FURTHER’S TDF ROOTS Camille McMillan explains how the biggest race in the world inspired the Further concept. Henri Desgrange still has his initials on the yellow jersey, but I'm not sure he would like the current race all that much. I feel he would be more interested in the The Barkley Marathons or the Transcontinental bike race. Desgrange’s dream was autonomous racing. He wanted self-sufficient riders. Riders who would find their limits as a rider and also their human limits. For him, the perfect race would have one finisher, the race would be won as a heroic solo effort. The racers however, had other plans. The battle between racers and Desgrange was legendary. The racers wanted to bunch up, work together, create teams and make deals. Codes of conduct between the racers evolved, lead outs and echelons took shape. Modern racing evolved and was born. Desgrange tried to steer, bend the race to his vision, but the power of money and ‘Professionalism’ won out. If only he had had satellites and spot trackers. Don’t get me wrong, I loved what road racing evolved into. I loved the story and rituals of the golden age of bicycle racing. The brilliant tacticians, the giants of cycling who were majestic athletes and masters of chess. I have seen the racing world shift from wool shorts to lycra, watched as the grand tours shifted from “Stars and Watercarriers”, ( Jørgen Leth ) to celebrity all stars. The age of big data, race radio and DNA. Grand tours shifted from Chess to Checkers… or did it ? Tour de France 2019, Stage 15, Limoux > Foix Prat d’Albis. I had not really looked at the Tour route. I knew it was coming to the Ariège, and a stage finish was happening close to where I live, on the Prat d’Albis but thought not much more about it. The TdF always comes to the Ariège. In fact, the reason I had moved here was because of the TdF. I came here as a photo moto and loved the place, but I had not looked at the Tour since 2012. My focus had been on mountains and living in the Pyrénées and bicycle racing was limited to The Transcontinental only. This new way of racing reached places in my imagination the TdF no longer did. Everything about it fired up my passion for bike racing again. I also wanted to make a spot tracked race. My wish is to create something that Desgrange would have liked. This is partly what Further is about. The last few months, I have been going through different routes, trying to weave a path around the Ariège. A tour of the Ariège that would describe it, a race that would convey the landscape and the location to the racers. Further is not about finding gravel to race on for gravels sake, or Hike-a-Bike because we know this is the trend. It’s about seeing what the Ariège is. When I looked at the Stage 15 route, I immediately spotted Montségur and to my great surprise, the stage was very close to my Further route. There is a big difference however. The race climbed Montségur as Further will, but the TdF turned right at Montferrier and followed the valley around the Massive of Tabe. Further, then, turns left at Montferrier. We climb to the peak of Mont Fourcat. Further goes up past the Prat d’Albis. Further goes where race support vehicles cannot go. Further is unsupported. Further is like one stage in the TdF, but a stage from 100 years ago with the twist of modern tech.

London Frame Builders | Saffron Frameworks Since settling into our Spitalfields store we’ve set about making new friends and finding local brands who share our values. What we found was a small community of frame builders, each offering their own bespoke experience, all sharing our love for cycling. We went and met a few of them in their workshops and asked a couple of questions. Saffron Frameworks is a frame builder with a passion for designing and creating truly beautiful but functional bicycles. Every one of their frames are uniquely designed and built for you. Visit the website | Follow Saffron on Instagram What were you doing before you started frame building and what led you to it? I was a Chef de Cuisine - Chronic fatigue led me out of the kitchen. I was racing at the time, my life stopped when chronic fatigue set in and depression took over. I read an interview with Darren Crisp of Crisp Titanium which was the catalyst that drew me out of depression and onto the road to becoming a frame builder. The journey started in 2009. What is the strangest request you’ve received from a customer regarding their new frame? An A frame bicycle. What do you think will be the next major innovation for road bikes and is there anything you’d like to see become the norm in the future for cycling? This is 3D printing. For carbon and steel bicycles. What was your favourite ride of 2018 and which ride are you most looking forward to/dreaming of this year? 2018 saw me off the bike mostly as i spent it recovering from worn away cartilage in my knees. At this point i will be happy just getting lost on a trail in the woods. If you could build frames for a cycling team past or present, road or otherwise, who would it be? Ha, this is a current rider, named Dan Craven. I have so much love for this man. We built him a frame to race in the Commonwealth games!

The Lemon Farmers Of The Col de la Madone Seven generations of the Tosan family have been farming lemons on the slopes where the mountains of the Alpes-Maritimes plunge dramatically into the Mediterranean in the bay of Menton. At least, it’s seven as far as current proprietors Sylviane and Jean-Claude know. It couldn’t be traced any further. That means they were farming lemons when they were more medicinal than gourmet. The Tosans used to supply the fruit to the boats to cure the sailors of scurvy when they arrived at the old port just a few kilometres below their terroir. Jean-Claude, the 72 year old patron of this particular lemon farm, started racing a bike when he was a teenager. Like many, he started cycling as a necessity - to get to school - and it turned into a lifetime obsession. He’s competed in all the local races, including Les Courses Disparues such as the Boucle de Sospel. But when asked what is his dream parcours, his wife answers ‘l’autoroute’. Because he loved speed. The current pace of movement is much slower on the farm that sits just below the more-than-moderate gradients of the Route de l’Armeé les Alpes - aka the Col de la Madone. It’s a terraced terrain covered with trees dappled with yellow bursts of zest that contrast against the almost-evergreens, but which peak in and around February each year. Just in time for the Fête du Citron in Menton which draws unexpected bus-loads of incoming tourist revenue. After introductions, lemons are cut and eaten as they are, rind included. Two terraced levels below the main house is the house where Jean-Claude’s parents lived. It remains as they left it, totally untouched. To keep this second maison on the land costs a bit in taxes, but when he needs some energy Jean-Claude goes and sits in the living room and, so Sylviane says, he comes back a new man. The taxes are more than worth it. In the toolshed attached to that house is his last competition bike – a 90’s Colnago, complete with ITM negative-degree stem and Campagnolo Athena groupset. He bought it in Monaco where they lived before the death of his parents and inevitable move to the family farm. Below that tool shed is the Garden of Eden… no … Menton. We came to learn about lemons. We found oranges, clementines, grapefruit, bananas, thyme, olives, kumquats... The list goes on and Sylviane will expand on each item with passion, if you have the time. All this is possible due to the micro-climate of the bay of Menton. The Alps create a screen behind that keeps out the cold mountain air, which usually gets trapped in the valley at Sospel. South facing, the farm benefits from la douceur de temps. But it hasn’t always been that way. Citrons depend on natural elements : le terroir – the dry rocky soil - and la méteo but of course there is also human influence. In the 1960s there was a virus that almost dried up the entire lemon tree network in the area. The Tosan family had about 200 trees. They reckon maybe six survived. Snippets were taken and replanted from remaining trees that apparently resembled the mother Theresa. The lemon soil, with the help of a little soul, helped bring it all back. And the sun that shone and the warm Mediterranean breeze that blew, nurtured the fruit. The lemon represents concentrated soleil. At least it does to us. It’s alluring and undeniable, much like like Jean-Claude and Sylviane. They burst with life, sharing those archives of knowledge and experience that haven’t been written in books but rather have been lived on these terraces. Jean-Claude is like any cyclist when questioned about his life on the bike. ‘J’ai monté à 30kmh’! But the Madone isn’t even his favorite climb, he prefers the neighbouring Col de Castillon which joins Menton to Sospel. If you come to visit that climb, try that speed on your carbon 22-speed feather-weight. It’s hard if not impossible for more than one minute. Life on the lemon farm can be hard too. The Tosans didn’t make a proper harvest last year. They continue to do produce within the stringent French ‘bio’ regultations, with the soil and the trees being controlled annually by the authorities. To do it any other way requires an intensity and a method which does not match the family history, nor the family spirit. It’s not sustainable anymore so production is only what comes naturally and the results are sold at the market in Menton. Jean-Claude and Sylviane do it as respect for their parents and grand-parents and as a lesson to those generations below them. They know in the modern world this way of life is over-powered by other forces. They adapt and continue, just like Jean-Claude puts his bike in the small van and descends to the coast to continue riding. The lemon farmers of Menton will keep producing the best lemons in the for as long as their traditional artisanal métier permits. “People buy land to make money and then sell, we keep it for heritage and to keep our roots. If we lose our roots we have lost everything.”

The Ariège : Further Into The Pyrenees It's a Department of France with a reputation for being wild. Camille McMillan digs deep into coffers of the landscape that riders will traverse during the inaugural edition of the Further Race. Ariege - from the latin AURIGER : which contains, which carries gold to ( possibly ) Gold was collected from the tributaries that flow into the Ariège by placing the fleeces of sheep under the water and holding them down with rocks. The gold would get caught in the wool creating a golden fleece. Another way to collect the gold was to make ‘friends’ with the water nymphs that lived in the River Saurat in a village called Bédeilhac. If one was untrue to the Bédeilhac nymphs, the gold would turn to worthless stone. The Ariège is full of myths and truths like all places, however the Ariège is particularly packed with both. Above the village of Bédeilhac on one side is the Grotte de Bédeilhac , dating back 20,000 years. Prehistoric painted hand prints and art works still exist deep inside the cave. At the entrance of the cave there is no art work and this is where the village of Bédeilhac holds their Summer Fete. These village parties happen every year in every village in France, so not unusual, but it’s certainly a surprise that this one happens where presumably cave men did a dance 20,000 years before them. The cave entrance floor is particularly good for dancing as there is a large expanse of concrete. Nazi occupying forces in WW2 dug out the entrance of the cave and filled the first few 100 meters with concrete. They set to work in this natural bunker building Aircraft. Aircraft would fly out of the Grotte and go to war. How this timeline of human history can exist under one rock, I don’t know. It is something I find extraordinary. If you stand at the mouth of the cave you look across the village to ‘Le Calamès’. This crag is a mecca for climbers because of it’s sheer wall and there is a small ruin of a Cathar tower at the summit. Back when this region was a Cathar kingdom, it was said a crystal bridge spanned from this summit to the another nearby, where another ruin, ‘La Tour de Montorgueil’, still stands. This crystal bridge would have been an archway into the Saurat valley, with the Col de Port at its head. Another myth of the area, is the Cathar treasure. It is buried nearby. Apparently, six men escaped the castle siege of Montségur with the Holy Grail and hid it somewhere in the Ariège ( Probably wrapped in a golden fleece ). While the Nazi’s built their Aircraft, another division of the SS was out looking for the Holy Grail. Maybe as a race director I should dress like Indiana Jones. The truth of these ruins at Bedhiac is that they were the castles of the Counts of Foix, probably built at the end of the 12th century or the beginning of the 13th, at the end of the so called era of the Cathar. They fell into disrepair and are part of the landscape. Yes, there is real cave art in the Grottes, and the area was a crucible for modern man. Yes, there is an aeroplane inside the grotte where a French man landed his plane in 1972 and could not get it out again. What is real, and known of the Ariège is that it was at the heart of the Industrial Revolution of France. Blast Furnaces were cooled by the Ariège in Tarascon, the Great Forges were powered by the water of the Ariège. Foix, the capital of the Ariège prospered from the mining here, metals and stone. Farming in the mountains was kept simple in the old ways with terraces up the mountains creating pasture for cattle. The population collapsed after the great war as most of the young men were killed and the mining and industry declined. The Ariège pretty much returned to the wild for most of the 20th Century. Maybe gold still flows down the Ariège, maybe not, but there is definitely an invisible gold, the gold that is the electricity that the EDF generates from the rivers power. There is also the gold of ideas. For generations people have come here to get lost, to find themselves, to create a new self. This gold, is the gold of romantic ideas that have been fertile for centuries.

Tour de Cannes : A Première Before The Première "Some stars and directors come to the Cannes Film Festival by boat, others by private jet. Michael Angelo Covino and Kyle Marvin pretty much cycled their way into Cannes." - The Washington Post - It could be suggested that Mike Covino and Kyle Marvin wrote The Climb as an elaborate excuse to buy beautiful Speedvagen bikes and half the Café du Cycliste collection before ‘jumping the pond’ to ride the roads of the Côte d’Azur. Making a film that ended up winning the Coup de Coeur in the Un Certain Regard category was simply a nice by-product. After Festival Director, Thierry Frémaux, used The Climb as a prefix to talk at length about cycling in the region and Eddy Merckx's 50th anniversary of winning the tour during the official selection announcement, it was mutually agreed the inaugural edition of the Tour de Cannes had to happen. Everyone talks about cycling in films, but what about films (or their makers) in cycling? With agendas full of meetings, press interviews and free bars the premiere parcours was kept coastal, away from the slopes of the arrière-pays. The best escape from the Festival buzz is to head west along the coast to the Esterel, or the Corniche d'Or as its known locally. For The Climb production team, it was a welcome break from the intensity of festival business and a chance to connect with local riders, like the Icard family - father Michel, son Florent and brother/uncle Marc have a local heritage in the regional cycling scene like no other. Broken french meets broken english meets the joy of cycling on the Côte d’Azur. Hand gestures and false sprints up each rise bridge the language barrier. Any aller-retour needs a good turnaround point. Agay is a good one because (a) there's a roundabout and (b) beside that roundabout is a café serving the best tarte aux pommes - or if you're an American film maker – apple pie. Here Mike and Kyle answer questions on the film, why it involves the bicycle as a theme and why they choose the Col de Vence as a location for the first (and for some critics the funniest) scene. They also ponder extending the ride instead of turning back to make the first meeting of the day. On the return the Tour de Cannes peloton comes upon one of the regular mid-week rides of elder cycling statesmen, one of whom is sporting World Championship bands. 'If you can beat him up the hill, the film will win a prize.' And with that Mike was off. American film director (maybe with some slight ‘festival fatigue’) plays 50 something Azureéan cyclist. Let's just say.... it was the right result for both riders. Returning to the Croisette, the roll was called for a photo in front of the red carpet of the Palais des Festival where the film premiered the next day. After which it set the online review world on fire, after which…it won the Coup de Coeur prize in the Un Certain Regard Category. Before that however, it was agreed that even if Mike and Kyle don’t have another movie in next year’s Official Selection, they’ll still be there for the second edition of Tour de Cannes next year.

The last ride #11 Imagine for a moment that there was only one more. A single day, a final chapter, a last ride. Of all the miles covered and all the roads ridden, which would draw you back to experience them one more time. ICELAND ON REPEAT Adam K Master // Commercial Actor, Model & Cyclist // @adamkmaster My “last' ride would be one I’ve already done. It would be a ride in which I was riding for others. As much enlightenment as we all gain through riding, my last ride would have a purpose other then myself. I feel lucky to have had many experiences, but nothing beats a good landscape paired with lending a hand to those in need. 2015, I rode my bicycle around the country of Iceland fixing and repairing every child's bike I could get my hands on. I had free time in Oct of 2015 to do whatever trip I wanted, of course I was thinking bicycles. After some thought, I realized it was another selfish trip to further gain MY experiences. I wanted to do a trip in which I could still enjoy the ride, but had a purpose. With the help of friends and strangers donating money to this idea of riding around Iceland (not just the Ring Road, but going around some of the major peninsulas as well, ouch) fixing and repairing children bikes. Salomon Anaya and I dragged 90lbs each of extra weight on our cyclocross bikes…Mind you, I only weight 120lbs. We had hundreds of inner tubes, tools, lubes, cable, housing and small parts with us. With not much extra personal gear other then camping supplies, we went head first into Icelands cold, sleet, rainy, cloudy, sunless, muddy conditions with smile on our faces. So, for my last ride I would love to do another ride in which I can go freely. I would pull over and assist someone with a bicycle in which needs help fixing. I remind myself that in other countries the bicycle is a huge tool in their everyday lives and is just a toy for some of ours. Take whatever “Trait” you posses and give it back to humanity with no expectation. Do it willingly in hopes you inspire others to share their traits. I wonder if any of those Icelandic children question the dark little asian man, riding his bike in the pouring rain, offering to fix their broken bicycle for nothing in return. There’s endless adventure within humanity, but how many of us have an adventure to help humanity? -Adam K Masters RENDEZ-VOUS IN MALLORCA Ben Sumner // Passionate ex pro, still out there taking KOM's // @bensumner1 If I had one ride left it would have to be adrenaline filled, so there would be no tranquil back drops or beautiful lakes unfortunately! Back in my racing days I used to head out to Palma, Mallorca on a one-way flight with the intention of doing as many miles as possible until I totally cracked. It was well known by all the cyclists out there that if you wanted to get a good ride in, head to the beach front for 10am and hang around until you see a collection of lean legs gather outside the usual cafe. ... 40 or so riders from all over the world would spin out. The days would start with plenty of steady climbing until dropping down the final descent of the day but this is when things started to get chewy! The back lanes of Mallorca is where the real riding would happen as you turned back in the direction of home. Through and off for 40 miles down lanes no wider than a Fiat 500, lined out behind Helmut, Hermann & Jürgen who you met only a few hours ago and now your life is in their hands! By the time you could smell the sea, riders had been shelled left, right and centre! These rides took no prisoners and it was every man for himself! Although no ceremony was going to be held, sights on winning the Palma town sign sprint felt pivotal. Once war was done we would roll into Old Town Palma for a well-earned coffee and cake before recovering to do it all over again. Seems like an amusing day out for my last ride and very easy to only think of the good times from the comfort of my flat!

The last ride #10 Imagine for a moment that there was only one more. A single day, a final chapter, a last ride. Of all the miles covered and all the roads ridden, which would draw you back to experience them one more time. THE DAWN TO DUSK GRAVEL RAID Simon Taulelle // Artistic Director, Motion Designer & Gravel Grinder // @sims_teuteul A last ride must be festive but above all well organized to make the most of it! So I have some requirements on this subject: 1. It will take place from dawn to dusk, bien sûr. 2. It will be done not alone, but with friends. 3. It will be ridden on gravel roads. 4. There will be no lack of fun, but a schedule will be needed to maximise said fun. THE SCHEDULE 08h00 : Wake-up with a beautiful landscape view after an improvised bivouac the day before. 08h10 : Coffee with said view. 08h30 : Folding the camp (even for a last ride you should not be in a hurry…). It’s part of the process. 10h30 : First pedal strokes on a small mountain road. 11h00 : Bakery and second coffee stop in the first village you cross because... why not! 11h30 : First-class gravel track. 12h15 : Perfect single track to a small village. 13h00 : Plug-in the hundreds of devices that need charging. It’s part of the process. 13h05 : Food orgy. 14h00 : Digesting lunch whilst climbing a small mountain pass. 15h30 : Follow a gravel track along the ridge, then ride along the shore of a lake. 16h30 : Swim in the lake. 17h40 : Capture the moment with pictures. It’s part of the process. 17h45 : Go full NASA mode on the downhill. 18h00 : Ride the last 15km on the road flat out like a TT team and find a bar. 19h00 : Find a restaurant. 19h10 : Food orgy number two. 21h00 : Find another bar. 22h10 : Pitch the tents. 22h30 : Share stories about this day around the campfire. 23h59 : Recovery position. With experience I imagine that probably nothing that is written above will go as planned but as I used to say: 'the important thing is the essence' AU BORD DE MER Matthieu Lifschitz // Illustrator, Graphic Designer & Randonneur Extraordinaire // @manivelle.cc I ride day and night, summer and winter, alone and in a group. Sometimes I ‘race’ (whatever the definition of that word is these days) but most of the time I don’t. I go far, cross borders, take photos, and have fun. I’m a randonneur. So yes, if there is only one randonnée left? The ultimate one. I think of the night…. The temptation is strong to choose a ride up Col de la Bonette or Mont Ventoux at night and experience again with friends the feeling of climbing these mountains as discreetly as a wolf and be rewarded with seeing the day rise before our eyes. But that would lack a particular feeling - or flavour - other things that speak to me when you tell me it will be my last. So tonight I take to the road alone, from my home in Marseille. It's 7pm, it's the beginning of summer and the sun is shining. I still have a few hours left before the twilight and I leave the city via the Col de la Gineste towards Cassis and the coast road that leads me east to Nice, 250km further on. The light quickly falls, the landmarks stretch out, the curves become distorted and the elevation changes seem blurry. The usually overcrowded coastal roads become fluid and, in many places, deserted. The sparkling cities are checkpoints with their share of folklore. Some shine with artificial colours, others display their own particular customs. The night has its rituals and its entertainment, sometimes drunk. Crossing urban areas in and out of industrial zones and secondary roads is like meeting another population. I like to observe how, at night, we become a different people. Laughing on fairground dodgems; a furtive and stunned look of a passer-by in pyjamas walking his dog; the proud and macho posture of a group of males on a café terrace; an approving nod of an urban cyclist. It is a cold and suspicious ride at 3 a.m. Passing through the night with lights and reflective equipment turns you into a kind of passing curiosity. Seen and gone in an instant. Incongruous. The day is coming up on the gold coast road that skirts the Esterel National Park. Nature continues its performance as the sunrise wakes the Riviera up. Nice unveils itself, the world’s decorations are back in place and the light makes me invisible again as I blend in with the normality of the day. It's 8am. One more coffee, please.

THE BEST CROISSANT IN LONDON The Mediterranean, mountain roads, glasses of rosé in the sun… there are certain aspects of London life that fail to live up to la vie Niçoise, but one thing we thought we could find to relieve our home sickness was a humble pastry. One that would live up to our (admittedly elevated) standards. It’s harder than you think. After months of tasting and testing we finally found what we were looking for. Situated just off London Fields you’ll find Yeast Bakery. For the past eight years they’ve been providing east London with authentic French patisserie, operating with one simple goal – “to make the perfect croissant.“ We decided to cycle on over and meet its founder, Ben, to find out how it came to be. What has brought you to become a baker? More precisely French patisserie? I used to be in marketing but have always been passionate about food. So I wanted to try and do something in this area but focus on one thing and be the best at doing it. I noticed that no-one was making a decent croissant in London so decided to specialise in high quality viennoiserie. And that’s how it all started... What’s your process to source ingredients? We aim to be the best so we need to use top quality ingredients. In fact we now source most of our supplies from France as we know excellence is going to come as standard and there will be no compromise on quality. What’s your connection and fondest memory of France? My great grandmother was French but that’s about as far as any personal connection goes. We have a number of bakers who come over from France each year so it’s great to maintain an association that way too. But my fondest memory of France was when I was a teenager staying with my correspondent and being sent to the local boulangerie to buy baguettes and then devouring most of them on the walk home! Do you visit regions of France to discover regional pastries and seek inspiration? For example, Brittany inspiring your Kouign-Amann Having a 24/7 bakery doesn’t give us that much time to get away unfortunately but we try to take a traditional product and re-engineer it to create something unique that looks and tastes great. We developed both the Kouign-amann & Brioche Feuilletée this way and have a real following for these products As a cyclist yourself, what comes first: pastry or bikes? That is impossible to answer... can I say both?!? What makes your pastries so special? Each day we try to make the best possible pastries we can. Using top quality ingredients helps but it’s the desire to give our customers the opportunity to experience an amazing product that really drives us and, we hope, makes our pastries so special.

MIKE & KYLE'S RIDES Two steel bikes from different continents and completely different eras. "It's like some photographers will stick to digital and never try film. Film photography and its whole process is beautiful. Steel bikes are the cycling equivalent". These are the bikes of THE CLIMB.

THE CLIMB Last summer Michael Angelo Covino made the coastal trip from Cannes Film Festival to Café du Cycliste to rent a bike immediately after securing the finance to produce his directorial debut feature length film. A group ride up Col d’Eze, a few noisettes and three months later, Mike was directing and starring in the first scene of THE CLIMB on the Col de Vence, duly kitted out in a custom Café jersey with a peloton clad in Monique Audax jerseys chasing him and his co-star and writing partner, Kyle Marvin, to the summit. Fast forward to this year’s announcement of the Cannes Film Festival Official Selection and The President, Thierry Fremaux, confirmed THE CLIMB would be included in the ‘Un Certain Regard’ category. The film premieres this Friday, 17thMay and whilst Kyle and Mike have a packed schedule, they did of course have time for a catch-up whilst climbing Col de Vence, where it all began. Directorial debut, selected for Cannes - CONGRATULATIONS – how did that happen? MIKE : You’d have to ask the selection jury… I don’t know what they were thinking…. It’s been a crazy journey. We had a short that people seemed to like. Once it got selected for Sundance we started exploring ideas to expand it into a full feature. But we had to move fast. We turned in our first script five days before Cannes last year and then we were shooting in August. It was an absolute dream scenario to premiere this movie at Cannes, both because we shot here – 35 mins from the Croisette – but also because the undertones of the film are very much based on an American persecptive on French sensibilities and French culture and on cycling. So to have been selected is unbelieveable, especially as when you’re making the movie you have no outside validation – only your own conviction in what you’re doing. KYLE : In some ways the journey started here. Mike first presented the script in its final form, at Cannes last year. And then we shot one of the first scenes here so in a weird way it’s manifest destiny – we started here and now we’re premiering here. Could you define the concept of the film in two lines? MIKE : I think it’s a love story about friendship between two guys told over the course of 12-plus years, that deals with the challenging ups and downs of that relationship. Why did you choose THE CLIMB as the title? MIKE: Life is a climb. I think that title is the best representation of what the core of the story is about - how life is this constant struggle uphill for these characters who have to accept that it’s not going to be easy and there will be these challenges that make things more and more difficult. It’s a bit like the way the good cyclists are those who can take a lot of pain over a long amount of time. Our ability to enjoy life and experience it is directly related correlated to our ability to endure suffering. A bit like Kyle on the Col de Vence today when he was cramping, but he kept turning the pedals…. So that’s why you chose to use the bike as a theme to tell a story? KYLE : there’s a lot of reasons. One because it’s a great physical challenge which lays bare your emotional state, when your concentration and your energy is consumed by the physicality of doing the thing. There’s a purity of thought and the conversation in bike riding and in film making you are always trying to capture exactly that. The first and last scenes take place on the bike – it’s a strong theme in the movie. And you clearly feel a connection with France? MIKE : there’s a cycling history in France unlike any other. The drama and stories and history are endless. But it’s actually more to do with having a French ex-girlfriend, and then a period in my life when I was starting to fall into French culture and it subjectively got tied into my experience of love at a time when I was ready to make a film. French cinema is an influence too – these big ideas of love come from French stories, cinema and poetry. And we needed to create an exotic mystery about the character that Kyle and Mike are in love with. A French woman is very ‘on the nose’, and in line with two delusional American characters who have idyllic notions of what love is. Why did you chose the Col de Vence to shoot the first scene? We went with it partly due to logistics but also because the view is insane; you can see the ocean and it really places you in the setting. And there are also weird little things like a little pony farm just after the Col that I could never possibly have imagined as part of the end of the first scene unless it was there and I’d seen it. Each scene of the film is shot using the single take ‘one shot’ technique – what was the reasoning behind that and how difficult was it to pull off? MIKE : There’s an immediacy that exists when you don’t cut. You get that in documentary style. And when you also utilize cinematic techniques and movements and blocking, and mise-en-scene to create a cinematic atmosphere in front of the camera then you kind of get the best of both worlds – intimacy of documentary plus the expanse of really dynamic camera movements. You’re utilizing the most ‘showy’ aspects of cinema in a way. The way we wrote the scenes were very conducive to that style of shooting….Even if that resulted in putting Kyle under an ice lake when it’s -20 outside for 45 seconds…. KYLE : Or struggle up a hill on bikes for 7 minutes while saying words. There’s also a pressure and focus on the acting which comes with it. Everyone gets into the moment really intensely because you have to really live in it every second. You’ve been to Cannes many times before on other movies that you’ve been involved with either through writing or producing – what’s so special about this festival? MIKE : for me it’s the biggest stage in global cinema, which makes it surreal to be playing there. It has a history of celebrating film that not a lot of other festivals do, and it has this amazing mandate – to bring in the best of world cinema from every corner of the globe and from every genre. It’s a curation platform, really like no other. You’re both still cycling regularly? KYLE : Hell yeah. I wasn’t a cyclist before. When we did the short I hadn’t ridden a bicycle since I was 12. It’s been an epiphany in terms of discovering the beauty of it. We had to get into it so intensely. We went up and down Col de Vence maybe 24 times in total last summer. The day before that we rode it in full (with you guys). We know Col de Vence pretty well. It’s an old friend. We cycle when we write in California. We take a break at lunchtime and ride to Griffith Park, the Hollywood sign and back. It’s a great way for us to change our pace and get that therapy that it provides and that clarity of headspace. It’s a part of my life now. MIKE : I got into cycling because I wanted to buy the clothes and I thought it would be weird if I was wearing the clothes without a bike. I wanted to be wearing lycra at all times and to protect myself from being considered a real creep, I thought I should buy a bike. What do you look for in cycling clothing design? Simplicity I think. Either simplicity or outrageousness but the colours are the most important thing. We stuck to a very specific colour scheme both for the characters and also the entire visual of the film. And that’s why when we first spoke with Café du Cycliste I wanted to find a way to collaborate because the aesthetic of the film and colours and designs the brand uses was a perfect match. It’s simple but also really bold colour choices that stand out and pop rather than having crazy designs and things going on all over the place. KYLE : there’s also an authenticity to the brand. You can wear flashy stuff but it’s not authentic with good performing fabrics it just feels cheap. The quality really makes it feel natural. MIKE : It helped that you’re French, you’re on the ground here and connected into the local scene. You helped so much in sourcing local riders to make the peloton and all the cycling logistics. We definitely couldn’t have pulled off the opening scene without you guys. Photography: Eugénie Pigeonnier

FURTHER Further is the brainchild of photographer Camille McMillan. It is described as ‘A new frontier in Adventure Cycling’. It’s a chance to discover a lesser known part of the French Pyrenees and explore new perspectives on cycling. Camille explains what Further means to him. 1. IF THIS WERE AN EXAM QUESTION IT WOULD BE : ‘DEFINE FURTHER’ Further the event is a race and a rally in the Ariège deparment in the south west of France. It’s happening from 23-26 August. There will be no women’s race, just one race. Women and men race on an equal footing. The race will play with borders, departmental and national. Further the concept, to me, is not far. It’s about making a decision to ride somewhere you’ve never been before, somewhere that makes you curious for whatever reason, somewhere that presents a physical challenge, somewhere that is a point of interest. The interesting places are usually hard to get to, that’s the way the world is these days. Further is about poetry in sport, not science in sport. It’s about gaining fresh perspectives via the bicycle but not necessarily on the bicycle. That narrative can be created by people – cyclists – from all walks of life coming together. Which is the call to action for the rally. 2. HOW HARD WILL THE RACE BE? It will be really quite hard. The race starts on a Friday and you have to finish it by Monday. But there is no pressure other than that which is self-inflicted. Riders can peel off and return to the rally if they have issues. There are checkpoints but not all will be manned. There are some very inventive ideas being thrown around as to how riders prove their presence at the unmanned CPs. For those at the front, the established riders of this discipline, I’m thinking of it as an ‘ultra sprint’. I know these guys and they will go at it hard. This first race year is by invitation and we’re looking for ten women and ten men. 3. THE RALLY – A GRATEFUL DEAD CONCERT FOR THE CYCLING WORLD? PLEASE EXPLAIN… In 1964 Ken Kesey and his band of comrades (the Merry Pranksters) set out in an old school bus on a road trip around the United States - the bus was named Further and the Grateful Dead was the house band. The trip was documented by Tom Wolfe in the The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test and was a beacon of the counterculture of the 1960’s. To this day an icon of rebellion. Whilst I am not suggesting that Further is a beacon of counter culture, Further will create a space to explore new lands mentally and physically using the bicycle (not a bus or LSD). 4. WHO WILL BE THERE & WHY WILL THEY BE THERE? Curious people, I hope. People who want to explore and discover new things. I expect a diverse group of cyclists from different cultures and backgrounds. I know plenty of these people already. Heart surgeons, writers, engineers, artists. They are all cyclists but what their day to day jobs or other hobbies brings to cycling – especially adventure cycling - is interesting to me. These are the people from the long distance and ultra endurance community. Connections and friends from TCR. I’m also hoping some riders will get the over-night train after finishing Paris-Brest-Paris. It’s an event organized to capture and capitalize on the shared experiences and emotions adventure riders have in common. The race is a loop with headquarters on the plain at the bottom of the mountains. There will be wild camping but with a swimming pool, a bar and the race tracking on a big screen. And, of course, it’s all surrounded by an undiscovered cycling playground where people can go for a ride then come back and watch the race with everyone else. 5. HOW HAS YOUR EXPERIENCE IN THE CYCLING WORLD GOT YOU TO THIS POINT? At age eight I did my first race, a cyclocross one. I got destroyed but eventually I developed a love of autumn cyclocross on dry off-road terrain. So off-road riding must be engrained in my physce since then. I’ve been through the road racing phase from start to finish. From crit racing, road racing to covering the Tour de France. That eventually all began to feel a bit too structured. Then Mike Hall invited me to TCR and I was hooked. Off road, on road, riders getting lost, narratives being created by every cyclist I encountered. It was all the things I love about cycling. It had a dynamism that really attracted me. 6. NOT MANY PEOPLE WILL HAVE HEARD OF THE ARIÈGE – WHAT SHOULD THEY KNOW ABOUT THIS AREA OF THE PYRENEES? When people think of the Pyrenees they ask ‘how far is Lourdes’, or ‘is it close to the Tourmalet’. No-one thinks of the Ariège, but the Tour passes through here every year. The joke is that the locals are Belgians who got lost on their way to Spain. It’s not touristic France. It’s a rural, bucolic France stuck in time. There is a mixture of indigenous people and people who come here to live alternative lifestyles. There is a lot of subsistence farming and local markets. They say bears were reintroduced here from Romania. It’s a controversial subject (a bit like the wolves in the Mercantour National Park). It’s a wild landscape with lots of forests on the lower slopes and bear mountain peaks up above. But there are no foothills. 7. PHOTOGRAPHY IS STILL A FUNDAMENTAL PART OF YOUR LIFE. WHERE IS ITS PLACE IN THE FURTHER MIX? I have to document Further. I’m constantly documenting. Where I’m going, what I’m finding in the preparation of the event. Digital photography is effectively note-taking for me. But. I also have a large format wooden film camera and I’m going to start shooting ‘considered’ film. Slow, deliberate photography. To find out more, to join the race or rally or to simply be part of the Further Community, click here :FURTHER - ADVENTURE CYCLING

Bike Ski - The New Duathlon At 1600m up, deep within the Mercantour National Park, surrounded by snow-covered peaks, the pick-up truck is being loaded two by two. Bikes, check. Skis, check. Mountain packs, check. Up here you could be mistaken for thinking cycling had been left behind on warmer coastal roads in favour of the more traditional alpine winter activity. Not so for Manon and Audrey who, when faced with a choice between the two sports, take the third option – both. For them the skyline is the limit, how you get there is the fun part. Audrey was born in the mountains, Manon by the sea. But both were raised on the slopes (Manon’s parents hail from Grenoble). Adventure, speed and a love of the outdoors are engrained in their psyche. Audrey is a former downhill ski racer turned teacher in Saint-Étienne-de-Tinée, the village in the valley below her birth town of Auron. Manon is a business student turned shop proprietor in Auron. The two have been friends since Manon made the move from the seaside town of Cagnes-sur-Mer to the mountains some two hours above. They bonded by exploring the mountain playground on their doorstep. Auron is situated above the Vesubie valley on the western side, just before the road climbs out of the basin in Saint-Étienne-de-Tinee to make its southern ascent to the Col de la Bonette. Whilst access to Europe’s highest road (we know, highest paved ‘through’ road that passes from one valley to the next) may be closed during these winter months, the possibilities remain endless – especially when equipped with the correct gear. Life in the mountains mid-season is busy, Manon and her partner Flo never stop working with ski rentals and equipment sales to the demanding masses seeking a quick mountain fix. As a school teacher, Audrey also has a full agenda educating the local children, save for Wednesdays when her pupils get a mid-week break. So ‘hump day’ is the guaranteed escape into the plein air for what is regarded as an essential weekly dose of mountain adventure. Away from the ski lifts and chalets that ooze the smell of melted cheese, just 15km north lies Saint-Dalmas-le-Selvage, the hamlet at the base of the first valley to fork left off the Col de la Bonette climb. It’s a beautiful village that has retained its traditional appearance – only stone and wood are on show. No shop facades or synthetic materials here. Located at the base of the Col de la Moutière, it's the perfect starting point. The Moutière is the lesser-known alternative way to the Col de la Bonette and as the smaller sibling, it does not get the attention of the snow-clearing déneigement teams. Audrey and Manon get loaded up – packs with ski boots and essential spares, skis clipped on to back packs in criss-cross fashion. Fat tyres touch the snow. Ride the road until the ski-randonnée piste begins and traverse the mountain to the summit. For the past two years Audrey and Manon have been developing their strategy for getting up any mountain the smoothest and most delicate way before descending with effortless speed and a shot of adrenalin. “I find inspiration on the bike when discovering new and untouched roads. It is the same feeling clicking into my skis. The advantage of our region is, that no matter where you go with your bike or with your skis, it feels magical, it feels untouched”The silence that comes with riding on snow just adds to this sensation and leaving the road to explore further and higher is the next level – time to unclip the pedals and clip into the bindings. Getting off piste into the wild and fresh powder, its up to you to decide which way to go. It is set to be a challenge, but not a challenge that you can't overcome and win. It is all about looking ahead and looking up. Ever up. When reaching the mountaintop overlooking Saint-Dalmas, the sun has changed its position and is casting strobes of light and shadow across the slopes below. The unmarked snow now marked with trails from the skis, it is time to change direction and adjust the bindings that provided the traction on the ascent. But not before a moment of appreciation. Suddenly Audrey remembers why she returned to the mountains after having studied for a few years in Nice: 'Can you hear that? That is the sound of the mountains”. The descent is Manon’s favourite part. She lives for “la sensation de vitesse” - the sensation of speed that comes from analysing the terrain as you surf gravity's wave on the way down, whether it be by ski or by bike. Adrenalin is her primary motivation to climb. And after the effort, both are happy to point their skis downwards as it’s now l'heure du gouter. Raclette anyone? With a population of only 60 in Saint Dalmas during the winter season, the silence of the village is deafening. Passing the few locals that are out for lunch with skis strapped to the bag it doesn't go unnoticed but Audrey knows everyone in this region so when they recognise her, all is understood. Chez Valerie is the only restaurant in town. Audrey shouts ‘bonjour’ and immediately walks into the kitchen to organise the raclette. Double the sport means double the menu, bien sûr. Sitting beside the fire as the light fades outside Audrey and Manon start discussing the location for next week’s adventure. The skyline is definitely the limit for these two. Footnotes: A big thank you to both Audrey and Manon for sharing their adventure lunch ride.

It never rains But when it does. Be prepared, for men and women.

New Yorkers' New Year, Finding Light on the Riviera New intentions for the New Year are great, but only if you have the right weather.   It being the case that in January New York doesn't have the best riding conditions, photographer Donalrey Nieva and partner Karen Yung took a last minute plunge onto the flight databases and found themselves based in Vieux Nice.   After a day's riding with them in the winter sun on the south side of the Col de Turini we exchanged some questions and answers together with a selection from Don's trademark 'from the saddle' photography. Karen says you only go on holiday to ride bikes is this true? Generally speaking, yes. Riding a bike is hands down the best way to explore a place. I think it offers a unique perspective and a more authentic experience that you can only get when riding a bike. And, in my defence, we've definitely gone on holidays where we didn't bring our bikes. Does renting a bike count? It’s your first return to the Côte d’Azur after your #nicefarride adventure with Far Ride Magazine – what brought you back? Originally we had our sights on Mexico City as I wanted to ride over Paso de Cortes - a 3,400 m mountain pass. The logistics on trying to plan that trip were proving to be quite a headache and just a little ambitious. At the end of the day we just wanted to be somewhere where we can relax and at the same time have access to good riding right out the door. Nice is perfect for this - sleep in, ride 100km or so, come back to a beautiful sunset, eat some good food, and repeat. Also, Karen has never been to the South of France so that was another reason. I liked it the first time I was here, but I fell in love this time around. Your Firefly is as immaculate as it is beautiful but it’s no lightweight mountain-goat – how does that affect the way you ride? It is slightly heavier than my other all-road bike and at times it does feel like I need to put in just a little more effort to keep up with people. Although I think this is more likely due to my lack of fitness and the 1x gearing than the actual bike itself. With that said, I did have this bike built with adventure riding in mind. So going a little slower is okay as I get to soak in all the views. Overall it's just a pure joy to ride this bike. You found some 'Groads' – how do they compare to others you’ve ridden around the world? The groads I've ridden here are quite nice especially on my 2.3' tires! I particularly like that dirt road up to Col de Braus. It reminded me of some of the gravel roads we road in Colombia. Actually, @caleyfretz over at CylcingTips rated that Braus groad a 9.5 out of 10 via my Instagram story! I think so myself. What comes first : food, photography or bikes? Bikes comes first. I wouldn't have gotten deep into photography had it not been for bikes. Although Karen has definitely made me appreciate good food in general. What was the best post-ride meal you had whilst in Nice? We went to dinner at Boccaccio one night and ordered a Paella for two as they're famous for it. There was so much food that we ended up having enough left overs to have it as a post ride meal for two days! It was so good! You're famous on Instagram for your #lightbro pictures of NYC - how does the Provençal light compare? It's quite interesting as the sun here in Nice never gets too high. So it looks a never ending sunset, well until it sets at 6pm. It was a #lightbro paradise. How does your approach change between photography jobs and photography on personal trips like this? The approach doesn't really change. I still look at things the same whether it be composition, light, etc. Although on personal trips like this I do feel a little guilty asking people to go back up a road so I can capture a shot I have in mind. Quickfire questions: Croissant or pain au chocolat? Croissant Vous parlez français? Non Seaside or high mountains? High mountains 700c or 650b? 26' because #26IsNotDead. It's also the wheel size on my new Firefly. Red or white? White on white for sure.

THE BEST SOCCA IN THE WORLD The Best Socca In The World can only come from Nice….Nizza….Nissa la Bella. The Best Socca In The World is a matter of opinion, expressed strongly by those who have grown up eating it with papa, maman, grand-mère et papi. The Best Socca In The World is perfectly crusted on top yet still moist underneath, dusted with simple ground brown pepper if you prefer. The Best Socca In The World comes after a classic niçoise ride out west on the Grande Corniche over Col d’Eze to Menton before turning north and then east over the infamous Col de la Madone. The Best Socca In The World should be accompanied by Provençal rosé chilled to the point where condensation gathers on the outside of the glass. The Best Socca In The World is poured, turned, scoured and scraped by Mourgan, who learned the trade from his patron, who learnt the trade from his papi. The Best Socca In The World is one part chickpea flour, one part yeast, one part water but is textured and tastes like no other pancake you have ever experienced. The Best Socca In The World, in our entirely correct opinion, is found at Chez Pipo behind the church at the top of Nice’s Old Port, in the quartier where sailors once roamed. Read more about the perfect soul food for cycling in our the best of series.

The last ride #9 Imagine for a moment that there was only one more A single day, a final chapter, a last ride. Of all the miles covered and all the roads ridden, which would draw you back to experience them one more time? CHASING THE PERFECT CORNERMountain-biker & Photographer // @mattwragg One last ride? It's a great sharpener for the mind. After all, if we've got a lifetime of riding left, why does it matter which one we do now? But just one more... it's a great chance to think about what you really love about riding. Is it the adventure, the freedom, the fitness? For me it's far simpler than that: I love riding bikes. What I mean is that I love the very act of riding a bike. I'm not a graceful man. I stumble through this world an awkward, clumsy man with heavy hands and a treacherous sense of balance. Yet on the bike I can rise above it all. There are delicate, fleeting moments of grace. Times when I can make the bicycle dance beneath me, when I feel like I can make it do whatever I want, however I want. And if I can only do it once more, that's all I want. I have always been a mountain biker at heart, it always was and will always be my first love, so it's only right things end there too. The where doesn't matter, the when hardly does either. But the ground, the dirt, is so important and if there is one thing more precious to a mountain biker like me than anything else, it is loam. Soft, deep soil that gently sprays across your shins as you ride. That feeling is about as close to the pure, white joy of childhood as you will ever find this side of puberty. It is the one thing I miss more than anything else living in the South of France - we just don't have enough dirt. There was a time, maybe a decade ago now, when the locals started kicking in what they called drift tracks at Chicksands, a small riding spot an hour or so north of London in the UK. The soil there was always incredible - deep, soft and sandy. The tracks were nothing really. Off the back of the bike park we'd head off into the forest to find some secluded slope and kick in some corners between the bushes. And that was all it took: good dirt, a few corners and a group of friends. Part of the beauty was the lack of consequences. The soil was so soft and forgiving that you could crash your brains out and come up laughing. We could push and push and push until we went well over the limit and landed in a heap. It was everything I love about cycling in one place - there was no destination or goal, just the simple of act of trying to corner fast and deeper, to get the bar right down to the ground as you turned, to play with the entry and the exit, trying different lines, all the while chasing that ever-elusive feeling of the perfect corner. Whether we ever found that perfect corner never mattered. It was never about speed, time or any other measure; just the simple feeling of turning a bicycle in the dirt as the loam gently brushes against your shins. That and laughing like hell when someone got it wrong and ended up in a bush or on their head. So for my last ride I just want a group of good friends and a hillside with rich, deep soil. I would spend my last hours on a bike chasing after the perfect corner, laughing at each other as we go flying off into the bushes, chatting shit and riding until the sun sets and we have to walk back to the cars in the twilight. UNFINISHED BUSINESSTech Writer at CYCLING WEEKLY // @PaulNorman I’ve got unfinished business with the Passo Giau. It may not have the mystique of Alpe d’Huez, but it does have more hairpins – 29 of them – and its summit is over 400 metres higher at 2236m. When brands invite journalists to launches, they usually choose impressive locations or those steeped in cycling mythology. There can be few which encompass both as completely as the Dolomites. The scene of the final showdown in the 1973 Giro d’Italia, the Passo Giau features in the classic film of that race, The Stars and the Water Carriers. In those days it was still unpaved, with Merckx and Gimondi battling it out over the gravel with an angry swarm of Spanish climbers. Most recently – now tarmacked – it’s featured in the 2016 Giro, with the Maglia Rosa of Andrey Amador distanced and lost on the climb and handed to almost-winner Steven Kruijswijk. The Giro commentary on the stage ominously described the climb as “il terribile Passo Giau”. So when I was invited to the launch of a new bike by a famous Italian brand, the lure of the Giau over the horizon was irresistible. After breakfast, I made my excuses not to join the short launch ride and headed off on my own towards the pass. There’s no such thing as a flat road in the Dolomites, so I had a good thousand metres and a few hours’ riding in my legs before hitting the Giau, with its signs warning of those 29 hairpins ahead of me. With images of 1973 in my mind, I forged on up the lower slopes. It took me until bend 10 before a few facts quickly came to me: I was not Merckx, my legs hurt, I was hungry and running out of water. And there were another 19 hairpins to go. The organised ride that I’d forsaken had other benefits. It ended at a café where food and drink had been laid on. Realising that I had no energy bars with me, I’d grabbed a few bread rolls from the hotel buffet before setting out. I’d munched a couple before reaching the Giau, I now reached into my pocket to find that the last of these had fallen out on the road somewhere on my approach. So there was nothing for it but to keep heading up, in search of civilisation. Bend followed bend, with the sun beating down on the airless valley and the climb seemingly stiffer and longer between each turn and each hairpin sharper and steeper than the last. There was no sign of life before bend 21, where at the end of an empty car park there was a ski lift with a restaurant at its base. A large plate of pasta, a bottle of water and a slice of apfelstrudel later and I felt rather more human. I was ready to carry on. Despite the considerable extra weight I’d taken on, those final eight bends seemed remarkably easily covered and the road was all downhill from then on.Looking at my Strava file when I got in, it was impressive just how slowly I’d climbed the Giau, especially with the hour’s lunch break in the middle. So my last ride would be up the Passo Giau, but this time with a following car to hand me up gels and bottles and to shout encouragement when I started to wilt. And it would be on an e-bike, so I would climb the Giau a bit faster on my last ride and maybe experience just a little of what it’s like to climb like Merckx.

Mountain Moods

A Transcontinental Architectural Tour As seen through the eyes of #TCRNo6Cap109, aka Manivelle.cc aka Matthieu Lifschitz

Madone beats The Golf-Drouot in the 9th arrondisement in Paris is roughly 1,000km north of the Col de la Madone. One was once a temple of rock 'n roll, the other is perhaps the most famous climb that has never featured in the Tour de France. One man and two passions brings them together. To the beat of the drum. The Golf-Drouout poured fuel on the fire burning inside Michel. He was born in mid-west France but he quickly emigrated north to the capital to find work. Michel had already fallen in love with the music of Elvis and his French counterpart, Johnny Halliday. He found himself selling haute-couture to the rich and famous on the Champs-Elysees. Living beside his work was, well, no bad thing. Reverberating through the floorboards was the music from the Go-Go dancing nightclub below. To the beat of the drum. The Golf-Drouout : 'C’était le temple du Rock and Roll '. The Rolling Stones used it as their press conference site whilst in Paris in 1965. It was Bowie’s first gig outside England. It was the place to be and Michel was in the thick of it. The impression lasts long enough to motivate a 50 minute commute from the Grande Corniche on the outskirts of Nice to 925m above Menton, the Pearl of France that lies at the end of the French Riviera. To the beat of the drum. The Golf-Drouot was a different time and a different place compared to home. Once a week, Michel packs his drums into the back of his car with one intention : to let loose up high without fear of being evicted by his wife. He candidly admits, “Je ne joue pas comme eux, je ne suis pas le batteur des Rolling Stones !' (I can’t play like them , I am not the drummer of the Rolling Stones !”). But what does it matter when your audience is wild boar, the odd shepherd and his flock and a brace of cyclists that occasionally includes a peloton of pros like Chris Froome? To the beat of the drum. The Golf-Drouot was down the street from where Michel's career selling haute couture to the well-heeled started. He found he had a natural talent for it. Being friendly but not too-friendly, helpful but not pushy. After four years in Paris he moved to the Croisette in Cannes where the customers were just as rich and just as famous. The clothes, if good enough, sold themselves, he said. And to be good, they must have colour and vitality. 'We need things that are bright, we are in a country of sunshine'. In a country diverse as France, with places like the Côte 'Azur, in Michel's opinion 'we miss nothing'. Therefore the clothes have to be special and colourful, as good as their surroundings. To the beat of the drum. The Golf-Drouot is closed now but in 2014 the Parisienne authorities erected a plaque in memory of it’s cultural significance. The original, traditional col sign on the Madone isn’t there anymore. The local marie got tired of replacing it every time it was stolen, such was the post-Lance lure of this climb that still, to this day, has never featured in the Tour de France. That doesn’t matter to Michel. He goes to the Tour almost every year, but more as an excuse for a journey across France to ride in the Alps and the Pyrenees. His principle is to have a good time and to ensure others do the same. From time to time, when cyclists stop on the Madone to chat, he gives them a cap from the collection he’s gathered from his trips to the Grande Boucle. To the beat of the drum. The Golf-Drouot started with sport (of kinds) and ended with entertainment. Michel first discovered the Col de la Madone when he rode it. The first time he thought it was never going to end. At the top he found a wild place, a complete contrast to the hustle and bustle of the Croisette, a place he only had to share with the sanglier and the shepherds. Up there Michel mounts his drums, inserts a CD into his stereo and rediscovers the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and Chuck Berry. Nearly at opposite ends of the country, a bit of the Golf-Drouot lives on and will continue to do so for as long as Michel is able. “Je pense jusqu'à la fin de mes jours de monter là-haut et je jouerais de la batterie rien que pour le plaisir.” (I think for the rest of my days i will go up there to play the drums, simply for pleasure) To the beat of the drum.   Footnotes: Photography & Video : Matt Wragg

The garden of Èze They say a Col d’Eze a day keeps the doctor away. The fruits of your labour are borne in the legs and they will take you deep into l’arrière-pays niçois when time permits. A ten kilometer climb straight from the city, it’s used by locals as a training ramp before or after work. Scores of cyclists can be seen staring at their stems – some because they are going for a time, others (who are new to the region) because they underestimated what is a ‘proper’ climb. But look up and you’ll find a not so forbidden fruit. The figs of the Grande Corniche. Actually, they are first noticed on the ground. The premier stage of the hunt is to scope the road edge for a semi-circle of smashed green and purple mulch. Some pre-ripe green figs remain in shape, but not for long. The second stage is to understand your orientation and elevation. The first two kilometres of Col d’Eze face west so only get the sun in the afternoon and early evening. It’s a beautiful view across the city but it’s not the prime spot for fig maturation. You must make the cross-over that comes by looping around the back side of the Observatoire and transition almost instantly from mountain vistas to coastal views as you pass through the Quatre Chemins. Face to the south, the sun rays and sea breeze are your soigneur for the rest of the climb, just as they are for the mother tree that is the fountain of fig on the Grande Corniche. The location of the mother tree is not secret and it is not hidden. It lives somewhere within the final four kilometres of Col d’Eze. Like cyclists, the fig tree likes dry and sunny climates and can cope in amongst the rocks, but isn’t suited to cities because of its aggressive root structure. The mother tree is there to be found but we are not about to tell you where or how. Because you have to ride for your figs. And now is the time. Like the legs, figs ripen in late summer and into autumn. A whole season of sun packed into one juicy punch. A time when main objectives have most probably been ticked off and riding is freeform and fun. So you can pack your figs in your musette and go long, or you can take a seat and savour the moment. Whichever way you want to do it, just go fig. See more about Col d’Eze