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La Marmotte 2006 ( The three amigo’s Tour)
For John Harvey, Dan Nosworthy and I the La Marmotte started back in October 2005 when we tried and failed to get entries to the Etape de Tour.
Rather than being ripped off by Baxter’s six day option costing over £1000, my friend and coach at the time, Maurice Broadbent suggested we enter the “Much harder Marmotte” taking in some of the most famous Alpine climbs.
He also said it was the hardest day he had ever spent in the saddle. Something I should have taken more notice of coming from someone who had spent over 40 years on a bike!, taking part in lot’s of competitions. Another notable quote was “it would make the 2004 Etape (which Maurice and I both completed: consisting of 150 miles and 14500 feet of climbing) seem like a Sunday ride” !!.
Our winter build up for the Marmotte began with us doing ever increasing distances, including a long ride John Harvey and I did on that fateful day in January 2006. (The Rhyl Accident).
That days event had very different effects on John and myself (John Harvey has always been very close to John Harland and family) – it made me determined to complete the Marmotte, it was a main topic of conversation the very last time I sat down with Maurice’ the Friday before Christmas. I had no problem what so ever getting on the dreaded turbo through the winter months, by then determined to complete La Marmotte as a tribute to Maurice.
John on the other hand was understandably in two minds whether he even wanted to ride his bike, let alone do the Marmotte – he was also having awful problems with his back which didn’t help.
By March however John had decided he wanted to go ahead and give it a shot – although he was still having back problems that were holding him back on training runs.
After booking flights and the accommodation that Maurice had recommended, Dan had to bow out due to work commitments – unfortunately he had to make the decision between real life i.e. job, future career etc or hobby.
John and I started slowly ramping up the long rides and increasing the amount of climbing in readiness for the challenge ahead.
With only 4 weeks to go to the Marmotte it looked as if Dan would lose his Flight money and deposit for the accommodation, when Wayne Jones announced that he fancied the holiday and a shot at the Marmotte. We were pleased to be back up to three and in no doubt that Wayne could easily breeze around the course – although he hadn’t been doing the distances he was easily the strongest of the three of us.
With just a few days to go we were reasonably confident that we had done as much training as we could have – then John got a text from John Clarke who was camping in the area and also entered the Marmotte with Phil Chadwick.
It told us that they had gone up the Glandon (the first climb), it had taken them 2 hours in 30 + degree heat and it was REALLY hard even in a 29 x 27.
Knowing how well John had been going in the Fondo, Dragon ride etc this gave us more than a little cause for concern.
Thursday the 6th came around and it was off to Liverpool, Easy jet to Geneva, hire car, down to the Hotel in Mizeon (www.hotel-panoramique.com highly recommended), 11 miles up hill from the start at Bourg de Osians.
On the drive down to Bourg the mountains started to rise in front of us, the further we got, the higher they looked. Thankfully by the time we arrived it was dark so we couldn’t see the full horror of what was in front of us.
The Hotel was full of Marmotter’s and we sat down to talk to “Perri” the owner.
This was an enlightening and useful conversation as he gave us some good information.
When John asked about a road that we could ride back after the Marmotte (remember it was 500 metres ABOVE Bourg) he told us that NO ONE ever rode back to Hotel after the Marmotte – park your car in the valley – with hindsight probably the best bit of advice ever.
Advice No 2 “Go tomorrow and look at the Glandon” in his opinion the steepest climb and easy to blow on if you go too hard, leading to failure of the whole event.
Advice No 3 “Go to the top of the Galibier in the car, spend an hour up there getting acclimatised to altitude” !!!!.
After a restless night the following morning we set off up the Glandon and I have to admit we were all shocked at the severity and distance of the climb. Whilst driving up we passed countless number of cyclists toiling up the unrelenting gradient – we were all now VERY apprehensive about what we had taken on.
When we could see the top of the Glandon (4 miles in the distance) we pulled over for a comfort break. Whilst there a couple of Dutch guys pulled in for the same reason and we started chatting.
They informed us that they had done the Marmotte twice before and the worst climb was the “Galibier” by a long shot – as you can imagine this boosted our already shaky confidence no end.
On the way back we had decided to have our first little foray to stretch the legs on he famous Alp d Huez but only up to hairpin 16, 5 from the bottom as this was supposed to be the steepest part. We pulled the bikes out of the car, got our kit on and rode the half mile or so to the foot of the climb.
Although we’d all seen the Alp in the tour, on films, documentaries etc nothing could have prepared me for actually how steep it really is. Don’t believe anyone that say’s it’s not steep, it is and it goes on and on and on. By the second hairpin you can see all of Bourg below you, you are about the same height as the café on the Orme and still have another 8 miles and 19 hairpins to go.
The heat was intense and by the second hairpin I was pouring with sweat, we carried on and actually went up to hairpin 13 where the other two had waited after pulling away slightly. I informed them I would go to 12 as I didn’t want turn at 13 (Bad luck etc) but wanted to conserve very ounce of energy for the next day – by now I realised a finish in this event would be a massive achievement, Maurice’s words “The hardest day I’ve ever had in the saddle” rang in my head !!!.
After this we had to drive to the top of the Alp to register, we decided due to time constraints and maybe also we didn’t really WANT to see the mighty Galibier to head back to the hotel.
Marmotte Day 8th July 2006
I always take the mickey out of John for not getting up early to go training etc but he saved the day with his alarm – we had worked back from the start time of 07.15 in Bourg and decided that we would need to set the alarm for 05.15.
Being one of these radio controlled watches my clock defaulted back to British time and would have got us up an hour to late but john’s phone alarm saved the day much to his delight.
After a forced breakfast of Rice pudding (John took this along especially for the day) and anything else we could force down we were off down to Bourg passing cyclist all the way down the road. We pulled into a lay-by and after answering nature’s nervous calls we were off to the start.
Above was a crystal clear sky with not a cloud in sight, the temperature at 07.00 was cool but pleasant, but with such clear skies we knew we were in for a hot day. The trickle of bikes turned to a torrent and before long we entered the “jam” of kerb to kerb cyclists waiting to move off, we never got to the pens, and after a wait of around 35min, at 07.40, we rolled across the line – somewhere at the start Wayne had ended up 30 ft and possibly a hundred or so behind John and I.
From standing around for what seemed like ages we were very quickly on the move, I was on John’s wheel (nothing new there !) and were bowling out of Bourg De Osian at a reasonable pace. Within 2 miles things had already began to thin out with slower riders on the right and quicker lads flying by on the left. John and I jumped on the back of two lads that were on a mission and did the first, flat 8 to 10 miles or so, at near chain gang pace but sitting on all the time, at a comfy rate.
After going through a small village we got to the first, very minor, hill going up a small dam, which was taken at an easy pace – everyone at this point getting into his or her rhythm which should carry them through the day.
My preferred pace was ever so slightly slower than John’s and I watched as he inched away from me on the climb – we had pre-arranged that we wouldn’t ride together so I thought this would be the last I’d see of him.
However at the top of the dam the group I was in moved quite quickly and I was soon back up with John’s, so we were together for a few of the undulations leading to the mighty Glandon.
Eventually we hit the first steep never ending hill, there were bikes from kerb to kerb, 39 x 27 was engaged and the suffering began !!!. John eased away again and I put my head down and got on with the job of tapping an easy rhythm on the pedals, (one that I could do ALL day). This wasn’t easy to maintain as it was so steep in some places it was necessary to get out of the saddle and push the 27.
If you ask anyone about the “Glandon” they will say the same thing, the worst thing is when you’ve been climbing for around 5 miles it suddenly drops through a series of 6 hairpins and you loose loads of altitude and you have to climb again !!. The insult to this is that the hairpins and hill insists that you break hard on the decent so you don’t get the full benefit of the effort you’ve just put in. Just after this drop the road kicks upward again, you cross a small bridge and then hit the steepest part of the climb. I would have struggled here without a 27 and to be honest if I ever do it again !! I’ll have a 38 x 27 on.
After 2 hours of toil I finally got to the summit of the Glandon, which hadn’t been too bad -one down three to go !!!.
At the summit of the Glandon there was a water station and supposedly a feed station. I was faced however with about 2000 cyclist in a bottle neck.
I joined the mellay and started to head for the water table where it was a “free for all” everyone grabbing bottles. Once I had moved approx 10 feet into the throng I realised however that if I went deeper into the mass I could loose a lot of time, to my right I could see people carrying their bikes over the grass bank and down the other side, cutting out the jam.
I glanced at my bottles and decided I had enough to get me to the next village and would buy some if I had to, the decision was made to get over to the bank, easier said than done. When I turned people had jammed me in, but I could see an exit only 5 feet away – Oh Well, this was no time for British reserve, I picked my bike above my head and literally pushed my way through the crowd in the wrong direction. I only understood the English swearing but I’m sure the other five or so other languages were saying much the same about my parents/genealogy!
Once on the bank a familiar face of Phil Chadwick said “Hi”, he also had in his hand FOUR small bottles of water – and I scrounged one – Thanks Phil.
We had a quick chat and moved to the front of the crowd over the grass bank, it was only at this point we realised the cause for the hold up, the Gendarmes had two motor bikes parked across the road stopping any riders going down the decent.
There had been a very bad accident down the road and the rumours amongst the group were there had been fatalities. The mood was very sombre amongst the waiting cyclist and for a while we weren’t sure even if we would be allowed to continue. In true mercenary style I mentioned to Phil that we had to be at the front of the group as when and if we could go it would take ages to clear the back log.
We pushed and shoved and got down the bank and to the front of the waiting masses, however, after we got down about another 150 or so did the same so we found ourselves a little back from the front line.
When thankfully we were allowed to go, the police set us off in waves of about 60 riders so we were about in wave 4. After we set off again I never saw Phil again. I lost 30 min at this hold up and wasn’t sure if John had got past or not.
The descent off the Glandon is steep, fast, and technical; normally I would relish the high speed and danger of flicking the bike from side to side.
The thought however that fellow cyclists may have perished put a real damper on the decent and made me treat the road with the utmost respect and I admit I was much more cautious than normal. By halfway down however I started to release the breaks more, and when two sports motorbikes went by, I had some fun by re overtaking them several times on the decent along with a few other nutters.
Whilst at the top of the Glandon the temperature had been a pleasant 18 deg or so but the crystal clear skies told us that we were in for a scorcher, as we descended from the Glandon the temperature started to rise and when, I reached the end of the 13 mile decent the temperature had risen to approx 23oC. This was fine whilst coming down, but on hitting the flat it meant you soon needed to be drinking plenty to replenish the sweat that was now flowing freely.
From the bottom of the Glandon to the start of the Telegraphe consisted of riding along a valley bottom on a busy road, made worse by a strong head wind – this was the most unattractive part of the ride but was only to last 7 miles or so. It was not the place to ride alone, on the start of this leg I looked up the road to see a big powerful guy in front, tanned legs and long flowing hair with white kit on. With a quick sprint I was on his wheel, much easier wheel sucking as we bowled along. About 2.5 miles passed and I began to feel guilty, I went by him and asked if he was Dutch “NO German” was the reply, I explained I would try and do a turn but couldn’t guarantee the same quick pace he replied in a voice just like Arnie Swartzneger “You’re Mummy would be proud of you” which made me laugh out loud.
As we went along our group swelled in numbers as people we passed jumped on the back until we had about 15 in total. My German friend came through and did another big turn, the head wind getting stronger.
At this point I felt it was a tad unfair for two of us to be doing all the work so I turned and shouted back “ That a few of you MUST understand English and it’s about time some of you lazy chaps came up here and worked for a bit” Well that the jist of what I shouted but I have to confess I used the international language of swearing as well leaving the group in no doubt what I was on about. This had the desired effect as two lads sheepishly came to front and said in English that they thought they wouldn’t get away with it for much longer, I said thanks and sat in behind them.
Just one more time I chanced my luck, being an introverted quiet bloke, I turned and shouted, “The Dutch, come on there must be some Dutch it’s about time you did some work” – again it worked and three guys came to the front saying Ya Ya OK. “Villen Danke” I shouted back (in dutch).
Looking back I was lucky that no one flicked the gobby welsh guy !!!.
Shortly after this our group met up with another up front and the pace suddenly dropped, I went up to my German friend and tapped him on the shoulder and took off, off the front. After a couple of minutes I glanced back and had to have a double take, I was off the front by 70 meters or so.
With the head wind I knew I would have to swallow my pride and skulk back to the pack, however out of the blue a solo rider came around the pack going at a hell of a pace, I jumped on his wheel and off we went.
With this chap however there was NO chance of me doing any turns at this pace, he was flying, it was all I could do to hang on. As we approached the outskirts of the town at the foot of the Telegraphe I had a word with the man up front, he was from Hamilton in Scotland, when I apologised for not working he just shrugged his shoulders and said “No Problem”. I got the horrible feeling he was just ticking over. I thanked him for his work and informed him I would have to stop for water in this town.
By now my water was almost finished, I had drunk about 3 litres and was almost empty and didn’t want to start the climb of the Telegraphe with no water, as well as this, the heat was now serious at about 27 – 29oC.
I pulled over where there were a number of folk awaiting to look after riders and asked if anyone had any spare water, someone pointed at a pump which had a windy handle on the top. Within 1 minute the bottles were full and it was off to climb the mighty Telegraphe.
Out of all the climbs on the day the Telegraphe was the easiest, when I say easy I mean it wasn’t too steep. There are no “Easy” hills on the Marmotte , the Telegrapghe went on for 9 miles with no letup of switchback hairpin after switchback. The heat also made it difficult, I was really beginning to suffer on the lower slopes, and was drinking as much as I could.
After about 4 miles there was a water station where helpers were handing out small bottles of water, I grabbed one as I went by and emptied the contents over my head – the first time I did this but certainly not the last, in fact after this if water bottles were full any excess water went over my head such was the heat.
I met up with a guy from Denny in Scotland and had a chat, he had done the same etape that I did in 2004 , and we both agreed that this was hotter . It was nice to talk to someone for a while and it made the relentless climb go a bit quicker and took the mind off tiring legs.
The Telegraphe is a great climb in that you benefit by looking down at fantastic views of where you’ve come from, it’s a long way down. The top of the climb came after 1.5 hours of climbing , a welcome sight.
The 3 mile descent to Valloire seemed to be over in the blink of an eye, and although the temperature had dropped with the altitude it was still hot.
I knew the feed station was on the other side of the town, but it seemed like ages before we got to it, I think it was only about a mile, but that mile of course was uphill yet again and the start of the Galibier.
By the time I got to this feed station I felt I needed something substantial to eat, I had scoffed 4 gel bars, and two twixes plus 5 litres of fluid. I stopped for 10 minutes here and stuffed bananas in my face, rolls, basically anything I could get my hands on – they also had quarters of camembert and tomatoes which really hit the spot.
I filled both my bottles from the taps provided, filling one with SIS Go powder that I had carried from the start. Refreshed it was back on the road in the blinding sun and heat to face one of the most famous climbs in France the Galibier.
It was another never ending climb, with the road winding along a valley with spectacular views of the surrounding mountains. It’s here that you realise just how goods the pro-riders are, they power up these lower slopes in the big ring, where as the “mere mortals” on the Marmotte churn away at 39 x 27, 26 gears at low cadence.
The heat by now was having a real effect on me as I struggled to keep cool, it was at this point for the first time I copied a lot of my fellow riders and removed my helmet and draped it over the handlebars which helped no end, let’s face it I was hardly going at breakneck speeds. This lower part of the climb goes on for about 7 miles then the sting’s in the tail.
You get to a point called Plan Lachat and the road kicks right around a hairpin, you raise your head up and the full horror hits you. The road goes steep and all you can see it about 6 hairpins all with tiny dots of cyclist on them, in the very far distance straining you neck more you can see a ridge, just occasionally you see something moving on that ridge, then you realise it vehicles and that’s where you’re heading.
There are only two things you can do when faced with seeing that, Quit or carry on, the first has never been an option in my book unless you have mechanical failure or are very close to death !!!. So it was into the trusty old 27 gear and tap tap away for what seemed like a lifetime.
On the last part of this climb I like most riders slipped into my own little world of thoughts – thinking why do I do this, what’s the point, what about the guys that can’t do it anymore, the Rhyl guys, Maurice, Wayne, I wonder what Joy and the girls are doing now, the meaning of life etc etc, if you’ve ever done a long climb you’ll know what it’s like.
The big plus about climbing to such heights that the temperature dropped significantly which suited me fine and gave me extra Zap, don’t get me wrong I wasn’t dancing on the pedals in the big ring, but it did make things slightly easier.
The top of the Galibier was very emotional, whether it was the altitude, or just the end of almost 3 hrs of effort I don’t know but I don’t mind admitting that I shed a tear or two and looked skyward and had a chat with Maurice, lets face it at 2642 meters I was closer to him than normal.
At the very summit there was a feed station, I stuffed some food in myself and my pockets, filled the water bottles yet again, put the rain cape on (it wasn’t cold but there was a fresh breeze and with a 28 mile decent ahead I knew a sweaty body would soon chill).
After 4 min or so it was back on the bike to start probably the longest decent of my life. The decent however was not as great as I expected. The drops off the side of the road were massive, looking over the side it would be certain death to have any kind of error on the upper slopes, along with bumpy road surface, gravel on the corners the first part of the decent was taken very cautiously. There were some parts that you could let the bike go, luckily most of the time you were on the right side of the road, away from the edge of the road. When the road swung the other way you could look down the 1000 feet plus drop away this slowed me down a fair bit.
The road wound down to the junction at the top of the Lautaret where the road levelled a little , the road much safer to let the bike go as it wound down the valley. The only down side now was there was a strong head wind that meant you had to peddle, all be it in the big ring and the 12 sprocket, it was time to jump on someone’s wheel.
As if by magic about 6 lads went by, a quick sprint and I was one their wheels. I stayed there for a while but we fast approached a series of hairpin bends, it was only when these guys took the bends I started to realise maybe I wasn’t in the same league.
I have to admit that I normally hold my own on decents and rarely feel out of my depth riding with groups, these guys were dropping like stones. The speed on the straights was no problem, on the bends however the angles of lean were extreme, especially as the road surface wasn’t that good.
After 3 bends I decided enough was enough, as well as this I was heating up in my rain cape and sweating heavily again with the efforts. I had taken my sunglasses off as well during the climb and decided now with high speeds and flies to pull over and put them on as well as taking off my cape. Within a minute I was back on the road, it wasn’t long before another group came along, around 10 or so, and it was back on the wheel again.
This group was much more sensible on the corners and I didn’t feel in danger at all. As we came down the hill we picked up more for the group until it totalled around 25. This was a good group and when we went through the first of the tunnels just before La Grave I was glad to be in a largish mob.
I had been warned to remove my sunglasses before entering the tunnels by sliding them down my nose, this was excellent advice as the change to darkness from bright sunshine caused momentary blindness even without the glasses. The tunnels were scary places as we had no lights and visibility was poor, as well as this traffic coming the other way dazzled you with the headlights – the surface also looked shiny. Luckily none of the tunnels was too long but I was glad of the large group and wouldn’t have liked to go through as a solo rider.
On the way down we passed our turn off to Mizeon where our hotel was, just after this the road kicked up slightly, not much and not for long but enough to blow the group apart. At this point it was easy to see who had anything left in there legs, about 5 lads fired off the front, 10 went straight out of the back and about 10 of us settled into a rhythm in between, most of us conserving what little energy we had for what lay just ahead.
On the run in to Bourg I ate a banana and a gel, along with a melted Twix leaving me only needing to fill the water bottles. At this point we passed the parked hire car, but I have to admit the thought of pulling over didn’t even enter my mind, after all, all I had to do was climb Alp d Huez and I was finished !!!!.
Arriving at the feed station at the bottom of the Alp I knew I was in a bad way physically, I was seriously overheating, I was dizzy and knew I was starting to suffer from heatstroke, the temperature was approx 35-40oC and it was like being in an oven, as well as this my legs were pretty shot, my back and feet also hurt like hell. The one thing that was OK was my mind, I was determined to get up that hill even if it killed me .
I had reached the bottom of the Alp in 8hrs 15min including the 30 min delay and the target time for Gold was 9hrs 15min, of course I knew I couldn’t do the climb in 1 hour, in the state I was in and the heat, but I knew I would get up eventually.
I only stopped for 2 min at the feed station (a big mistake with hindsight) had 4 cups of coke filled the water bottles, poured loads of water over my head which helped cool me down and set off again. The main difference being I knew this was the last climb of the day.
The climb to the first hairpin was savage, the heat was almost unbearable, sweat was running off my nose in a constant stream just like the pro’s, difference however was I was moving at around 5 mph not the 14 – 15 mph that they do. My legs felt heavy and slow, this was about survival now.
The only saving grace is I was not alone, in front, either side, and behind there were riders in a similar state, all crawling at a steady pace upwards. The people at the side of the road gave fantastic encouragement, “Bon Courage” they would shout and clap, “Dig in lad” I heard a few times, where I could I rasped back “Thanks” but couldn’t manage a smile, I was in too much pain for that.
The first hairpin seemed to take ages to get to, although in truth it probably only took a few minutes, as I went around it there were lots of people shouting encouragement – only another 20 to go I thought.
Although not REALLY steep after 100 miles and 12500 feet in the legs along with the heat the Alp seemed like a 1 in 4 , the 39 x 27 gearing was just not low enough, still I carried on turning the pedals painfully slowly and carried on in the hope that it might get cooler as I gained altitude.
On hairpin 4 there were people holding out water, I gestured for it to be poured over my head like a pro. A girl stepped forward and emptied a litre bottle over my head and shoulders. For a moment I was in heaven, it washed away the sweat and lowered my temperature just a fraction. ”Merci Becuop” I shouted. From this moment on I did the same where ever I saw someone holding water , I know it sounds silly but it really helped me knowing that complete strangers were prepared to help a sad old lad in a terrible state to get up this hill. I think I must have had about 30 litres of water poured over me by the top of the climb.
There was also a great spot on the hill where one of the residents had positioned two hoses squirting water like rain onto the road for about 20 meters, it was fantastic to ride through it slowly and lower the temperature yet again.
By about halfway up there is a small chapel and just beyond a bank of taps had been set up. Maurice had told me “Not to stop under any circumstance going up the Alp No matter how slow you go” and going up I could see riders at the side of the road that had, I think it was because he thought I might not get going again. Some of the stopped riders certainly looked as if they would struggle to get back on.
When I saw the taps however and my empty bottles ( I had drunk what I was carrying, 2 litres) there was no choice. I muttered sorry mate I need to stop here.
I climbed off, filled my water bottles and had a 5-minute break also drinking some isostar, which was green and tasted like antifreeze. I also emptied another load of water over myself that cooled me, and as I wasn’t on the bike I didn’t immediately start sweating again.
Feeling much better I set off for the top which was now in sight, a long way off, but I could see the finish.
As I slogged upwards the temperature finally started to fall, and for the last 3 miles there was a breeze, not cold but it all helped, I was in my own little world again when suddenly I heard “Dig in Burnsy you old women”, it was John Clarke speeding down hill after finishing.
After what had seemed like a lifetime, and the slowest I’ve ever ridden a bike uphill I entered the outskirts of Alp d Huez, crowds cheered and clapped at the barriers which lifted the spirits.
2 km sign, then the 1km to go sign were passed, then suddenly the roundabout, left turn and the finish banner was in sight. Normally I would have sprinted for the finish, I lifted out of the saddle but there was NOTHING left, I sat back down, smiled, and slogged up to and over the finish line.
I had finished the famous La Marmotte, chuffed, you bet I was, but I was so tired I just wanted lie down. I pushed my bike to the other side and lay down amongst other cyclists lying flaked out in the shade – dizzy, exhausted and happy.
It was the “hardest day I’ve ever had in the saddle “ too.
We had planned that when we finished we would use our phones to text the others, so I texted to Wayne and John :- “Finished, F****d, Flaked Out, Bike For Sale”.
I got a text back from Wayne “Packed, Punctured, P****d off”.
After lying down for about 20 min I decided to get something to eat, I struggled to my feet and started to make my way to the pasta tent. As I pushed my bike down through the crowds I suddenly saw a Rhos shirt. It was Steve Jones, I stopped to chat and was hearing his story when suddenly I got very light headed and dizzy (standing in the sun again), I said to Steve quickly I had to lie down and promptly fell to the floor. Steve asked if I was OK, to which I replied “I don’t think so”.
He helped me to get on a bench in the shade of a tent, got me a drink, some food and sorted me out , within 10 min I was feeling much better – Thanks Steve. He even gave me his ticket for the Pasta tent ( I had lost mine during the day).
How the Rest Got On
Wayne undoubtedly had the worst day, he fitted a brand new rear tyre but was plagued by punctures all day. Firstly he punctured at the foot of the Glandon, he then got caught up at the top of the Glandon for 1.5 hours with the accident, punctured again on the decent, on the start of the Telegrapghe and finally 5 km from the summit of the Galibier.
The rear tyre could be pushed on and off the wheel by finger pressure alone, after running out of tubes and using John’s spare he decided to call it a day. A great shame as he was riding well and as you can imagine was totally gutted at not finishing.
John was in front of me at the top of the Glandon but then got caught up in the delay for the accident – he also had to wait for 1.5 hours, and met up with Wayne. After losing so much time they decided to ride together, John stopped with Wayne every time he punctured – but otherwise had a good ride. John however did suffer badly from the altitude and felt dizzy at the summit of most of the climbs.
Chatting to John his ride time was similar, if not quicker, to mine. When he came across the line he was certainly in better shape than I had been.
John Clarke had set off with Phil Chadwick, John C did the quickest of all the Rhos lads having only been held up for a couple of minutes by the accident. I think John had a pretty trouble free ride, but unfortunately did see the accident victims at the roadside.
He also witnessed the French cyclists hammering on the side of a camper van which was literally wedged against the side of tunnel trying to get past a lorry, leaving no space for even a bicycle, Passé, Passé they were shouting.
As the owner of a nice camper van John sympathised with the camper van owner who would face a sizable repair bill.
Phil Chadwick finished the event OK, don’t know if he any major moments but he crossed the finish line.
Steve Jones had a good ride and finished a few minutes after myself looking as fresh as a daisy, he actually got in a van straight after the event and his mate drove him back to North Wales.
Dave Thomas (we spoke at the end) finished OK and looked pretty fresh and rightly chuffed at finishing.
As a club I think to have 6 of the 7 finishing such an event (Mechanical failure being the only reason for Wayne not to finish) is a tribute to the fitness level and endurance of the club members. Well Done Chaps – Now about 2007!