Do you want a nail-biting suspense of a thriller? Will he make it on time? Or are there last minute mechanical or punctures or accidents that are just going to take it down to that metaphorical wire?
No point really is there? Of course we made it. I was so pumped up on adrenaline by the time I left at 8AM on Saturday morning that I would have carried my bike there if I had to. The road was now out of the mountains, and although there were two nominal cols-St. Pierre (185m)and Ternere (200m)- I'm not sure which of the bumps we went over were them. For the most part it was a long gentle descent to the coast of the Med, before turning south along a busy Saturday cliff-top road, and enjoying the sunshine.
Although Bunny and I started off with a fellow raider, doing through and off, we both wanted to enjoy ourselves, and eschewed the "opportunity" to join the main peleton. It was archetypal French countryside, tree-lined roads, people playing boules, and lots and lots of beret-wearing shruggers with onion strings. Yes I made the last bit up, but you get the gist.
Despite our attempt at a dawdle, it was always my intention to get there reasonably quickly, so after a little over three and a quarter hours (Ave speed 17.6mph for the 58 miles), we were being given a glass of champagne, having photos in the sea, buying the commemorative cycling top, and most importantly, getting that carnet stamped.
Here is Charlie for the last day and a half:
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/48735018
What a trip. Very hard, much harder than I thought it would be, and funnily enough it was the descents that I found hardest. Something to practice on going down Dundry Hill this winter perhaps!
If you are wondering whether to do it, don't hesitate, life is too short not to have a go. Marmot were great, delivered excellent support in all the right places, and made sure we were OK without mothering us to death.
Now, what about 2011........
Thursday, 16 September 2010
The most beautifu cycling experience ever
Friday morning in Massat dawned misty and a bit chilly. We were reasonably high up already but were about to get even higher with the Col de Port (1245m) rising straight up from the town (with the intermediate col Caugnous (940m)). I opted for a huge mug of hot chocolate and some plain bread for breakfast, hoping this would help with the early morning queasiness. Which it did which was nice.
Not only that but bunny and I were first away, the town was still in its slumbers and we started what is the most gorgeous climb (no that is quite definitely not an oxymoron) in the world. It makes my spine tingle to think about it now, nearly a week later. In the 12km of the climb I saw a maximum of three cars, and the gentle average 5% gradient, never got above 6%, with a lot in the 3% range. The road swung back and forth through wooded glades, with the mist falling away, collected in the hollow below us. Bunny went up the road, and I revelled in the solitude, the occasional tinkling of cow bells only serving to reinforce the beauty of this magical place.
Occasionally a break in the trees would offer glimpses of far-away jagged peaks of rock, some still bearing the remnants of snow and ice, or perhaps the first falls of an early onset of Autumn. Do you believe in God? It's a thought that goes through my head at times like these, such peace and grace couldn't just have happened by accident could it?
I was also on form, partly as a result of the setting, partly, and increasingly towards the top, propelled onwards by another call of nature as the huge bowl of hot chocolate worked its magic. Alas the climb was over all too soon, and because some of the others had passed me on the way up, there was reception party admiring the stunning views at the top.
If there is a cycling heaven, for me it will be to do that climb, at that time of day, with that weather, that stillness and beauty, for ever and ever, Amen.
Another descent beckoned, all the way to the outskirts of Tarascon, before an up and down bit of main road along a the Ariege valley floor to Ax-les-Thermes. It was now mid-morning and starting to get seriously hot, so we all stripped off any heavy stuff and loaded up with food and drink in preparation for the longest climb of the whole trip.
If the Tourmalet is a hammer on your head, then the col du Puymorens (1920m) is the steady drip, drip drip of water falling on your head. For over two hours and 27km. For the most part it has a shallow 3% gradient, and while this sometimes rises to 4-6%, it's mostly a case of plugging away at a steady speed. The scenery is still pretty wild and rugged, but the road is quite busy with the cars and lorries taking the road on their way to Andorra. Near the top they turn off in a different direction which made for a quieter time of it over the last few kms.
We all got out our ham baguettes (no really, that's not a euphemism) and had an impromtu picnic at the top, a bit blowy but again, good views. We also cheered the riders on their touring bikes, all laden with trailers or panniers, who had made it up from the other direction. We'd seen a few of those on the trip, hats off to them, I can't imagine doing the same.
I made the mistake of too many layers on the way down. Despite the long fall down to Bourg Madame, it was a baking hot day, so I decided to press on and hope to meet the support van soon. Mistake. There were three further cols to be climbed (Col de Llous-1345m, Col du Riget-1488m, Col de la Perche -1570m) with a corresponding dip between each. It was like cycling over a hot parched plain, and by now I had my own private sail, consisting of all my layers i had taken off. Which would have been great in a tailwind but unfortunately it was from in front that the wind was blowing.
Eventually got to the top of the last col and from there it was a breeze, over 25km down to Prades and our last hotel stop of the trip. Bunny and I had spotted the MacDonalds over the road, and much to Skip's text-delivered disgust, we couldn't resist and went to fill our faces.
I was a bit faster today at 12.6mph, over the 106 miles of another very long day. we made sure we got an early night, because for the first time on the trip, tomorrow there was time pressure. To qualify for our official Raid Pyrenean medal, we had to get our last carnet stamp in Cerebere by 1PM, and it was 90km away. No pressure then.
Not only that but bunny and I were first away, the town was still in its slumbers and we started what is the most gorgeous climb (no that is quite definitely not an oxymoron) in the world. It makes my spine tingle to think about it now, nearly a week later. In the 12km of the climb I saw a maximum of three cars, and the gentle average 5% gradient, never got above 6%, with a lot in the 3% range. The road swung back and forth through wooded glades, with the mist falling away, collected in the hollow below us. Bunny went up the road, and I revelled in the solitude, the occasional tinkling of cow bells only serving to reinforce the beauty of this magical place.
Occasionally a break in the trees would offer glimpses of far-away jagged peaks of rock, some still bearing the remnants of snow and ice, or perhaps the first falls of an early onset of Autumn. Do you believe in God? It's a thought that goes through my head at times like these, such peace and grace couldn't just have happened by accident could it?
I was also on form, partly as a result of the setting, partly, and increasingly towards the top, propelled onwards by another call of nature as the huge bowl of hot chocolate worked its magic. Alas the climb was over all too soon, and because some of the others had passed me on the way up, there was reception party admiring the stunning views at the top.
If there is a cycling heaven, for me it will be to do that climb, at that time of day, with that weather, that stillness and beauty, for ever and ever, Amen.
Another descent beckoned, all the way to the outskirts of Tarascon, before an up and down bit of main road along a the Ariege valley floor to Ax-les-Thermes. It was now mid-morning and starting to get seriously hot, so we all stripped off any heavy stuff and loaded up with food and drink in preparation for the longest climb of the whole trip.
If the Tourmalet is a hammer on your head, then the col du Puymorens (1920m) is the steady drip, drip drip of water falling on your head. For over two hours and 27km. For the most part it has a shallow 3% gradient, and while this sometimes rises to 4-6%, it's mostly a case of plugging away at a steady speed. The scenery is still pretty wild and rugged, but the road is quite busy with the cars and lorries taking the road on their way to Andorra. Near the top they turn off in a different direction which made for a quieter time of it over the last few kms.
We all got out our ham baguettes (no really, that's not a euphemism) and had an impromtu picnic at the top, a bit blowy but again, good views. We also cheered the riders on their touring bikes, all laden with trailers or panniers, who had made it up from the other direction. We'd seen a few of those on the trip, hats off to them, I can't imagine doing the same.
I made the mistake of too many layers on the way down. Despite the long fall down to Bourg Madame, it was a baking hot day, so I decided to press on and hope to meet the support van soon. Mistake. There were three further cols to be climbed (Col de Llous-1345m, Col du Riget-1488m, Col de la Perche -1570m) with a corresponding dip between each. It was like cycling over a hot parched plain, and by now I had my own private sail, consisting of all my layers i had taken off. Which would have been great in a tailwind but unfortunately it was from in front that the wind was blowing.
Eventually got to the top of the last col and from there it was a breeze, over 25km down to Prades and our last hotel stop of the trip. Bunny and I had spotted the MacDonalds over the road, and much to Skip's text-delivered disgust, we couldn't resist and went to fill our faces.
I was a bit faster today at 12.6mph, over the 106 miles of another very long day. we made sure we got an early night, because for the first time on the trip, tomorrow there was time pressure. To qualify for our official Raid Pyrenean medal, we had to get our last carnet stamp in Cerebere by 1PM, and it was 90km away. No pressure then.
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
Every cycling experience you can imagine in one day
On day 1 we had all been full of excitement, nerves and anticipation. On day 2 we had been fresh and enthusiastic enough to be tackle two mighty climbs and nearly 80 miles of cycling.
Today, Day 3, there was going to be as much ascent as Day 2, albeit split into more climbs, and almost as many miles as Day 1. (In case you are wondering what happened to Charlie's stats, well so am I. At the beginning of the trip I had downloaded the whole route onto him, and this worked a treat, I was able to plot my way through almost every day without needing to consult paper maps or directions. But at the end of the journey only half the data seems to have downloaded properly-half of day 4 and all of day 5 in full, and then various stats of all the days. So if you want to look at the routes on a map, my advice is to go to the links that posted before I went, around the beginning of September)
I was anything but fresh, having been awoken at 4AM by the nasty grumbling of my tummy. A visit to the proverbial confirmed it, and I had my suspicions about the duck we had been served at dinner the night before, and a couple of others later reported similar experiences. I tried to balance the need for food at breakfast with my digestive systems loud protests, and my mood was not helped when Alan had another go at fixing my stem/headset issues on the bike I had hired. For the technically-minded, there was no screw to attach the headset bits to the fork gubbins, so it rattled around a bit, which didn't help on the descents. But I'm still alive so it must have been OK.
We first re-traced our revs to St Marie de Campan, passing the site of the forge where a TdF leader of yore fixed his own forks after they snapped on the Tourmalet. From there we were straight onto the Col d'Aspin (1489m) in a damp, misty drizzle, which again was quite nice. The Aspin is a fairly gentle climb from the west at least for the first 19km, with only the final 5km hitting 7-8%. By the time we approached the top it was belting down and howling a gale, so we took shelter under a tarpaulin perched between two vans, and put on every article of clothing we had for the descent.
By the time I got to Arreau I was freezing, shaking from the cold and my hands were numb. I resisted the temptation to stop in favour of pushing on to the Peyresourde (1569m), a chance to warm up. I should have stopped for something to eat, because within a few km I got to see my breakfast all over again, and now I felt totally drained. I was the back marker too, and as I hit the last 6-7km of the 18km climb, and the gradient on Charlie started reading 9s and 8s, I wondered if I could reach the top.
The beautiful scenery helped, the peace and quiet too, and the knowledge that there is a cafe at the top selling the best crepes in the Pyrenees. Eventually I was there, warming and layering up, and preparing to hurtle down a dry road with wonderful switchbacks and forests all round, down to Luchon. Once there a slice of pizza was had and retained, full-fat coke slugged, and a peloton of four of us formed for a flat/downhill section to the base of the Col d'Arras (797m).
This was a great climb of about 8-9km, only 5% all the way up, and it was now delightfully sunny, with the added bonus of shade from the woods on the ascent. From the top it was down passing over a minor col-de Burat (602m)- which was just as well as next up was the Col de Portet d'Aspet. Everyone had been fearing this, but the initial 5km are very gentle, and the final 4km of between 9-14% are very similar to an English climb. We passed the monument to Fabio Cassertelli, the Italian cyclist killed on the descent in the 1995 Tour. A team-mate of the Texan, we speculated on whether Lance pays for the fresh flowers that are always there.
We then had a long descent down to St Girons, and after the steep bit, I seemed to come into my own. Having been the back-marker for most of the day, I had a new lease of life, and overtook half a dozen or so. Once into rush-hour St G, we formed up into a group, and I got drafting a nice big People carrier (old habits die hard). Quite quickly I seemed to be all on my own, so I though, OK, time for a lone breakaway.
Eventually I was caught, but not before I had enjoyed myself, and after a drag up a gentle incline for around 20km, we arrived at Massat, a hotel and a welcome warm bath. 108 miles at just over 12mph, it had been a long old day!
Today, Day 3, there was going to be as much ascent as Day 2, albeit split into more climbs, and almost as many miles as Day 1. (In case you are wondering what happened to Charlie's stats, well so am I. At the beginning of the trip I had downloaded the whole route onto him, and this worked a treat, I was able to plot my way through almost every day without needing to consult paper maps or directions. But at the end of the journey only half the data seems to have downloaded properly-half of day 4 and all of day 5 in full, and then various stats of all the days. So if you want to look at the routes on a map, my advice is to go to the links that posted before I went, around the beginning of September)
I was anything but fresh, having been awoken at 4AM by the nasty grumbling of my tummy. A visit to the proverbial confirmed it, and I had my suspicions about the duck we had been served at dinner the night before, and a couple of others later reported similar experiences. I tried to balance the need for food at breakfast with my digestive systems loud protests, and my mood was not helped when Alan had another go at fixing my stem/headset issues on the bike I had hired. For the technically-minded, there was no screw to attach the headset bits to the fork gubbins, so it rattled around a bit, which didn't help on the descents. But I'm still alive so it must have been OK.
We first re-traced our revs to St Marie de Campan, passing the site of the forge where a TdF leader of yore fixed his own forks after they snapped on the Tourmalet. From there we were straight onto the Col d'Aspin (1489m) in a damp, misty drizzle, which again was quite nice. The Aspin is a fairly gentle climb from the west at least for the first 19km, with only the final 5km hitting 7-8%. By the time we approached the top it was belting down and howling a gale, so we took shelter under a tarpaulin perched between two vans, and put on every article of clothing we had for the descent.
By the time I got to Arreau I was freezing, shaking from the cold and my hands were numb. I resisted the temptation to stop in favour of pushing on to the Peyresourde (1569m), a chance to warm up. I should have stopped for something to eat, because within a few km I got to see my breakfast all over again, and now I felt totally drained. I was the back marker too, and as I hit the last 6-7km of the 18km climb, and the gradient on Charlie started reading 9s and 8s, I wondered if I could reach the top.
The beautiful scenery helped, the peace and quiet too, and the knowledge that there is a cafe at the top selling the best crepes in the Pyrenees. Eventually I was there, warming and layering up, and preparing to hurtle down a dry road with wonderful switchbacks and forests all round, down to Luchon. Once there a slice of pizza was had and retained, full-fat coke slugged, and a peloton of four of us formed for a flat/downhill section to the base of the Col d'Arras (797m).
This was a great climb of about 8-9km, only 5% all the way up, and it was now delightfully sunny, with the added bonus of shade from the woods on the ascent. From the top it was down passing over a minor col-de Burat (602m)- which was just as well as next up was the Col de Portet d'Aspet. Everyone had been fearing this, but the initial 5km are very gentle, and the final 4km of between 9-14% are very similar to an English climb. We passed the monument to Fabio Cassertelli, the Italian cyclist killed on the descent in the 1995 Tour. A team-mate of the Texan, we speculated on whether Lance pays for the fresh flowers that are always there.
We then had a long descent down to St Girons, and after the steep bit, I seemed to come into my own. Having been the back-marker for most of the day, I had a new lease of life, and overtook half a dozen or so. Once into rush-hour St G, we formed up into a group, and I got drafting a nice big People carrier (old habits die hard). Quite quickly I seemed to be all on my own, so I though, OK, time for a lone breakaway.
Eventually I was caught, but not before I had enjoyed myself, and after a drag up a gentle incline for around 20km, we arrived at Massat, a hotel and a welcome warm bath. 108 miles at just over 12mph, it had been a long old day!
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
"We are cycling the Aubisque!!!"
About an hour after we left Arudy on the Wednesday morning, and about ten minutes after our wheels pointed seriously upwards, Bunny turned to me and uttered the immortal words above. After a long day yesterday, and a nice evening in a beautiful French town, followed by a bit of flattish riding up to the base of it, we were finally doing what we had come to do. We were cycling up an iconic mountain.
Nothing in England is like this. For a start the climbing lasts for about 16 km, that's about 9 miles I think. The gradient starts fairly easily in the 3-5% range, before tilting unremittingly upwards. The only way to cope with these types of climbs as an amateur is to find your own pace and stick to it. Get in a mental zone and spin away at a cadence you are comfortable with in a gear that does not tire your muscles. In my case this gear was always the bottom one, at least on the first few big climbs.
The weather was fairly damp and misty, which was actually ideal and the cooling effect made it quite nice, despite the ever increasing pitch of the road. There were constant switch backs, waterfalls, steep drops off the road into ravines, and it seemed that my hypnotherapy had worked as these drops failed to scare me. I'm also pleased to say we followed the one-way system in Eaux-Bonnes, thus ensuring we completed all the route, unlike some people who cut the corner. Perhaps they should be DNCs?
Soon after that Bunny got tired of my pace and decided he needed his own, which was fine by me. One of the things I really enjoyed about the trip was the chance to be on my own in such beautiful, uplifting places. I love mountains, walking them or climbing, and the Pyrenees are no exception. The lush and verdant landscape of the lower slopes soon gave way to more exposed moorland as I passed the ski village of Gourette, which was undergoing summer renovation. In honour of the first big climb, and at 1709m it's a high pass, I was wearing my King of the Mountains socks for the first time.
After about 90 minutes I was at the top, into the cafe and getting my carnet stamped. I quickly gulped down some hot chocolate, took a few photos and prepared myself for the descent. You can see it on Google street view, it is spectacular, with the road clinging to the edge of the rocky mountain, winding through a tunnel, before snaking upwards for 2km to the top of the Col du Souleur. We were warned about the exploits of Wim van Elst, who went over the edge in 1951, being fortunate not to plunge all the way to the bottom, and was rescued by his team-mates. With no ACG to support me I decided caution was the order of the day, and took it easy going down.
The other warning was to put on clothes. The mountains are so high, and the descents so long, that it takes a long time to get to the bottom, especially if you don't pedal much. Pedalling makes you go faster, obviously, but it can also make you colder as it increases the wind-chill. So after climbing up with just shirt and base layer, it was practically full winter gear for the descent. You needed it too, as it was quite cold.
I hardly noticed the Souleur before the descent began in earnest, about 13km down to Argeles Gazost, where most of the party were already lunching at a small cafe. By now, following the pattern of yesterday, the sun was coming out and the day was heating up so I divested myself of all the layers in preparation for the big one- the Tourmalet.
It's tempting to say absolutely noting about it at all, after all you can find so much out there about it. But what would that serve? So here are the facts: 18 km of climbing from Luz St Sauveur, average gradient is 7-8%, up until Bareges it's a fairly straightish road, beyond there it is stunning in its beauty, wild and mountainous. The highest navigable road in the Pyrenees at 2115m, and the most famous mountain of the Tour de France.
I found it the hardest climb i have ever done. It just never, ever relents. On almost every other climb, there is a flat or shallow gradient for a bit, to give you a chance to take stock, gather yourself and move on. The Tourmalet is like a hammer striking you every 60 seconds with amazing precision as it makes you suffer. There are longer, there are steeper cols on this trip, but none are as unforgiving as the Tourmalet. It took me two hours.
Another quick change, cafe stop, glance round the cycling memorabilia, get the carnet stamped and down I went. Again I took my cautious approach, stopping for some photos and absorbing the disdain of a suicidal maniac local cyclist, in full racing tuck, zooming past me at a tremendous rate. Good job for my caution, as my slowish 25-30 mph, enabled me to stop before i collided with a sheep that decided to emerge from the roadside.
Before long I was down in St Marie de Campan, before another few miles took me to our stop for the night at Campan, where they were having a scarecrow festival. Dozens of them everywhere, including a wedding party, cyclists all over our hotel even.
After yesterday's average speed of around 15.5 mph, today we were down to around 11mph, reflecting the slowness of going up and down such huge mountains. 78 miles too, but they were hard ones, believe me yes.
Nothing in England is like this. For a start the climbing lasts for about 16 km, that's about 9 miles I think. The gradient starts fairly easily in the 3-5% range, before tilting unremittingly upwards. The only way to cope with these types of climbs as an amateur is to find your own pace and stick to it. Get in a mental zone and spin away at a cadence you are comfortable with in a gear that does not tire your muscles. In my case this gear was always the bottom one, at least on the first few big climbs.
The weather was fairly damp and misty, which was actually ideal and the cooling effect made it quite nice, despite the ever increasing pitch of the road. There were constant switch backs, waterfalls, steep drops off the road into ravines, and it seemed that my hypnotherapy had worked as these drops failed to scare me. I'm also pleased to say we followed the one-way system in Eaux-Bonnes, thus ensuring we completed all the route, unlike some people who cut the corner. Perhaps they should be DNCs?
Soon after that Bunny got tired of my pace and decided he needed his own, which was fine by me. One of the things I really enjoyed about the trip was the chance to be on my own in such beautiful, uplifting places. I love mountains, walking them or climbing, and the Pyrenees are no exception. The lush and verdant landscape of the lower slopes soon gave way to more exposed moorland as I passed the ski village of Gourette, which was undergoing summer renovation. In honour of the first big climb, and at 1709m it's a high pass, I was wearing my King of the Mountains socks for the first time.
After about 90 minutes I was at the top, into the cafe and getting my carnet stamped. I quickly gulped down some hot chocolate, took a few photos and prepared myself for the descent. You can see it on Google street view, it is spectacular, with the road clinging to the edge of the rocky mountain, winding through a tunnel, before snaking upwards for 2km to the top of the Col du Souleur. We were warned about the exploits of Wim van Elst, who went over the edge in 1951, being fortunate not to plunge all the way to the bottom, and was rescued by his team-mates. With no ACG to support me I decided caution was the order of the day, and took it easy going down.
The other warning was to put on clothes. The mountains are so high, and the descents so long, that it takes a long time to get to the bottom, especially if you don't pedal much. Pedalling makes you go faster, obviously, but it can also make you colder as it increases the wind-chill. So after climbing up with just shirt and base layer, it was practically full winter gear for the descent. You needed it too, as it was quite cold.
I hardly noticed the Souleur before the descent began in earnest, about 13km down to Argeles Gazost, where most of the party were already lunching at a small cafe. By now, following the pattern of yesterday, the sun was coming out and the day was heating up so I divested myself of all the layers in preparation for the big one- the Tourmalet.
It's tempting to say absolutely noting about it at all, after all you can find so much out there about it. But what would that serve? So here are the facts: 18 km of climbing from Luz St Sauveur, average gradient is 7-8%, up until Bareges it's a fairly straightish road, beyond there it is stunning in its beauty, wild and mountainous. The highest navigable road in the Pyrenees at 2115m, and the most famous mountain of the Tour de France.
I found it the hardest climb i have ever done. It just never, ever relents. On almost every other climb, there is a flat or shallow gradient for a bit, to give you a chance to take stock, gather yourself and move on. The Tourmalet is like a hammer striking you every 60 seconds with amazing precision as it makes you suffer. There are longer, there are steeper cols on this trip, but none are as unforgiving as the Tourmalet. It took me two hours.
Another quick change, cafe stop, glance round the cycling memorabilia, get the carnet stamped and down I went. Again I took my cautious approach, stopping for some photos and absorbing the disdain of a suicidal maniac local cyclist, in full racing tuck, zooming past me at a tremendous rate. Good job for my caution, as my slowish 25-30 mph, enabled me to stop before i collided with a sheep that decided to emerge from the roadside.
Before long I was down in St Marie de Campan, before another few miles took me to our stop for the night at Campan, where they were having a scarecrow festival. Dozens of them everywhere, including a wedding party, cyclists all over our hotel even.
After yesterday's average speed of around 15.5 mph, today we were down to around 11mph, reflecting the slowness of going up and down such huge mountains. 78 miles too, but they were hard ones, believe me yes.
Monday, 13 September 2010
Be careful out there
This time last Monday I was just finishing my last evening meal, having met all my fellow riders on the Raid Pyreneen. It was warm, a bit cloudy and there was a sense of nervous expectation in the air.
The briefing had been done, detailed and exhaustive too, and we all had our blue and orange Marmot tops to wear (not my colour, still free kit is free kit...), and everyone was at pains to stress it was a holiday, relax, chill, etc. Yeah right.
Including Bunny and me, there were 18 paying riders, plus one rep who was going to ride too. The Yorkshire Lad (YL) had been a racer in his younger days, although at 39 he probably still could be, as well as two other support crew from Marmot Tours. So, with our bikes ready, pedals fixed, kit laid out, drinks mixed, we settled down for a restless night's sleep, waiting for the off the next day.
Hendaye, the town the route started in, is not somewhere you would choose to stay, but it is where the cyclo club de Bearn had decided the Raid Pyrenean should start, so who were we to argue. The Hotel Campanile was pretty good, plenty of food at least, and our room even had air-conditioning!
Tuesday morning dawned, well struggled into life more like. It was overcast and the rain alternated between drizzle and rain, but there wasn't much wind so that was something. We mounted our steeds and formed a loose peleton for the three mile ride down to the beach, the Atlantic Ocean at last. But the nerves and the rain had clearly got to a few people, and we had one spill before we got down there. This was to be a feature of the morning and i suspect it was a mixture of bad luck, a lack of experience of group riding, nerves and maybe just a touch of recklessness in the very wet conditions.
Not content with last weeks "chaingate" my hire bike, lovely in all respects to the naked eye, decided to punish me by dumping the chain off after about three miles. By the time I'd fixed it I was way back, but fortunately Charlie had the route downloaded upon him, so I was able to catch up before the start of the first col.
If you can call it a col, Col St Ignace is 169m high and very lovely it was, with wooded slopes, fine views, and even a bit less rain. The descent was similarly gentle and it wasn't long before we were in Espelette, getting our carnet stamped as evidence we were on our way. At 176m the Col Pinodietta was a bit higher, but blink and you'd have missed it and yes it had stopped raining. There then followed a long gentle drag upwards, which we rode in small groups, up to the town of St Jean Pied de Port. By now we'd done about 50 miles (you'll get used to the juxtaposition of miles and km, I did it all week long in my head "divide by 5, multiply by 8...)so it was a very amiable time for lunch.
Bunny and I decided that this should be introduced to all sportives, as the lovely town and its lovely cafe served up fresh soup with chips for a reasonable price. And by now it was actually sunny, so we divested ourselves of wet gear which went onto the van, and headed off up the first proper col-the Col d'Osquich (500 metres, and about 5km long from memory.
A blast downhill across rolling farmland, well on the road, but you know what i mean, and along to our second control point at Tardets-hot chocolate for me this time. With 80 miles done, the day had seemed fairly easy, but we then entered the last 30 miles to Arudy, up into a forest with a road like treacle, and despite a few dons, it was hard going. Then it rained again.
But all in all it was a great day to kick off with as we arrived in the town, with 112 miles under the tyres and a stiffer, steeper test ahead of us on Wednesday. A few riders had bumps and scratches but we were all in good spirits, and enjoyed a great dinner in the hotel restaurant, full of character and quirkiness.
The support and directions from the Marmot guys was great, attentive but relaxed, and Bunny and I had a great room overlooking the town square. He bagged the prize of the day though-a double bed, and I declined his offer of a Morecambe and Wise impression.
The briefing had been done, detailed and exhaustive too, and we all had our blue and orange Marmot tops to wear (not my colour, still free kit is free kit...), and everyone was at pains to stress it was a holiday, relax, chill, etc. Yeah right.
Including Bunny and me, there were 18 paying riders, plus one rep who was going to ride too. The Yorkshire Lad (YL) had been a racer in his younger days, although at 39 he probably still could be, as well as two other support crew from Marmot Tours. So, with our bikes ready, pedals fixed, kit laid out, drinks mixed, we settled down for a restless night's sleep, waiting for the off the next day.
Hendaye, the town the route started in, is not somewhere you would choose to stay, but it is where the cyclo club de Bearn had decided the Raid Pyrenean should start, so who were we to argue. The Hotel Campanile was pretty good, plenty of food at least, and our room even had air-conditioning!
Tuesday morning dawned, well struggled into life more like. It was overcast and the rain alternated between drizzle and rain, but there wasn't much wind so that was something. We mounted our steeds and formed a loose peleton for the three mile ride down to the beach, the Atlantic Ocean at last. But the nerves and the rain had clearly got to a few people, and we had one spill before we got down there. This was to be a feature of the morning and i suspect it was a mixture of bad luck, a lack of experience of group riding, nerves and maybe just a touch of recklessness in the very wet conditions.
Not content with last weeks "chaingate" my hire bike, lovely in all respects to the naked eye, decided to punish me by dumping the chain off after about three miles. By the time I'd fixed it I was way back, but fortunately Charlie had the route downloaded upon him, so I was able to catch up before the start of the first col.
If you can call it a col, Col St Ignace is 169m high and very lovely it was, with wooded slopes, fine views, and even a bit less rain. The descent was similarly gentle and it wasn't long before we were in Espelette, getting our carnet stamped as evidence we were on our way. At 176m the Col Pinodietta was a bit higher, but blink and you'd have missed it and yes it had stopped raining. There then followed a long gentle drag upwards, which we rode in small groups, up to the town of St Jean Pied de Port. By now we'd done about 50 miles (you'll get used to the juxtaposition of miles and km, I did it all week long in my head "divide by 5, multiply by 8...)so it was a very amiable time for lunch.
Bunny and I decided that this should be introduced to all sportives, as the lovely town and its lovely cafe served up fresh soup with chips for a reasonable price. And by now it was actually sunny, so we divested ourselves of wet gear which went onto the van, and headed off up the first proper col-the Col d'Osquich (500 metres, and about 5km long from memory.
A blast downhill across rolling farmland, well on the road, but you know what i mean, and along to our second control point at Tardets-hot chocolate for me this time. With 80 miles done, the day had seemed fairly easy, but we then entered the last 30 miles to Arudy, up into a forest with a road like treacle, and despite a few dons, it was hard going. Then it rained again.
But all in all it was a great day to kick off with as we arrived in the town, with 112 miles under the tyres and a stiffer, steeper test ahead of us on Wednesday. A few riders had bumps and scratches but we were all in good spirits, and enjoyed a great dinner in the hotel restaurant, full of character and quirkiness.
The support and directions from the Marmot guys was great, attentive but relaxed, and Bunny and I had a great room overlooking the town square. He bagged the prize of the day though-a double bed, and I declined his offer of a Morecambe and Wise impression.
Saturday, 4 September 2010
Not really the time for blogging
I'll tell you now, this post is a displacement activity. For reasons that I can not really go into at the moment I'm finding it quite hard to think straight, so I was hoping that a bit of typing would at least get my cognitive bits in gear. But I realise now I haven't the heart for it.
I'm not packed either, mainly because I don't know yet what I will have to pack for. It is possible that my trip could be postponed for 12 or so months, I will let you know more in due course. My thoughts, if you can call them that, are with others at the moment, my wife and her family, gathered around the hospital bedside of my father in law, who sadly, is slipping from us.
So I'll merely give you a slimmed down version of my last two rides. Very slimmed down. On Thursday I rode to work and back. I did and Andy Schleck when my chain fell off as I accelerated onto the A38. But I was fine. Today I went to Glastonbury and had a coffee with Skip. She has or will describe it far better than I'm capable of on her website "The Cycling Mayor". Have a look.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/47293441
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/47528042
I'm not packed either, mainly because I don't know yet what I will have to pack for. It is possible that my trip could be postponed for 12 or so months, I will let you know more in due course. My thoughts, if you can call them that, are with others at the moment, my wife and her family, gathered around the hospital bedside of my father in law, who sadly, is slipping from us.
So I'll merely give you a slimmed down version of my last two rides. Very slimmed down. On Thursday I rode to work and back. I did and Andy Schleck when my chain fell off as I accelerated onto the A38. But I was fine. Today I went to Glastonbury and had a coffee with Skip. She has or will describe it far better than I'm capable of on her website "The Cycling Mayor". Have a look.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/47293441
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/47528042
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Here's my Raid Pyrenean route
Five links for the five days I hope to complete next week in 100 hours, inclusive of stops, yes including sleeping. To get the elevation data you need to check the box on the right of each page. Day 2 is where all offers of prayer will be gratefully received-that's Wednesday 8th September!
Day 1: Hendaye to Arudy
http://www.mapmyrun.com/ride/france/-france/874127697758463852
Day 2: Arudy to Campan
http://www.mapmyrun.com/ride/france/arudy/536127697804938697
Day 3: Campan to Massat
http://www.mapmyrun.com/ride/france/-france/940127732902294126
Day 4: Massat to Prades
http://www.mapmyrun.com/ride/france/biert/249127733001436669
Day 5: Prades to Cerbere
http://www.mapmyrun.com/ride/france/prades/232127748988116323
Day 1: Hendaye to Arudy
http://www.mapmyrun.com/ride/france/-france/874127697758463852
Day 2: Arudy to Campan
http://www.mapmyrun.com/ride/france/arudy/536127697804938697
Day 3: Campan to Massat
http://www.mapmyrun.com/ride/france/-france/940127732902294126
Day 4: Massat to Prades
http://www.mapmyrun.com/ride/france/biert/249127733001436669
Day 5: Prades to Cerbere
http://www.mapmyrun.com/ride/france/prades/232127748988116323
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