Couvaloup and Forest Excursion

A propos de notre parcours nocturne, il est à relever que 3 bikers avec un goût prononcé pour les raids hors du commun ont presque terminé leur itinéraire prévu et ceci

pour le pire comme le meilleur. L'originalité de l'équipe se distingue en premier par celui qui devait ouvrir le parcours et s'est retrouvé sans lumière après la première

descente. A la bougie par la bise environnante, ça aurait été pire qu'un gâteau d'anniversaire. Le deuxième, sans torche au départ mais un peu fellé se retrouve avec une

seule et unique garantie, le puissant phare du troisième gaillard rôdé à toutes épreuves et que l'on bénit au passage, sans quoi l'astre de nuit à la forme croissante aurait

été notre dernière planche de salut pour rejoindre nos pénates avant le lever du jour. L'épisode à travers les bois entre Guinfard et le chemin du creux de la Griffe n'a pas été spécialement adapté vu l'horaire un peu tardif des aventuriers. La faune locale a bien du se marrer; nous aussi mais jaune. Alors à tous ceux qui n'ont pas pu venir, vous avez loupé un magnifique crépuscule au resto Couvaloup de Crans où les crôutes au fromage en aurait fait baver plus d'un. Notre tour s'achève par la route à la Saint-Bernard et comme prévu les pieds sur le guidon. La nuit aura été courte pour le team mais avec le projet du prochain tour cette foi de jour.

Merci à vous mes potes Mike et Simon pour votre participation.

Pierre alias Pony-Expres

There and back again or To see that its quite far indeed !!

We started that day on the road out from Gantners.
We started out well we were going much faster,
than normally we go down the path through the trees,
over rocks, over roots, through tight places. Yes please.
Until we meet places in the path that were tricky,
and head over heels fell the Gantner. Quite silly.
He failed to notice from going so fast,
if you place your hand wrong, then you fall with a "Blast"

"How can I fall now with the missile a coming?
I'd better get up or the guy will be grinning
and saying with a smile, "Did you fall ? Did you crash ?
Did you hurt your poor self as you fell on your ass?"

Well by now wheels are humming.
Brakes are braking, pedals running,
around and around and around a bit more.
We are grinning like fools. You know the score.

So we get to the parking and lo and behold.
The ones that are biking are ones that are old.
No newbies. No city bikes, no bald tires or worse.
There are no new new "new ones". There's no one to nurse.
Just the crew from the old days.
Just the crew that did start it.
The bike, papy, gantner, just missing..... who was it ?

Ah yes I remember, Trois Decis was missing.
I wonder just who he is with and is kissing....
the group he does see on a thursday I think.
I can imagine they are creating quite a big stink
as they talk and they drink and they drink and they talk.
And sometimes, just maybe, a good little joke.

Anyway, where was I, oh yes at the parking.
We are off, lets go riding. There's no time for talking.
Well we get nowhere fast, we are just round the corner,
when papys bike starts to complain at its owner.
That papy was fuming, but managed to hide it.
At hors piste they'd better be closed or out riding
cos that small little screw that was supposed to be loc-tited,
apparently wasn't, and was in there with out it!

So papy brings out his small tool. No not THAT one.
Which one. The ikea one. Who else has one? Noone!
You see its a tool that is sort of a shite one.
I think that we maybe will get him to buy one
that works, doesnt bend, doesnt ruin the bolt,
that hes trying to tighten, but fails. Just dont.

So we're off, for some more short bursts of some riding,
but we stop and we stop for our bikes they are whining.
Cos the missiles is wrong, doesnt work without clicking.
His bike it did almost get quite a good kicking.
Cos the cranks were not tight, they were slipping and loose.
Damn that bike, damn the thing, hang it from a high noose.

Not to mention the fact that his legs were like jelly.
They were weak. They were puny. No excuses. Just jelly.
You see he had trouble to keep up to his mates,
up in front they were keeping up quite a good pace.

Through the barnyards and mansions and fields of Geneva,
it was just so beautiful, the result of a fever ?
Just fabulous countryside out there for all.
I wonder just what it would look like in fall !

There we are, we have fixed it, that papys dilemma.
We could have been fixing his damned bike for ever.
But for Claude, jo bricole, he did sweat and get oil,
all over his hands, from papys bike, as he toiled
because papy, dear papy, he watched and he told,
that gantner to work on his bike.
He did hold on to his poor bike as the poor gantner sweated
and fixed his bike up. But he didnt regret it.
'Cos that bike held its self and its parts all together,
we could have just maybe, ridden onwards for ever.

Well, maybe on Tuesday last month or last week,
but not this one right here cos someone's too weak,
to ride with a smile, without puffing or grunting.
I tell you last night I was getting disgruntled.

So we come to A Pussy or something like that,
ah no I remember Avussy. Avussy, yes thats it.
"In the trees, to the bois" said the gantner and papy.
They seemed to remember times past and were happy
to show a new friend the woods of their past,
well I say they were fun we had quite a blast.
Reminiscing about days of yore and past glory,
they told and related quite many a story
of times they had raced in and out of the trees,
with old bikes, no suspension, not to mention with glee.
Of the times in the nettles, crashing and laughing.
To the stream they did fall, with many a splashing.

So now heres the new one who enters the wood.
Good grief, oh good god, I'm not feeling so good.
The wheels of that bike, did not turn as the should.
It felt like my head it was made of some wood.
The braking was wrong, the turning was late.
The gearing was wrong. I was beginning to hate.
Then the sounds started coming. Little oofs, then an eef.
You would think he was tired. I would have to agree.

Oof over rocks, eep around trees.
Ngh under branches. Aagh from bashed knees.
Gaah from the trunk that was laying in front.
Guh for the one. That one wasnt a grunt.
Spuh from the poke in the arm that he got.
From the noise he was making you would think hed been shot.

On it went, out they came, curses spilling in dozens.
My god, wont this end, I'm thinking, it doesnt.

Then the tree that was broken and lying quite low.
Theres a bridge, well sort of, but it looks kind of low.
Well the papy and gantner get on it and cross it.
But the Missile is taller and almost he lost it.
He managed to avoid getting wet on his feet,
but his bike did drag its round ass in the creek
With laughs and with jests and with "missile you oughta,
not be so big, you coulda been shorta."
Now where would I be with short ass and short legs.
Its great to be tall, but sometimes with less
Would be quite convenient, would be sort of fun,
to have legs that are short and not ones that are long.

Well we battled our way over fields and up hills.
You would think that each one of us had taken a pill
as we climbed up that hill where we sort of were lost,
where that lady shouted out "go to hell, go get lost"
Well papy and gantner had seen a huge bowl,
of some sort of a monsterous dog, I am told
and were rushing up hill to get far from that dog,
but the missile saw nothing. His head was in fog.
Put he pedalled and pedalled up the straight hill,
and over the top to the crest and stopped still
for a breather, a breath, a gasp of fresh air.
He really was starting to pull out his hair
cos he's tired so tired, his legs are in mush.
Can somebody please give my body a push ??

Well on to the saleve, cant find the right gear.
All I can think of is having a beer.
And mike is beside me, he's puffing along.
We both are together, we're not feeling strong.

To cut a long story thats long to be short,
I scurried along not enjoying our sport
that we do every tuesday for as long as rememberd.
What a pain to have pain in each of my members.
But I'm part of a club, now I start to remember.
Its still great to be a tuesday club member.

The missile wimps out of the hill at the end.
He just can barely make it around the next bend.
To veyrier onwards we turn at the border.
Missiles wears a sign that says "Legs out of order"
To veyrier, to the parking, to get a swift lift.
I'm buggered ! I'm knackered! I'm shagged, get the drift ?

So the first thing that happens when I get there, the first ,
is something that quenches my very deep thirst
A beer. Yes a beer. A cold one at that.
To you my friend gantner I take off my hat.
A beer. Cold beer. I have been waiting for ever.
I was beginning to think that this time would come never.
A seat and a beer and some wine and great food.
Well, that did great things to improve on my mood.
And with that I say now, that the tuesdays are great.
That tuesdays are wonderful and well worth the wait !

Newbies

Newbies....

Newbies are fun, newbies are great,
but if they're no good, then they're someone we hate.
What does he mean, why does he say it ?
Well listen up folks I'm going to play it.

Some of us travel for miles at a time,
to get there and ride for mile after mile.
We leave work, some early, we leave work, some late,
but the main thing we want is to ride something great.

So if we get newbies, that stink up the place,
we hates them! we hates them! they get in our face.
They arrive with their bikes, city ones, a hardtail.
We know they'll have trouble, we know that they'll fail.
Here they come now, in T Shirts and sneakers,
no clip-ins nor camel backs, oh jeepers, oh creepers.
They'll huff and they'll puff, up the hills.
They are trying, but we could already be going down flying.
We wait and we wait and sometimes we cry,
and curse them with stones. At the air we let fly.
And then when they get to the very tip top,
they want to pull over!! they want to just stop!!
For a breather! How dare they! We want to get on.
Come on you damn newbie, come on now my son.

Now the worst kind of newbies are ones that don't suck:
They happen upon us, just trust our dumb luck.
They get out their bikes that are rusted and worn,
they pull on their shorts, never lycra they've worn
they get on their bikes and they start off to pedal,
and leave us behind on our bikes of light metal.
We struggle there cursing and wheezing and trying,
to catch up to that newbie with legs made of iron.

Now there's newbies and newbies. Now where would we be,
if we didn't know hoekstra or dopey, we say.
Or zulu or goat or jo shaddock or 'zette,
if we didnt know them, well it would not be great.
We love them, we welcome them, with open arms.
We likes them you see, to them we have warmed.

Now newbies are welcome, we like them you see.
Its not that we hate them, though newbies they be.
Our anger and scorn, and our cursing out loud,
should be aimed at the ones who are part of OUR crowd.
You see, these "new" newbies that come for a ride,
have been brought along by the ones that can ride.
The ones that we love and the ones that we know,
have brought them along for a ride to them show.
They bring them along and they force us to note,
that some of them ride, and that some of the don't.

Now by all means we welcome new blood to our team,
but please do make sure that no oldies can scream
"take that newbie, take him back, take him back to his home,
and leave us in peace on our bikes here to roam"
And if you do happen to bring one along ,
who knows how to bike, well that wouldn’t be wrong,
but if you bring one that is more like lead weight,
be sure that you are the one who is going to wait
and ensure that the newbie, whose skills are quite poor,
gets home safe and sound and behind their closed door.
Lock them up quick, do it now, don’t be too kind.
Get irate, keep that newbie away and inside.
Put them in, throw the key, don't bring them to ride.
Bring them no more, to the places we ride.

But if you insist to be bring newbies that can't,
don’t be surprised if we shout, if we rave and we rant.
Dont be sad, dont you cry, you just sit there, don't sigh ,
cos its your fault, you brought him, you wait, whilst we fly.
You brung them. You invited. You asked and they came.
Well you can take care of them, we're not to blame.
We will go riding and leave you behind.
Because we came to ride, not to wait, you will find.

So now that I've ranted and raved and am done,
I feel that maybe you think I'm not fun.
That I don't welcome newbies, that I hates them, their kind.
That they stink, are unfit, and are not humankind.
Well you're wrong. I like newbies. I welcome their race.
But would you ask Schumi to slow down his race ?
Would you ask him to dither and wait and not go,
just because that new newbie was going so slow ?
Now I know we're not racing, but hey, wheres the fun,
on changing our plans because of just one
who doesn't know what he has let himself into,
who thinks that maybe he's got what it takes to.

So summing up now, (this is getting quite long),
dont take this too literally don't think I am wrong.
I am all for those newbies, to come and have fun,
just make sure if you bring them, that they can have some fun.
Ensure that their bikes come with two wheels apiece,
with some rubber still on them and their chains with some grease.
A helmet to cover their poor little heads,
for when they have troubles and go foot over head
by trying to follow the ones that know how,
to go down the hill very fast and not slow.

So bring those newbies along. Bring as many as you like.
But be sure that you look after them well on their bike.