Lost In FranceThis trip started in the same way that most ideas come about; lots of wishful thinking and an outside chance it might actually work…
The idea was to hire our own race circuit for the day, sounds extravagant but that way we get to play lots with minimal interference from officials telling us what we can and can’t do. If we’re having our own track day, why not combine it with a few days away? France is always good for a short break, and the weather is usually better. Language might be a problem - but they all speak English, don’t they?
Our vague plan received an unexpected boost from a group of London doctors who book a circuit in France every year and were daft enough to let us join them. This made planning very easy, just follow them over and pay our share of the circuit fees… Simples!
I don’t know how I’ve reached my mature years with such a poor grasp of the real world and so much misplaced faith in the ability of others. Fortunately, most people don’t realise how stupid I am and come along for the ride assuming that I know what I’m doing!
Everything ran pretty much to plan as we crossed on the Eurotunnel and headed south with a rough idea of where we were going. Losing half our convoy in the middle of France would usually be a cause for concern, especially on a dead straight piece of road but I figured that a refreshing beer would help the search nicely. Just as well, the missing bikes arrived at the same bar only minutes later, while I was still getting a round in.
We found the hotel without too much trouble considering the place was in the middle of nowhere, I had no map or directions and only a vague idea of its name as I’d left all the details back home. As we soon discovered, finding the place was the easy bit. My schoolboy French was tested to its limit when the large lady at the hotel reception stared blankly at our ragged group and declared “hotel complet!” She spoke no English, but stern looks and pointing fingers are a universal language – hotel’s full, find somewhere else!
Now, I admit there were some gaps in our planning, but rooms had been booked and the good doctors had assured us they had rooms to spare. Thirty minutes of pointless confusion later, we rolled out our secret weapon – Stephanie! Our one and only female in the group is also French and speaks like a native, mostly because she is French…
This didn’t help much because even in fluent French the hotel was still full, however the staff were now more willing to help and a lash up of cramming three to a room and moving some of the doctor’s kids around meant everyone had a bed for the night.
All the hotel dramas were forgotten when we reached the track next morning. It was a glorious warm, summer day but with a little overcast to take the edge off the bright sunshine – perfect! There were eleven riders in our group and we expected double that in the doctor’s group. It seems their planning was worse than ours as only five actually turned up. That meant we had a total of sixteen bikes and four cars with the place to themselves. We quickly decided to split the track time between cars and bikes, with open pit sessions so we could go out on track pretty much any time we liked. The record for most laps went to Stuart on his Ducati 1198, with about ninety wheelies along the start / finish straight. Fastest bike out there was Simon on his Honda CBR 600RR, who seemed incredibly quick, beating all the litre plus bikes. This circuit favours the smaller, lighter bikes. At least that was my excuse for being rubbish on my ’94 Fireblade.
The track itself is just under a mile long, with two long straights, two chicanes and some interestingly tight bends. It’s a great club circuit that’s deceptively fast on the back straight, we were seeing speeds of around 140mph before braking hard for the short double apex. We were a mixed ability group, with some very good riders and a couple of first timers on track. The open pit sessions are a good way of allowing riders to set their own pace. With so much track time available, slower riders could wait until the quick boys ran out of fuel and then go out for a few laps with the track to themselves. It was a very informal day, with few rules and even fewer incidents. We did have one mishap on the back straight chicane. Ben on his ZXR 400 carried a bit too much speed into the turn and went off onto the grass. He had almost brought the bike to a stop when a rabbit hole found his front tyre… It looked quite spectacular but Ben was unhurt and the bike would have been okay except for a broken gear shift.
Apart from Ben’s tumble, we all had a great day on track with everyone agreeing to do it again next year. The celebrations back at the hotel that night were memorable. And for those who could remember, we now have the new sports of electric fence dancing, cow punching and hunt the incriminating mobile phone… But that’s another story!
I want to go faster, I want to go faster..
