Subject: Etape du Tour (long) Well, I'm back and I survived. Executive summary: Cold, wet and very, very hard - but an incredible experience. Do it. The long version: Woke up at 5am, aiming to leave the hotel in Lordes at 6 to ride the 12 miles to the start. The rain is lashing down. Real bouncing off the pavement stuff. Out come the thick leg warmers and a long sleve top to go over the shorts and short sleve top I optimisically laid out the night before. Get down to breakfast. Several Americans take on look at the weather and decide they are not even going to start. Seems pretty poor to me - come all this way, pay lots of cash, and then don't even start..... 6am sees me on the bike with one other rider setting off in the pouring rain. The main group leaves at 6.15 to be at the start for 7 but I wanted a more relaxed time in case of punctures etc. About 30 seconds after setting off my shoes are soaked. About 45 seconds after setting out Heading down the main road in the dark is surreal - hordes of rides, none with lights (including me - I hadn't thought about the fact that it might be dark) and a solid stream of cars heading into Tarbes, all with bikes on the back. Oh, and it was raining. Hard. Did I mention that? As we get into Tarbes, the dawn breaks and it actually stops raining, so it's not so bad as we line up in our group (2000-2500) and wait for the off at 7.30. 7.30 comes, the loudspeaker goes mad, 3, 2, 1, Go! Massive cheer from the crowd. Nothing happens. The front riders might be off but it's about 10 minutes before I get to clip in and move off. Once through the official start where the time is taken (via a transponder on my ankle) the pace starts to pick up. Fairly shortly we're doing evens. 10 minutes later again as the numbers thin out a little I start to hop from group to group and start making up places. The first part of the ride is a long gradual drag towards the first catogorised climb of the day. Not steep enough to really notice, but it starts to split things up. I'm moving on the tail of a group doing about 25 at this point, and steadily overtaking people. Every now and then a group comes past with a sonic boom trailing in their wake and make me look as though I'm standing still.... The most amazing thing is the spectators. It's cold, wet and waaay too early in the morning, yet there are loads of people standing by the side of the road cheering us on. We hammer past a factory, and all the staff are at the side of the road. "Bon courage", "allez!". It's really amazing. In the UK, everyone would just be moaning about the road being closed. On the first catogorised climb, the Haut de la Cote and all is going well. I'm riding strongly and still steadily overtaking people. Having never been in the Alps or the Pyrenees before I don't really know what to expect. This climb is "short", only a couple of miles long..... Down the descent and away. One thing that I start to realise is how high the standard of bike handling is. It's nothing like a UK event. People are riding fast and close and it feels fine. Much better than a 4th cat chipper anyway. I think an event with 7500 UK cyclists in (like the London-Brighton) is one I'd want to be very careful in. Obviously not getting up at 3am to ride up and down the A1 is search of a meaningless time is good for a country's cycling culture [:)] Over the next climb, the Cote de Mauvezin and there's another gentle drag up the valley to the base of the Aspin. There's a fair headwind blowing and this point and the rain has started again. Not that that matters since I've been soaked from the start by spray. Over the top of the climb I tag along with some German riders and we do through and off for a while to catch onto a large group forming ahead. This is hard into the wind and already I'm starting to feel the latic acid burn. Heading along the valley road is one of the highlights of the ride for me. I'm in a group of about 200 riders, a clear road ahead, rolling along at 25 mph. At this stage to the ride, big groups have formed with clear gaps. Obviously the headwind encourages this. I know there are many riders ahead, but even on the straight bit of road I can't see anyone in front. Never believe it when people tell you that the Etape is a randonee like our UK Audax rides. It's not. It's a race. The group I'm in feels like a road race bunch not a club run. Keeping the gears ticking over, pushing it over the little rises, full on round the corners. It feels good. Got to be better than riding at 10mph on a tourer than weighs slightly more than a tank anyway [:)] Oh, and no mudguards in sight. The first feed station is somewhere around here. We pile though, don't stop, just grab a bottle of water from someone at the side of the road (while riding at 20), pour the water into the bidon, chuck the empty mineral bottle back into the feed station and go, go, go. The rain starts again. I don't want to stop and lose the group in this headwind so I drift to the side of the road and put the jacket on while riding. Several other riders are doing the same. I'd not normally do this is the middle of a strange bunch but everyone seems to know how to ride a bike. Amazing. Then we hit the Aspin. I remember reading a report in Cycling Weekly about the Raid Pyreneen which said that the Aspin wasn't too bad, and so it seems. It's not that steep and I keep a nice rhythm going on 39x23, with the odd spot on the 26. 9, 10 mph. Quick pee stop halfway up, but it's still a long climb and it takes a long, long time to climb when you're going that slow. Later in the ride I'm going to look back at this and wonder how I went so fast...... The view from the Aspin is obscured by all the low mist, but it's still stunningly beautiful. We pass a high meadow full of grasing cows, each with a bell on. Too sterotyped to be true but increadably bueatiful. We're about 45 miles in now and already people are suffering. I see one person walking. Hope he isn't planning on walking the rest of the way. There's another feed station on top of the Aspin. This time I stop briefly and grab a few energy bars and some energy gels. I'm already sick of energy bars, but force myself to keep eating becuase I know I'm going to need it. Then it's on with the cape and down. I'm soaked to the skin, but fortunately only the top of the descent is wet. Later riders found it wet all the way down. I feel the back wheel wash out on a couple of corners near the top so take it easy, but then as we descend and get onto dry roads I take the brakes off. Amazing how many slow people there are in the way when you do that [:)] I'm just starting to feel really smug when there's another sonic boom on my left and four French exocets shoot past going a good 10mph faster. And I'm doing about 45. Sprint, sprint, sprint and I'm on their wheels. And now we're moving. Round the hairpins and away. It's worth doing all that climbing for what must have been 20 minutes of descent. Amazing. If you knew the road this would be a really fast descent in a small group - it's not very twisty, but has enough bends in it to keep life interesting. Now we are into the mountains proper and there's no break before the Tourmalet, just though a village. This is a real ego boost. It looks like the entire village is out cheering us on. It's suddenly come sunny and warm, people are out playing instruments, drinking beer and generally having a good time. Life is good. I look at by computer again. At the base of the Aspin I had a 20.5 mph average speed, now I have a 19.5mph average and I've only stopped for about 5 minutes. 50+ miles done and it's all looking good. Little do I know. There's that slight twitch from the latic acid in my legs though... The Tourmalet is a nasty hill. It starts every so easy. Cheered on by the crowds we're doing 14-15mph up the easy first few k's. Which might sound impressive but they only average 3% or something. And I'm working far too hard for my own good. And then it starts. The sign says 15k to go, next k at 10% average. I grind instantly into 39x26. Then I realise that someone has removed my legs and taken all the energy from by body. I'm down to a steady 7 mph and suffering. Next year I'm taking a triple. I'm not a big gear grinder by nature so the cadence is feeling a little on the slow side. Nothing too drastic yet though. And it goes on. Next k at 9.5%, at 10%, at 9%, at 8% (yes!) at 10%. I get off and sit by the side of the road, stuffing an energy bar down me. I know there is a feed station just before the ski station at La Monge about 5k from the top. I also remember being told that once you get past there "it's all much easier". Back on the bike and now I'm just trying to get to the feed station. The speed is dropping all the time and the gradient just seems to never let up. 9%, 9.5%, 8%, 9%, 10%...... Through the tunnels and I'm down to 6.5 mph and just trying to keep the pedals turning, but the feed station is coming in sight. Funnily enough, I'm not the only one suffering. The fit lads from the fast group I started the climb with have disappeared off, and all around me is complete slience broken by groans and gasps. There's not even the sound of changing gears. Everone is already in bottom gear. Those with triples are just turning their legs round a little faster. Finally I get to the food station, dump the bike and just sit on the ground in a heap. I've still got enough wits to pull my jacket on to keep the wind off. All around me there's people who look like they've lost the plot. Sitting in silence with their head between their knees. I of course must look fresh as a daisy. Or something.... 10 minutes later and I feel a little better. Not good, but better, and the summit isn't going to get any near while I'm sat here. And anyway, I was told that it was easier after here. Easier? My arse. Into the village the road goes really steep. I'm out of the saddle and trying to keep a rhythm going. Once out the village I can see the top. This is bad. It looks an awfully long way away, it looks awfully steep, all the cyclists ahead of me are moving awfully slowly. Generally I just feel awfull. I'm in trance mode now, just turning the pedals. I know that if I stop I'll be toast, so I just keep plodding on. And on. And on. The summit seems to creep closer, the burn in by legs just gets worse. I eat another gel sachet while riding. I've never used them before, but they're free and it does seem to help. Finally, the top. The air really does feel thin, and it's bitterly cold, but at least it's not raining. Again, later riders have it much harder since they got to the top in driving cold rain. There's helpers at the top of the climb but I just want to get down and get warm. I shove the jacket on, take the brakes off and go. After a few k of descent I start to feel optimistic again. I've done the Tourmelet, there's only one climb to go, it's in the bag. I'm decending well (amazing thing for making you feel fit, gravity) and I know that there's nothing much between the base of the Tourmelet and the last climb. Which I seem to remember is only 6k or so. Sorted. Down and away. Into the village of Ardiden I start to pedal again. And cramp up. My legs obviously didn't like all that free-wheeling. I pedal though the cramp and it easies as the legs remember what they are ment to do. I eat another energy bar. I'm really, really sick of the things now, but it's necessary. And then we swing onto the last climb. Yes! Sorted. Then I see the first sign. Liz Ardien, 15k, next k @ 7%. Ah. So not 6k then. I can see how this is going to go so drop back onto the 26 and prepare to grind up. The weather is now clouding over again and the wind is getting up, but the first few k are though the forested lower slopes so there's some shelter. This climb is hard though. It's just relentlessly steep. The fact that I have no energy obviously contibutes to this feeling, but as each k sign goes pasts it never drops below 8% with lots of 8.5 and 9% sections. I collapse off the bike and sit on a wall. After a few minutes I feel good enough to eat an energy bar. Only 10k to go. Not even out of the woods yet... "Go on Clifton!" Someone is shouting me on (I'm in club gear, so it's not that great a deduction to work out who I ride for). So, back on the bike and away. And now I've gone well beyond purgatory and am into the outer circles. The road is steep, steep. I've got now energy and I'm down to 5.5mph on 39x26. Which is a cadence of about 45 rpm. I'm sure I can feel my knees creaking as I climb. Still, at least I'm a) on the bike and b) still have the front wheel pointed up the climb. Which is more than can be said for many other people. Even at 5.5 mph I'm pretty much climbing at the same rate as everyone else. And there's now quite a few people walking. Only 8k to go.... I stop again. My knees need a break. Another energy bar. That's the last one, so on again. 7k to go, 6k to go. I'm out of the forest and can see the top. It's a **** of a long way up. I stop again. I have to tell myself that the summit won't get any closer while I'm stopped. The only thing that stops me walking is that I don't want to trash my new carbon race shoes. Now we've out of the forest the wind starts to pick up and it's getting cold and starting to drizzle. 5k to go. 3k. Now there are barriers in the middle of the road to separate out the riders heading for the descent route from those going up. I hang onto one for a few minutes and then carry on. Now it's just started to pour with rain. I haven't got my cape on but now that if I stop now I'll never get going again and I'm not going anywhere near fast enough to put the cape on while riding..... 2k to go. I grab a barrier again and take 5. Then push off. Now we turn into the wind. The rain is being driven into our faces. The gradient has easied for a moment but I'm out of the saddle and trying to drive the bike forward. I'm starting to shiver now and the wind goes straight though my sodden clothes. 1k to go. I just seem to be getting slower and slower but nothing is going to stop be now. 500 meters to go and what should be easy is made increadably hard by the wind. Again, out of the saddle, and really working. Finally under the banner and over the transponder mat. Someone on the other side grabs the transponer off my ankle. Then looks at me, holds up two fingers and says "How many fingers am I holding up". Guess I had a bit of a thousand yard stare. The top of the climb is a cold, exposed ski-station. Just as I get though there's a massive gust of wind that knocks all the barriers down (and a couple of cyclists) so it's time to go. I exchange my finishing token for a bag of food - a ham roll, some energy bars and some soft drinks. I wolf the roll, put one of the cans of drink (a "hypotonic, after exercise, post whatever" one) in a jersey pocket and start down. I've got my cape on down and the wind behind, but I'm so cold that operating the brakes is tricky for the first section. This is a slow section where the road is divided into two between those going up and those going down. The barriers I'd clung onto on the way up have all been knocked over by the wind and need to be avoided as well. Everyone coming up looks completly wasted. Finally I get to the turn off for the escape route. It's a nasty descent. Wet, slippy, narrow, sharp bends and covered in gravel. Just like home. I can do this and I'm just thinking about the warmth at the bottom. Clearly lots of people are having problems since most people are descending really, really slowly. I just want to get warm and crack on. Finally back in Luz I find the Baxter's coach and can finally put some warm dry clothes on. A beer, a tea, a hot chocolate, a pain chocolate, a croque mosieuer, a crepe and some more beer later and I'm already thinking about next year..... Some stats: The ride was 90 miles and I took 7 hours and 8 minutes. Average speed of 20kph including all stops. Including the ride to the start and back to the coach at the end I had 113 miles on the day. I ate about 10 bars, two bananas (before the start) and a couple of sachets of energy gels. I used my race bike with a 39/52, 13/26 gears. Next year I'd use the same bike but go with 30/40/50, 13-23 instead. Or maybe 13-26 if it's in the Pyrenees again. I'd like to say that next year I'll be sensible and not set off like a bat out of hell before blowing in the last part, but that seems unlikely, so I guess I'll just have to be fitter. I knew in advance that the ride was going to be hard - I just didn't know that it was going to be *that* hard. It's impossible to really train for climbs like that in the UK. So next year, I think it's going to have to be a three week holiday so that I can really bang the miles in in the hills beforehand. Maybe ride out........ |