a racing licence lost
in France the day before sign on is more of a problem. Paul was faced with the
prospect of greeting Gary with the news that they would erm well hmmm, not be
able to race after all. We thought, maybe we could print off his British
cycling membership page from the website; find somebody at British cycling on a
Saturday to vouch for Paul. Given that our French language skills amounted to
saying ‘pain au raisin’ and looking hopeful, things were looking grim.
We set off to reconnoitre the circuit. The 54km route around
Marigny has something for everyone, a fast downhill bias at the start, a flat
section over the levels, followed by draggy climbs. As we queued for the toilet
a woman emerged from the town hall. ‘Are any of you Paul C…..’? By some miracle
Paul’s wallet had been found by the waiter in a bar, the bar owner had
sufficient savvy to check, and when he found the racing licence he presumed the
owner much be there for the Duo. I then took the trouble to call the organisers
who took the trouble to reunite Paul and his licence and once again the show
was on the road.
When I did this event 2 years ago it pissed down. Halfway through
this warm up lap the heavens opened and grim memories started flooding back.
Not so much of the ride, the hours spent trying to keep warm in the van beforehand.
We dried off as best we could then set about one of the little treats the Duo
offers. They lay on a fantastic lunch for entrants in the town all. Starters of
cold meats fish and salad, followed by sausage, pork with chips and pasta,
finished off with lovely cakes. Suitably fuelled we headed back to base.
To be continued......
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