La Lindarets bites back.

A nasty fall on the hill for Andy today as he launched himself of his bike at speed, coming down the Mosette-La Lindarets fire road.

The trails had dried out nicely after yesterdays torrential thunderstorms (again). So the team set out for a pleasant little spin over to Switzerland. The weather was fantastic and the trails were grippy. A couple of steady runs down from Avoriaz and we headed across to the Mosette lift to take us over the top and into the land of chocolate and cuckoo clocks. Disappointingly the massive Mosette lift had been struck by lightening the previous day and wouldn’t be open for a couple of hours, so we decided to take the alternative route from a mile or so down the hill in La Lindarets.

Off we set and with Andy and myself at the front. The fire trail is a really quick and straightforward hack down the hill. However, to spice things up most mountain roads of this type have drainage ditches running across them at an oblique angle. Usually these pose no problem, particularly if you see them and are ready for their arrival. You can guess the rest. I slowed significantly for the last one before we dropped into La Lindarets, however I could hear Andy approaching behind. The crunch of gravel suddenly turned into the crash of metal and rock. Immediately everyone rushed to get to him lying in the middle of the road. I’d turned to ride back up the hill and as I did I saw Dave walk to him and without stopping start running to the phone which luckily was only a couple of hundred meters away at the nearest lift.

Most of the damage was clearly apparent, a huge gash above one knee and bad cuts on the other, this despite a fair amount of body armour. Cuts to the face and some problems with both hands all added up to a pretty nasty situation. It was with some relief that he appeared coherent and despite his injuries was not in a great deal of pain. Nonetheless we wanted to get him off the hill as soon as possible.
A couple of minutes in and Andy appeared to be calm and the situation had moved from dangerous to just nasty. The bleeding wasn’t too heavy and he just seemed to have suffered his major injuries on the extremities, so after taking some photos for posterity, we started thinking about what to do next.

We were a good six miles from home and we now had to think about getting Andy’s bike and gear off the hill, so I set off on my own to go and get the car. Cycling down a road that drops a good eight hundred meters in six miles meant it didn’t take me long for me to get back and I arrived up the hill in the car shortly after the ambulance had picked him up.

The ambulance had taken him (and Russ for company) to the nearest accident and emergency hospital in Thonon on Lake Geneva, about thirty miles away. Luckily I knew exactly where this was from previous visits to the alps with similarly unfortunate mates. Popping back to the chalet to drop the gear off, we collected some essentials, (clothes, books phones etc) and headed off to Thonon. Sure enough he was at the Georges Pianta hospital and we found him and Russ easily enough in the A&E department.

One thing I did find strange was, in the waiting room of the A&E they had a TV set to amuse the worried friends and family of accident victims. Rather distastefully it appeared to be showing wall to wall hospital dramas of a sub-Casualty genre. Inappropriate I think.

Anyway, after a bit of waiting around (three to four hours) we were delighted to discover that Andy was patched up sufficiently that we could bring him back to the chalet. So, after a bit of a faff whilst we clothed him we went to leave. Somehow we also picked up a random Dutchman who had also pulled a fetlock on the hill and was in urgent need of a lift back to Morzine. A quick stop at the pharmacie to empty them of prescription drugs and we were off.

All in all an unusual day. Still we managed to top it off with a Tartiflette and some beers at the Cavern and Buddha bars.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tartiflette

http://www.morzineseason.com/bars.html

Wet, Wet, Wet.

Three days in and things are going much as expected. My bike has been in the shop twice, both times for brake related maintenance. Hmmm. Having initially thought I could get away with a new cable I soon realised that my manly frame required something more substantial up front as a means of slowing me down. So, credit card at the ready I invested in a brand spanking new Hope Mono M4 with floating disc and braided cables up front. (Those in the know will now suck their teeth appreciatively. While those who aren’t won’t give a monkeys)

Anyhoo, having finally found something capable of arresting forward progress whenever I need it, I set off up the hill today with renewed vigour.

Straight aout of the box things were going well. So delighted was I that I promptly launched myself off the front of the handlebars and down a little ditch. The usual excuses didn’t apply as on this occasion I hit a the corner of a house which (I swear) seemed to leap out at me as I was taking the little bend. No permanent damage, since nobody witnessed the incident and my backside, ribs and shoulder broke my fall. Some nice bruises and a couple of sexy scrams to show for my efforts. All this was spookily reminiscent of my little tumble in Utah a few months ago, other than I was on a bike and it wasn’t snowing.

The afternoon was good lots of good riding until the clouds opened and dumped half the Atlantic on us. The lightening started to worry us and we dicedid a ski lift wasn't the best means of transport home. Not to worry though as the local mountain restaurants cater very well for weary, wet thirsty riders. A long spin back to the chalet through La Lindaret (Goat Village) as we circumnavigated the lift system which finally found us back in Morzine in time for a spot of wine and tea and a chance to pop some new brake pads in.

Pictures may well start appearing so as long as the French find a translation for Broadband. If you can see a picture of Alex prior to his crash then I guess they've worked it out.