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Ripzalot and I managed to miss each other again this weekend. This is not altogether surprising though, when Ripzalot's plans involve mud, blood and endos whilst Mrs SwissBuster and I had planned on a quiet weekend of biking in Champery at my folks place. After a late night at the Dido concert on Friday night (part of the Montreux Jazz Festival), we had planned a lazy Saturday, but a web-browse revealed that the Swiss MTB championship were being held all weekend, with the downhill, XCross and trials on Saturday.
A quick change into bike gear and a ride on the Planachaux gondola later, we arrived at the mid-way point in the downhill run to watch the last few riders trying to kill themselves. None succeeded, and when the waiting ambulance drove off, we surmised that the fun was over. I didn't even get a chance to get the camera out. We cruised into Crosets where the MTB festival was based, hoping to see the XCross. Due to afternoon thunderstorms, they had advanced the program which meant all we saw were the trials riders. After cruising all the gear stands, we rode back home to the sounds of the Swiss National Anthem playing during the prize giving. As lazy days go this was pretty uneventful, but not entirely without purpose: Petra washed out on about the first corner, drawing blood on an elbow and knee and so she can claim to have properly baptised her new full suspension ride.
After home cooking on Saturday night, my folks dragged us out to watch a free concert by a 250-piece band of US high-school kids. On the way back, my old man 'inadvertently' mentioned that one of the restaurants in town has a collection of 150 single malts, so we felt obliged to drop in to show our support for such a fine business model. The net result of this was that we got up far later than planned on Sunday which, with thunderstorm predicted for the afternoon, meant that our original goal of climbing to the Col du Cou would be a stretch. We set off after a light lunch in the direction of Barme, the mid-way point to the Col.
A quick change into bike gear and a ride on the Planachaux gondola later, we arrived at the mid-way point in the downhill run to watch the last few riders trying to kill themselves. None succeeded, and when the waiting ambulance drove off, we surmised that the fun was over. I didn't even get a chance to get the camera out. We cruised into Crosets where the MTB festival was based, hoping to see the XCross. Due to afternoon thunderstorms, they had advanced the program which meant all we saw were the trials riders. After cruising all the gear stands, we rode back home to the sounds of the Swiss National Anthem playing during the prize giving. As lazy days go this was pretty uneventful, but not entirely without purpose: Petra washed out on about the first corner, drawing blood on an elbow and knee and so she can claim to have properly baptised her new full suspension ride.
After home cooking on Saturday night, my folks dragged us out to watch a free concert by a 250-piece band of US high-school kids. On the way back, my old man 'inadvertently' mentioned that one of the restaurants in town has a collection of 150 single malts, so we felt obliged to drop in to show our support for such a fine business model. The net result of this was that we got up far later than planned on Sunday which, with thunderstorm predicted for the afternoon, meant that our original goal of climbing to the Col du Cou would be a stretch. We set off after a light lunch in the direction of Barme, the mid-way point to the Col.
