Damian's Blog - Day 1

After a restless night, it's an early start to do final check of kit before heading off to Liverpool Street where I am meeting up with few of the gang to head off to Stansted. Throughout the train journey there is a lot of nervous chat about the week ahead and tales of friends who have taken on this challenge, and come through the other side. This continues up at the airport where we meet up with the rest of our group, and spirits are high as we board Ryan Air flight 372 to Biarritz. As the larger members of the Tour crowbar ourselves into our seats, I muse that this flight couldn't be further than the creature comforts enjoyed by Chris Hoy and his team mates on on BA to and from Beijing. Lawrence looks particularly shoe horned into his seat, how we laughed.
 
We arrive in Biarritz which is bathed in beautiful late summer sunshine. On arrival at the hotel we are reunited with our bikes, which for some of us is a very emotional moment given the relationships we have built up with them over endless hours this summer. Our tour guide, the imaginatively named French Fred, and his back up crew of Criket and Bruno give each of the bikes the once over, and all of a sudden this mad challenge becomes one step closer to reality. Crikey.
 
Having gone to our rooms to discover a hoard of goodies - not quite Ryder Cup Rolexes - but enough to trigger a frenzy of trying on all the clothes like a very excited 4 year old, I join my old Wasps team-mate and great friend Simon Hunter for a stroll to the main beach, where we do the right thing and dive into the bracing Atlantic sea for an early evening surf - absolutely fantastic.

Lawrence, Damian and Simon enjoy the Biarritz sunset
 
Our first formal social gathering is at a famous local restaurant owned by former Biarritz and French prop, Pascal Ondarts. Again, lots of prematch nerves showing as we get to meet the group and share apocryphal stories about the extent of our training. There is even a book being run on who is going to 'win' the event. As previously stated my intention is merely to finish the ride intact, it's all about completion, not competition.
 
We are joined by another former Wasps and England player, Richard Pool Jones, who lives in Biarritz and it is a good opportunity to catch up with him and wince at the sideways glances he gives us when he hears of our intrepid adventure. Rather like a plumber giving you a quote he sucks his teeth and fills us with no confidence whatsoever. As is always the case when a few Wasps get together, the wine starts to flow as do the glory day stories.. Our Tour leader and the 'brains' behind this ride is an old friend, Harvey Smythe, who is now the CEO of Gondola Group and he has done fantastic things in getting this event the ground. As with all good hosts, Harvey feels obliged to join us and le patron Pascal arrives up au terrace with another magnum of the local Grand Cru, and pulls up a chair to share his unique front row philosophise. As ever, my French becomes fairly fluent after a gallon of wine, and my Gallic shrugs and expressions could almost pass me off as a local - note to self, I must get those French lessons when I get home.

 

DAY 2

It is now 2 a.m, and it's fair to say we are a bit smashed - even Pascal has had enough - so we head off to the bar to bid our host a fond farewell. In a flash he has pulled out another magnum 'pour la rue' and, comme ils dit, when in France, rude not to really... The locals at the bar cannot believe their eyes when they see Lawrence arrive - especially when I tell them that he has, that very evening, signed a one year contract with Biarritz on a transfer exchange with Serge Betsen. Cue singing and much merriment for 'le rosbif Dallag-lio'. This is not the ideal preparation we had intended, but strength in numbers has always been my motto given my Trade Union background, so 'The Biarritz 4' head for bed amidst bonhomie, esprit de corps and horrendously wine stained mouths. Staggering up the road to bed we wonder why exactly Serge Betsen would give up the beautiful surroundings of Biarritz for the..er..more urbane and gritty scene of..er..Acton. It's a funny old game isn't it..?