It tears at your soul and leaves a stain upon your heart

Bikes can get surprisingly dirty. It's only when you take some of their components apart, like pedals, wheels, saddle, bars, bags, that type of thing, you realise how much grime gets into the nooks and crannies of your frame.

That's what I discovered tonight anyway. I had to dismantle the bike, to get it into the box to get it on the plane back from Toulouse, the airport, 120km from Bertren in Haute-Garonne, the foothills of the Pyrenees. Where Bunny and I went cycling last weekend.

Halfway through Day One, as we cowered in the shelter of a dodgy bus shelter on a fairly main road, already soaked to the skin, and hoping that the rain would just stop for five minutes till we turned onto a back road, that's where we accumulated most of the grime. It would be easy to get disillusioned at that point. We'd been going for some hours and covered a fair amount of ground, two mountain passes, Col de Mente and Portet d'Aspet. And we'd met some local tramps with their hungry dogs, and passed the site of Luis Ocana's "Tragedie dans le Tour de France" in 1971.

Nice and paved now with the grit and gravel not much in evidence. In fact, despite all the rain, the roads were a joy to be on, not potholes, barely any stones, and even a cheery "courage" from the road makers on the Mente. You wouldn't get that on Winscombe Hill, never mind a 6km climb at 8%.

Just after we stopped riding for the day, with all our clothes stinking and drying in the yard of our lodgings, the sun came out. We are truly badass, for riding close to 8 hours in the wet, over some gorgeous scenery, and pretty villages. Charlie was not reliable so I have had to put the routes together retrospectively, but they are accurate:

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/674931

So five cols (even the minor ones are harder than most things in the UK, so I'm counting them), the two big ones mentioned above and Larrieu, Buret and des Ares, together with about 86 miles, made for a solid first day.

Saturday was brutal and beautiful all at the same time. One of the most delightful mountains it has been my pleasure to ride up, Port de Bales, followed by pizza in Luchon, and then Superbagneres, no "i". Did you ever watch Goldfinger? Then you will remember the scene where he's driving his DB5 over the switchbacks on the mountain road. That is like Superb, a brute of a climb, with virtually no hiding place. Col de Bales on the other hand was idyllic, peaceful, wonderful views and also long and tough, and only the best is good enough.

As you can see I was wearing my fab new HTC outfit, and Bunny was pretending to be some french bloke. In relative terms I was Cavendish to his Voeckler I think, only Cav is considerably faster than us both up mountains.

It's a different type of cycling, this mountain business. I think it helps if the scenery is gorgeous, and the road is tranquil, but I have to find a rhythm I can sustain for 90-120 minutes, keep breathing and just enjoy it for what it is. I even started to let go a bit on the descents, although Bunny was considerably less cautious than me.

Once back down from Super B, we abandoned any further thought of more mountains, and high-tailed the 18 miles back down the valley road to Bertren. Only something had happened to Bunny, he kept falling off the back and was feeling very cold and fragile. Not enough food! So just for once I did him a favour and he sat behind me for most of the way back down the road. Another 70 miles in the bag, and some respectable climbing given we had two HC climbs that day.

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/674945

Next morning Bunny was as bright as a button, whilst I was feeling a bit crevee, so he towed me for much of the day. We started with a flattish 40km to Arreau, then climbed another beautiful col, the Hourquette d'Ancizan, before descending to the base of the Aspin. From Payolle, it's only 5km (at around 7%) to the top.  Down the Aspin to Arreau, late lunch and back the way we came.

It was also very hot and sunny, and we were rewarded with some stunning views from the top of both passes, all the way to the Tourmalet in one direction, and all the way to the Peyresourde in the other. Neither of which were we tempted to climb.

Charlie was working and recorded it in two stages:

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/373951


http://ridewithgps.com/trips/373950

I think we ended up doing 80 miles on Day 3, so around about 238 for the weekend. The maps say 29k of climbing all told, but I'm suspicious, it was probably less. But even though we had planned to do more climbing, I think we acquitted ourselves well enough, and stayed on the right side of the enjoyment/brutal side of things.

Read Bunny's account here:

http://monmarduman.blogspot.com/

The Hourquette was a real treat too, very quiet, twisty, with some shade and also great views of the valleys below, and cliff-side roads that made for a wonderful climb. But the Bales was my favourite climb of the trip. It had that quiet air of serenity, whilst still being long enough and tough enough to make it a challenge. SuperB was not my cup of tea, just a bit too manufactured, and being an "up and back" to a ski station, it's impossible to make a loop out of it. I'm never going to like that.

 The Aspin descent back to Luchon was a highlight too. Last time we did it, it was pouring with rain, and in 12 kms we were bone-chillingly cold, despite full winter gear. This time the warm and dry made for a thrilling ride down, and I did my best to restrict my braking. It was fun.

Our hosts for the trip were PyrActif, and were totally superb. Great food, lovely accommodation, and above all, knowledgeable and friendly, without being all over us. Check out their site if you are considering a cycling holiday in the Pyrenees, they were pretty close to perfect for what we wanted.

http://www.pyractif.com/

So now I'm back, and life is, well life. The mountains are a different world really. I know I'll never be a great climber or descender, but I love cycling up them mainly for the challenge, the beauty, the tranquility, and the solitude that comes from a single point of focus; just keep turning the pedals. And like Miley says, "it's not about how fast I get there....."

Because I always do. In the end.

I'm here but I'm really gone

Compared to the mighty Tourmalet, every ride in Britain is minuscule. So you have to dig deep, and focus on the ascent. I'm barely ready for Thursday, no edit that, I've not even started to be ready. Although I did test out my new saddle and bar bags today. Not quite Audax proportions but heading in that direction. However, sometimes you have to compromise on beauty and authenticity, just to have a small modicum of practicality.

http://www.thecyclingmayor.com/?m=201108
Skip has done a great blog as usual, but I wanted to compare cycling to the best philosophy on the planet. Bar none.


The truth of suffering

Riding, true riding, like life is suffering. If it isn't you are just not trying hard enough. Do you want to play small and cycle on old railway lines all your life, and say it's the right thing for you? Dress it up how you like.

The truth of the cause of suffering

Obviously not training hard enough, or worse, not having a road bike and lycra. We passed lots of people on bikes today, and some of them were actually smiling!!!!! But they were not cyclists, they were "leisure riders". Cycle fascism? Maybe. But you know I'm right. At least MTB are really pushing themselves, but the rest of you? Electric motors on a bike? Who are you trying to kid?

The cause of all proper suffering is attachment to the idea that cycling is easy. It isn't, nor should it be. Faster remember?

The truth of the cessation of suffering

When you let go of the idea that you are invulnerable, and that you must continue to be vulnerable to be human, despite those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers, (sorry wrong genre), when you know that hill will hurt, when you know you will crash one day, when you know and look forward to the idea that you will be cold, hot, wet, dirty, and long for more of it, then suffering is at an end.

Freedom from suffering

Is only possible by following the eightfold noble path:

Ultegra
SL cleats
Bib shorts
Jawbones
Compacts
Carbon
23
Friends

Yes friends are everything in this as in all things. Know who they are, give all that you can to them (including your special pound coin so that they can have a cup of coffee because the cafe doesn't take cards. Share the hurt, the detachment and the truth of it all, and go back for more. Never, ever trust someone who doesn't know the contemporary music from their generation, it shows they have no soul. Likewise if someone keeps their food for themselves, when the others are struggling to get up a hill, what does it say about them? When I put my hand in my pocket, take out a gel or a bar, I hope I'll offer it to someone else first, before troughing it myself.

I woke early this morning, my mind full of my life's crap. But safe in the knowledge of my family, and the truth of today's ride, next weekend's rides, the sportives where people have offered me their wheel, wanting nothing in return, knowing I would do the same for them. See vulnerability, and you have a choice, be the Cannibal (who let's face it, didn't really end up all that well did he?) or be a friend.

So know who your friends are, who will drop you when the gradient goes above 8%, and who will give you a tow. And yes in case you are wondering, I think Skip did most of the work today. She says she was tired, but it didn't show, she was like a coiled spring right from the off.

Charlie malfunctioned unfortunately (don't worry Endurotorq, he'll be fine by Friday), so here is today's route:
http://ridewithgps.com/users/30887
 
And apropos of nothing, don't trust anyone who says that the riots are anything other than a very complex phenomenon, with deep and multiple cultural and societal causes. Anyone that says different is either a politician, stupid or a Daily Mail reader. Although I accept that these groups are highly similar.

Light my way

This is just a short post, for my commute to work and back today. In the two years I've been riding into Bristol I have never had a more beautiful bike ride into town as I had this morning. With the nights finishing later I leave on the cusp of morning. Today dawn was slow and gradual and a gorgeous ultraviolet colour pervaded the sky, slowly driven out by reds, oranges and eventually blue.

As I rode up each ridge I looked down into the valley below, to see wisps of mist, like cotton wool, drifting on the slight breeze. Few cars were about, and I just had to do Belmont Hill too, it was that sort of a morning.

I reversed the route on the way home, added Brockley Coombe and tried to avoid the madmen on the A38. The traffic was rammed for some reason, a complete contrast to the morning. A few more hills on Sunday, gentle ride on Tuesday and then it's allons-y, mes braves, France here we come!

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/107778715

My heart is where it's always been

Mid-week exercise usually consists of just over an hour of tediously sitting on an exercise bike, staring at my garden. Which is just starting to look like a garden again after a prolonged period of resembling part of the rain forest. Not my doing, well not directly anyway. In terms of jungle, it's even better than the real thing because there are no venomous snakes or poisonous spiders. As far as i know.

I digress. Today, for long and complicated reasons I got to cycle in the fresh air. Mini Mendip Rouleur and I were home by 6.45, and after quickly making his tea, complaining to the bank, and changing into a rather fetching old K-1 kit, nicely clashing with my new gilet, I was off into the late evening sunshine. By 7PM. And don't worry, there was an adult to look after mini MR.

I had intended to do the Tour of Winscombe six times (my 3.5 mile loop of the village), for a bit of hill repeats, figuring I could just about squeeze that in before the 8.30 sunset. In the end I thought, "sod that, let's do a proper route". So I cycled up to Shipham, down to Cheddar and up to the base of the gorge. Where i encountered "Police- Road closed" signs. Which I ignored, as had loads of other people by the look of it as plenty of cars, walkers, climbers and cyclists were also about. I passed a police car and occupants, and they seemed unperturbed by my presence, so onwards and upwards i went.

At the base of the really steep section there was a Rapha Condor Sharp team car, replete with cycle rack for 6 (?) bikes on the roof, but no bikes. It was predictably black with a white stripe and a pink one. Chic. My guess that someone was doing a reconnaissance mission for the Tour of Britain, which is going up the gorge on 16th September. I am planning an outing to the event, Gorge-Old Bristol Hill-Wells, see them 3 times, but don't hang about, they are fast these boys.

As was the rider wearing Saxo Bank kit who chatted to me for a bit before zooming off in the distance. He's from Axbridge, but it seems that the ACG would be a bit slow for him, I'm still trying to sell that top.

Coming down the gorge at speed was a cyclist in Motorpoint pro-cycling kit. He looked fast enough to be a pro, maybe he was connected to Rapha, I don't know the ins and outs of the British cycling team well enough.

Once up in the land of the Mendips it was a quick belt across the top and down Burrington, Langford, Sandford, Banwell and home up the Alpe d'Huez of Winscombe. Just over 25 miles, a couple of decent climbs, and some nice fresh air on a pleasant night, arriving home in the gathering gloom.

And West Ham won, AGAIN!!! Shock horror two away wins on the bounce. That doesn't happen every day. And the much-maligned (by me) Scott Parker is still there. What will happen next?

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/357598

Take you where you want

I didn't really want to go to Glastonbury today. So it should come as no surprise that's where we ended up. To paraphrase a colleague, it's when the laws of attraction go bad.

Axbridge Cycling Group, four of us in the square, passable weather, which did go according to forecast to be fair, and being sociable, and wanting to avoid all the tourist hotspots, and some of us wanting to avoid the hills, we did at least contrive a route that was different to the usual out and back.

And it was fun, at times like Noah's Ark- two by two, at times like a train (we were certainly moving like one, quite quick by jove we were and no mistake, I'm sure), but above all, a Group. (until Knight of the Realm fell off the back in the home straight).

And lots of other organised events too, a sportive (Wiggle Mendip), a leisure ride based on the Strawberry Line, but with numbers on their bikes that were the side of a house, and also what could have been a triathlon. Why? Because of the huge number of them with those terrible long socks on. It can't make a difference and is just so wrong.

It was great to be out with the ACG again, with a new face (for me at least), I'm tempted to call him Shearer, as he's from Sunderland, but I don't want to upset him, so I'll find out who is idol is. And the prodigal son, the lost sheep, Knight, busy in his shop, so busy that he's having to go to Malaysia again and get more stock, great to see him again.

The world would be a better place if everyone understood the visceral meaning of those Bible stories, lost sheep, prodigal sons, Noah's Ark. One of my favourite quotes:

"After the flood, all the colours came out"

Sometimes you have to just feel things, and today was one of those. You can't know what it is like to have four of you fly along in the sun, outdoors, on the road, with no noise but the swoosh of your tyres. With the wind at your back, the levels spread out in front of you and Glastonbury rising up in the distance. You can't know cycling by thinking about it, like life, it has to be lived.

Here's a live performance that captures it, watch for the second chorus ;-)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSZv9KKf0g0

And it was a Beautiful Day, thanks ACG.

Here's Charlie:

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/354146

Packing a suitcase for a place, none of us has been

Compare and contrast. That's what the exam papers always said in my day, usually several times, but unfailingly in history tests. Compare and contrast the siege of Leningrad with Napoleon's march on Moscow. Compare and contrast Hitler's approach in 1940 with Alexander's march on Babylon. Compare and contrast the response of Lloyd George, Clemenceau and Wilson with that of the Attlee, Truman and Stalin after the respective world wars.

We don't learn primarily from answers, knowledge or theories. Insight and wisdom is forged in the white heat of questions and experience, in the journey and on the road, not the office or the classroom.

"No matter how one may think himself accomplished, when he sets out to learn a new language, science, or the bicycle, he has entered a new realm as truly as if he were a child newly born into the world." ~Frances Willard, How I Learned to Ride the Bicycle.

I have a momentous decision to make, which will shape  much. I must choose between the new, sexy, fast and sleek, and the honest, quirky, steady and practical. The tortoise and the hare, and we all know how that turned out. Yes, I must choose which bike to take to the Pyrenees with me. And you thought this was going to be an allegory?

You can't just walk on to a plane these days especially with a bike. It all has to be deconstructed and re-assembled at the other end, out of its hard black box. K-1 is in for a service so today I was on the Red Madone, doing a few hills into and back from work. And it was lovely, fast and fizzy, light on the ups, sticky round the corners. But I know my back is going to ache for it tomorrow in the car, I have a fair bit of driving to do in the day.

In any case, just as the wand chooses the wizard, the bike chooses the rider. Maybe.

K-1, equipped with new brakes, maybe a headset, bottom bracket, retains its basic character plus added improvements, well it seems the more attractive option at the moment. If he will have me that is, for he must be ready by Thursday next week, so I can do a test drive into work on Friday. So the choice is not entirely in my hands, but in those of a more skilled operator than that.

Just as I have never seen any problem made better by alcohol, I have never seen any situation not made better by the arrival of balloons. So as I descended from my second hill of the morning, from up above Ashton Court to the Cumberland basin area, it was a wonderful sight to see everyone looking up at the morning's flight from the fiesta.

"You could have flown away, a singing bird in an open cage"

The wind was pushing them right over the city, and everyone was looking up and smiling, kids pointing, old blokes chuckling and even hard-bitten business types were at their office windows and taking pictures with their mobile phones. Not the greatest picture in the world, but you get the idea. So ask yourself this question: compare and contrast the impact of balloons and alcoholic beverages in their contribution to the happiness of mankind.

The weather was warm and drizzly to start, but it dried off as I got into Bristol, and on the way home the sun came out just as I was coming down Dundry Hill into Winford. That doesn't happen every day.


Once in work I was faced with another choice. I got a load of free zipvit samples at the Eddy Merckx sportive so I took a couple with me. Compare and contrast the effectiveness as recovery food of a chewy zipvit bar with a bacon sandwich, in the modern workplace. No contest, the pig may be a filthy animal, it does not have character, but it sure tastes good.

The banana gel on the other hand is lovely, and came at the point where I was contemplating concluding my ride home via Sandford rather than Rowberrow, Shipham and Cheddar. Compare and contrast the training value of an extra 500 feet of climbing and a flat fight into the wind. Got to be the hill really, which created a nice dumbbell shape on the route profile:


http://ridewithgps.com/trips/352235

http://connect.garmin.com/player/105982574

Which just leaves me with the most profound question of all. Compare and contrast the features and benefits of Garmin Connect and Ride with GPS for illustrating your rides. That one, I'll leave you with.

I can go there

You have to dig deep into the heart of yourself to survive 70 minutes of mental torture. Yesterday Bunny did a ridiculous run up some muddy hills near his home in Macclesfield:

http://monmarduman.blogspot.com/

Sounds horrific to me, but as I'm frequently saying, chacun a son gout, vraiment mes amies. But whilst my challenge was much less physically demanding, I would contend that my challenge today was the more horrific psychologically.

I had vague plans, Cardiff City at home, now as it turns out that would have been worse, but fortunately number one son changed his mind and we depressed ourselves in front of the TV. More vague plans to ride for the third consecutive day, were thwarted by a mixture of my own torpor, and some very heavy and frequent showers.

I have a short circuit of the village that I do on days like today, it's about 3.5 miles long, and involves a nice mix of flat, descent and climbing. I'll normally spend an hour or so doing 4-5 circuits, but I really didn't want to wash my bike for the sake of an hours riding.

Nothing for it but to get the ipod out and sit on this for 70 minutes:

Since this photo was taken the bike has been upgraded. The handlebars have been turned upside down, to attempt a position more similar to a road bike, and of course I have fitted reversible flat/SPD pedals from an old mtb. But it's still tedious, but with three weeks to go, options for fitness improvement and retaining a clean bike are few and far between.

I'd love to describe the 70 minutes in detail, with nuances and interesting anecdotes. But I can't. It's dull, you get on, you pedal, sometimes like today according to a pre-determined programme, sometimes not. You stop. Music makes it just tolerable.

I used to have a turbo trainer but as my training is fairly disorganised, or flexible and spontaneous depending on your point of view, I found that even more tedious. So the exercise bike will have to do for those lazy, rainy, Sunday afternoons. Perhaps those are the days you find out more about yourself than belting up the Tourmalet. Perhaps not.

Just give me what I want and no-one gets hurt

I'm not built for cycling, which given that it's become my main hobby is a bit of a problem. For a start my build is neither fish nor fowl, neither sprinter nor climber. And until hypnotherapy sorted it out, I used to suffer from vertigo, which made going down mountainous roads a bit of a problem.

So today, despite the weatherpeople's failure to get it right again, or maybe because of the rain, I decided to go and look for some ups to pedal and some downs to descend. And the Red Madone got an outing today, albeit with some old wheels that have 23mm tyres, important given the unexpected rain.

Before doing that I dropped K-1 at my local bike store in Cheddar:

http://www.cheddarcyclestore.co.uk/

The owner and former racing cyclist, I call him leadman, (think plumbum, and yes plumbers are called that for a similar reason, it's to do with pipes) has the strongest thumbs I have ever seen in my life, can get tyres off tight rims with one flick of the digit, where I'm trying to use ten tyre levers. Anyway, I'm getting some Ultegra calipers put on, as well as the full once over on various bits and bobs. Have I mentioned where I'm going at August bank holiday?

The ride? Well, as Cheddar gorge is dangerous descending country at this time of year, with all the tourists milling about waiting to get run over, I decided it was time to go up it. Followed by a little loop on the top of the Mendips, coming out near that strange castle-like house on the road that leads to Burrington.

Just as I was getting near the said house I became aware of a horrible wailing noise being projected into the quiet countryside by an PA system. I wasn't sure what it was, but guessed it was some kind of a music festival, although it seemed a strange place to have it. I later found this:

http://www.cloudcuckooland.org/cloud-cuckoo-land/a-festival-in-transition/

The best bit is the cycle ride that two blokes are doing in aid of a campaign to build sustainability in all things etc. They are riding from Camden to Cape Town, not London mind, Camden. I have to say I like all this stuff. I know it's very worthy and all that. What I like about it most is that it reminds me there are other people more earnest and preachy than me in the world, and that has to be good for me. I have spent quite a bit of time on a very high horse this week, so to find equine towers of immense stature, in very unusual places, is magnificent.

From there I headed down Burrington Coombe again, then up to Blagdon, across the dam and up to Butcombe, Row of Ashes and down to Wrington. There was just time to hit Rowberrow and Shipham again before coming home via Sidcot and the Alpe d'Huez of Winscombe. Not a long ride, but a good dose of climbing.

And I wore the Devon jersey in the end, and given I had two SMIDSY incidents I'd say I was right on the blending in front. Mind you the traffic was very heavy for a Saturday, the M5 was chock a block, so lots of people darting down roads they don't know, impatiently trying to get to the seaside. The positive thing is the pockets on the jersey are huge, so it may have to go to France after all, hopefully the more tolerant and careful driving over there will keep me alive.

http://ridewithgps.com/trips/344153

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/104493361

One week he's in polka dots, the next week he's in stripes

I'm trying out cycling tops. My own I should add. What for? Well, it's a long and tedious story, but the nub of it is to find those shirts that have the biggest pockets (because I'll be carrying all my own layers) and yet still retain some element of bling. Now I know this is all relative, lycra doesn't lend itself to high, or even street, fashion. But when I'm cycling in the Pyrenees in three weeks time, I don't want the locals pelting me with rotten onions because I am making their beautiful roads and cols look disgusting by wearing poorly colour-co-ordinated kit, or worse, something out of the 80s.

Now I know he is Britain's best Tour finisher, but look at that top. It looks like something out of an American cartoon, not fit to grace the body of a legend. To be fair, he did wear a natty polka-dot jersey, so all is not lost.

Of course, not being a dedicated follower of fashion, or as we saw last week, cycling etiquette, I too broke one of the cycling rules today and opted for my very own polka dot jersey. This one from the slightly less glamorous Tour of Britain 2009. I know I haven't actually won a polka dot jersey or King of the Mountains competition in the Tour of Britain 2009, or any other race. But the jersey was my incentive to train for the Raid Pyrenean last year, and it also has very big pockets indeed, so it's on the plane.

Thomas de Gendt is the man wearing my shirt, next to Edvald B-H, now the official King of Norway, having taken over from Thor Hushovd last week.

To derive a sense of irony from today, and also because I was still feeling a bit tired, I decided to cycle in the flat way for a change. When I first started commuting it was my regular route, but I've hardly done it of late. To live up to the jersey, I did do a few hills on the way home, Dundry the hard way, the Chew Valley road, as well as the tough hill out of Blagdon, and finally Rowberrow. So at least I didn't disgrace myself, and with a total of just over 50 miles for the day, it was a fair workout too.

I wonder what I can try out tomorrow, the Devon jersey maybe, but being largely green it has a tendency to blend in with  hedgerows. Maybe I'll have gentle ride to the coast in my Foska England top, or maybe it's time to get the Northwave skeleton out again. So hard to make decisions, I just don't know what to wear.


http://ridewithgps.com/trips/342656