It's and it's time to ride!
Maybe it was a mass start to the New Year’s training programme; maybe it was the opportunity to do some quality cycling protected from the winter elements; maybe it was a collective realisation that we had eaten too many mince pies over Christmas. I suspect that each of us had their own reason to recourse to the Manchester Velodrome on 7th of January as 31 riders of the Rhos on Sea Cycle Club, friends, and compatriots pitched up for a action-packed evening on the boards.
My first impression of the track – I had never seen one except on the telly – was that it was the love-child of a wall-of-death and a scalextric set. An oval circuit with two hugely banked turns, it even had black, red and blue lines in place of slots. The butterflies that had collected in my stomach subsided slightly as I realised that the group on before us were children having a birthday party. If they could do it, what could I have to worry about. This became more apparent as I examined my hire bike – no gears, no freewheel, no brakes. Butterflies were back in a swarm – this was looking serious.
At least everyone else in the group seemed confident as they mounted their steeds and cycled up the ramp to the waiting area. I gingerly climbed on and clipped in to the pedals whilst hanging on to a convenient rail. I then set off up after the others past the signs, which indicated that under no circumstances should I attempt to ride up the ramp, and past the vigilant eye of one of the trainers, to receive my first bollocking of the evening. Everyone else ribbed me as they had got away with it. It was not the last time in the evening I would get shouted at for being too slow.
Our trainer for the evening then came and introduced herself. Andrea Ingham is a powerful-looking woman with decades of track-riding experience and knowledge. As it turned out, she is also very observant and safety conscious. I think I speak for everyone to say that I felt safe under her supervision. The most important instructions she gave us were very logical: always check over your shoulder before changing position on the track to avoid collisions; and keep your speed up when high on the banking so as not to slide off.
The exercises she gave us were simple to start with, and then she led us progressively into new manoeuvres as we gained in confidence. The first exercise was riding in a line at ‘sheep distance’, as Andrea called it. When she criticised one rider for riding too far back he exclaimed, ‘I like my sheep big’. Another riding quite close was heard to say, ‘You should see how close I get to sheep back home’.
Soon we were doing ‘Madison’ around the track. The leader of the line leaves the front by steering up to the top of the bank to allow the line to pass underneath, and then joins on again at the back. The lead changes every lap. This is a fun thing to do, and I felt a bit like a fighter pilot pulling back on the yoke into a slow climb, letting my pursuers pass beneath, then diving down onto their ‘six o’clock’. It is only when you are at the top of the bank that you fully appreciate just how steep it is, particularly with other cyclists passing beneath you. Some racing followed, and some more exercises, including out-of-the-saddle pedalling – a real thrill when on the banking.
The last exercise was a last-man standing race just in case anybody wanted to complain they didn’t get a good workout. This involved everyone on the track at once. This was rather exciting – a little too much so at one point when I found myself catching up to a rider too quickly on the banking. I quickly checked over my shoulder to overtake in time to catch a glimpse of someone about to pass me! This called for emergency braking. This is an interesting proposition on a bicycle going at 30mph without brakes on a steep bank requiring centrifugal force to remain stuck to a particular altitude. My attempt to back-pedal resulted in the rear wheel dancing around the track for just long enough to reduce my speed to barely enough to remain glued-on as the entire Rhos peloton passed on the inside about 10 feet underneath me. My prayers were divided between Andrea failing to notice me and gravity failing to notice me. Only the latter was answered, and I received my second bollocking of the evening for being too slow.
Still, the evening passed without incident or injury, (no thanks to me), and at the end there were 31 faces grinning with exhilaration. Most of the 2-hour session was spent on the track, even with a large group, so value was very good. A few of the party had previous track experience, and I would like to extend gratitude to them for their support on behalf of those of us who were there for the first time. I feel there is a lot more to track riding than initially meets the eye, and there are valuable skills to be learned which are transferrable to road-riding; such as pedalling technique, observation, pace-keeping, and not least – teamwork. Andrea herself said that skills are far more important than power or stamina for track riding, and this is just one good reason to give it a try.
Overall the turnout on the night was excellent, and included riders from all over North Wales, making it a social occasion, too. Thanks to all those who attended. The feedback I received after the event suggests that another trip should be planned – watch the website for details in the near future.
Saul Huck.
Saturday 17 th September 2005 – Arrival
I arrived in Toulouse Airport about 1pm to be met by Steve, the guide, and a few others who had like me decided to spend a week cycling from the Atlantic Coast to the Mediterranean Coast across the Pyrenees. We put the bikes in the trailer and made our way in Steve’s minibus to Biarritz on the Atlantic Coast.
On arrival at the hotel in Biarritz we met a few of the others on the trip (29 in total) and our other guide for the week, brenda (Steve’s wife). Steve and brenda run Pyractif a company that does mountain biking and road biking tours in the Pyrenees. I’ve been with Pyractif before (when training for the Transalp race) and would recommend them to anyone. Steve and brenda are a top couple who always make you feel welcome and their knowledge of the region is excellent. Oh and the cycling is a bit good too.
After the customary photo of all 29 of us on a beach on the Atlantic Coast we set off, leaving the sea - for a few days at least. Our group which was made up of brits, Aussies, a Canadian, Irish and an American soon started sorting itself into smaller groups by order of speed. When I hit the Spanish border control I knew I had taken a wrong turn (as Spain was not on the itinery!) and a few km of backtracking was necessary. This was the first and only time all week that I took a wrong turn – the route was fairly straightforward, Steve had given us directions and maps, and either Steve or brenda were usually waiting in their Land Rover at any large junctions. This was ‘Pays Basque’ country, and it was stunning. It reminded me of Wales (apart from the blue skies!). The cycling was fantastic with rolling green hills and quiet roads. We had a welcome café stop at lunch time where Steve and brenda had pre ordered our baguettes. No really big climbs today, with only two ‘tiny cols’ - first the St Ignace (169m) and then a bit of a leg stretcher Col de Osquich (500m). Osquich is apparently the first climb of the 2006 Tour. James from Yorkshire, Bob from America and myself rolled into the hotel in the village of Gurmencon first to use all the hotel’s hot water before the others arrived. A few beers and a good sleep and I was ready for tomorrow, which was going to have a few lumps along the way.
A crystal clear but quite cool morning saw us heading out on day 2. We were leaving Pays Basque today and heading into the bigger mountains of the Pyren
ees. It was not long before we were on the first ‘famous’ climb of the week – Col de Marie Blanque (1008m). Whilst not massive the Marie Blanque was steep (hitting 13% on the last km or two) and had caused me most concern about my 39x23 gearing. My legs didn’t let me down as I hit the top feeling quite good. The views going up the Marie Blanque were limited as it is tree lined the whole way up, so you don’t get a feel for the stunning landscape that you are in. Steve and brenda met us on top and after taking my jacket from the Land Rover we headed down. The descent levels off in the middle and the stunning views really open up. It then gets steeper towards the bottom and our first ‘big’ descent of the week saw us pushing a hair raising pace. I led a group of 4 into a tight hairpin at high speed and I heard a shout which had genuine fear in it behind me and then the scraping of a bike along the ground. James had lost it and was careering into a wall. Having negotiated the bend I made the mistake of looking back to see James’ fate and ended up crashing into the wall myself! I cut my chin, hand and arms, ripped my jacket, but worse of all my shifter was knackered (James was ok by the way). I rattled with one gear into a small town for lunch and Stave and brenda brought the First Aid kit out for the Welsh idiot who had left his skin on the Marie Blanque. Steve stripped down the shifter but it was beyond repair and we were nowhere near a bike shop. I thought my holiday was over before it had even properly started. However, in an amazingly bit of resourceful bike mechanics Steve remembered that he had a mountain bike thumbshifter in the Land Rover and went on to fit it to the drops of my bars. Surely it wouldn’t work? We rolled from the lunch stop and amazingly it did work. Not quite as smooth as its Dura Ace predecessor but I had use of all gears – which was important as we immediately hit the Col d’Aubisque
(1709m).
The Aubisque was a stunning climb and a hairy descent (particularly the unlit tunnel!) was then followed by our third Col of the day – Col de Solour. A great descent saw us hit a pretty French town where James and myself got lost in the one way system. We eventually got out of the town and a steady drag up the valley towards the foot of the final Col – the Tourmalet. Our accommodation that night was a Gite Etape in the ski town of Bareges half way up the Tourmalet. I had said all day long that I would climb the Tourmalet in one go, and descend back down, to Bareges. However, passing through Bareges half way up the climb the lure of a shower and a beer was too much and I stopped for the night.
You really get a sense that you are riding where cycling history has been made several times in the past whilst on the Tourmalet. Tour de France photographs and television footage made the top feel strangely familiar. It was another clear sunny day but at 2,115m the top was bloody cold. We had a quick hot drink in the café and then took one of the free newspapers they provide for cyclists to stuff down their tops to keep warm. A long, long descent meant big grins at the bottom, where it was a lot
warmer.
Col d’Aspin (1849m) followed almost immediately to wipe the grins off our faces. I’ve done this climb before and it does rank as one of my favourite cols and the views at the top are unbeatable. The last couple of hours of the day were spent going through rolling countryside in warm sunshine before ending up in Steve and brenda’s farmhouse in Bertren, which is not too far from the ski town of Luchon.
We rolled out of Bertren under yet more blue skies. We crossed the wide valley floor and were soon bagging the first col of the day – Col des Ares. Not huge but a regular on the Tour (category 3) and last used in 2004. The pretty town of Aspet followed which has a bustling square and a market with loads of nice food – a sight for sore eyes now that we were on our fourth day of cycling. Col de Larrieu followed – a ‘small’ climb at 779m – and then empty roads led us slightly downhill for what seemed like ages to the valley floor and the River Salat. A nice ride along the river led us to the lunch stop before the final climb – the Col de Port (1249m) which I had never heard of but is apparently a Category 2 Tour climb. It wasn’t steep and I reckon if you had the will you could get up it in the big ring. I didn’t try this though! A long, memorable descent led us to Tarascon where we had a few beers and talk turned to the Mediterranean which was now looming closer.
We headed towards Ax-les-thermes and eventually Prades over 140km and another 3 cols today – once again not a cloud in the sky. Col de Marmare (1362m) and Col des Sept Freres (1253m) were first. Whilst not hugely famous (or particularly steep) they are regulars on Le Tour and the scenery in these parts was a match for anywhere I have ever seen (except the Conwy Valley of course). Later in the day, the trio of James, Bob and myself who had been riding a similar pace all week went through some stunning geological landscapes culminating in a spectacular gorge (Gorges St Georges) before the last Col of the week – Col de Jau (1506m). Whilst nothing was said about racing prior to the start of the climb, it was obvious that there was an attempt by me and James to reach the top of the final col first, as we set off at a very fast pace. Well, you’ll be glad to hear that I flew the flag for Rhos and got to the top first after really giving it some stick on this 1 st Category climb. An unbelievably good 26km (read it folks, TWENTY SIX KILOMETRES) descent finished a great day off in the town of Prades. The end was now near and with tomorrow being such a short day, the mood at the end of the day was lighter than usual. No worries about rehydration today – James, Bob, the Aussies and myself sat in the beer garden and knocked back some well deserved beers and were quite pissed by the time the last few stragglers rolled in.
No climbs and a fairly short ride of 70km today. There was one final challenge though – who would get to the Mediterranean first? James, Bob, Ciaran and myself set off quickly each taking turns on the front. We stopped to check the map and after a couple of minutes of debate, the Aussies came chain-ganging past at a rate of knots. After selecting the right route we really
put the hammer down to try and catch them up, but they were out of sight for now. Today’s pace was loads higher than the previous few days and we kept working together to catch them up. We eventually passed them having a ‘comfort break’ – this was our chance. I put some really big turns on the front motivated by the sea air in my nostrils! After losing the sprint for the ‘Areges sur Mer’ sign to James (revenge for me winning yesterday’s final Col no doubt) we rolled into a pizzeria on the harbour-side and were the first four to reach the coast. Just to rub salt in the wound for the others who would shortly roll in we bought champagne to mark our arrival (thanks Bob!).
Steve and brenda transferred us to the stunning walled town of Carcassone for a night of eating, drinking and even some clubbing into the early hours. Spirits were high and the atmosphere was excellent. I would pay for this with a hangover in Toulouse Airport tomorrow but I think I had deserved a few beers (and a few tequilas!).
Overall, it was an amazing trip through stunning scenery, over famous Cols and in beautiful weather. Good company and excellent guides made it better still.
This fully supported tour was an absolute bargain at £575 for 7 nights (including evening meals and breakfasts) – see www.pyractif.com for details. There’s plenty of flights to Toulouse from North West England. I would recommend it – you will not be disappointed.
Ciao for now,.
Jonny
Chris Near, Warren Bates, Nick Gracie and myself – known as Team Aberdeen Asset Management (our sponsors), set off at 9.30am Monday 14.11.05 from Westport, on the west coast of new Zealand’s south island, to attempt the southern traverse. I was a little nervous when I saw the 3metre surf coming into the beach we were about to kayak out of – this should have been a warning!! Chris was in the front of our double racing kayak so steered us safely out of the bay, we kayaked for approx 15km watching the dolphins and the fantastic views but always with a feeling of impendi
ng doom. I’d never surfed in 3m surf before and Chris had never surfed in a double kayak with a bit of a novice in the back. We were the last to attempt the surf and were patiently waiting for the smallest waves- unfortunately there weren’t any, and Chris’s face was a picture when a large wave broke over the top of us- we were swimming!! We were too far out to swim into shore and seemed to be there forever, with wave after wave trying to drown us- luckily after a lot or arm waving and shouting, a nice man on a jet ski came to our rescue and dragged us in to witness the carnage on the beach!! There were bits of boat and people everywhere. We were lucky as our support crew quickly located our boat up the beach and it only had a small hole. Our paddles turned up the following day. Many teams boats were wrecked and several teams pulled out.
The next section was a 49km mountain bike over the mountains on fire roads- this was great and we managed to pick up a few places- however we’d already decided by this point the race was more about survival than doing well!
The trekking/ burrowing then started!! There are a lot of trees covering the hills on the west coast of the South Island with few paths through the fairly dense undergrowth. The going was slow and we soon realised there wasn’t going to be any running on this race, even walking was difficult. As darkness fell the navigation also became difficult and we met several other teams who kept getting lost (even some of the locals!). The 37km took over 12 hours, there was a beautiful view from the ridge as day broke but we were becoming increasingly tired.
The next section was 9kms of white water rafting- we were very relieved to be sitting down and Chris navigated us perfectly down the rapids.
After a brief stop in transition and being fed by the support crew we set off on another monster “trek”, up through the trees, along a ridge and back through the trees. Again only 30km but it took 12 hours. We also managed to sleep for 2 hours on the way.
We were looking forward to the next mountain biking section, we should have known due to the lack of tracks that it would be difficult! There was hour upon hour of dragging and carrying the bikes through the trees and initially this was in the dark. 
There was a short road section in the middle and a checkpoint with tea and toast, which helped lift the spirits.
Following another transition, food and 2 hours sleep we started another trek, luckily the first 4 hours was on a good track and I’m sure the view from the hut at the top would have been spectacular but unfortunately we were there in the middle of the night!
The next section was a 45km paddle down the Buller River. The water level was fairly low and initially there was a lot of scraping over rocks- fortunately we didn’t own the boats! Lower down the rapids were great fun and again Chris got the 4 of us down safely.
We had now been racing for 4 days with 6 hours sleep. We were around 12 th position however the leaders, a local team, wer
e along way out in front. Due to the time the stages were taking many teams had been timed out, despite some of the stages having been shortened and our chances of finishing were looking less likely. We were very tired with skin infections and blistered feet.
We started the next long trek but after 4hours of scrambling through the undergrowth with our head torches and having only climbed 200m of the 1200m mountain we decided to call it a day. We felt we’d given it our best shot but decided we were unlikely to finish before Monday and were due to fly back to the UK on Sunday!
Balance Bar Vector was the winning team and finished late on the Friday night, a long way ahead of everyone else. Only 6 teams out of the 45 who set off reached the Saturday cut off so there were a lot of disappointed people!
I’m now recovering and forgetting about the unpleasant parts of the race and the nightmares, when I wake up thinking I’m lost in the middle of the forest are beginning to subside!! I’d like to attempt another adventure race but will be having some kayaking lessons first!!
Whilst planning a forthcoming business trip to a conference in Calgary, it occurred to me that this might also be an opportunity to visit friends in Vancouver and include some training for the Etape du Tour as well. Although I only had a few days free after the conference I figured that it might just give me enough time to cycle to Vancouver via Highway 1 across the Rocky Mt's. before catching a return flight home from Vancouver. I decided to go for it, packed my bike in a hard-shell case and set off for Calgary complete with suitcase of business clothes and cycle gear and another bag containing all my company exhibition material and posters etc.
The first three days in Calgary were mainly spent attending the conference/exhibition during the day and socialising ie drinking beer, in the evenings although I also found time to reassemble my bike and take it for a short test ride to ensure I’d put everything back in the right place. I skipped the last morning session of the exhibition and set off early in a taxi to the local Greyhound depot to arrange courier transportation of suitcases etc to Vancouver. The taxi driver asked when I was planning to catch the bus, when I replied that I was planning to cycle to Vancouver his words were ‘crazy Englishman’ or something to that effect. I pointed out that I was Welsh, crazy was questionable.
Back at hotel, into my biking gear, rest of my kit in a rucksack and checked out leaving a surprised receptionist wondering where the bike had come from. I set off from Calgary at 10am following the old highway (1A) out of town deciding that this might be a preferable option, even though I’d been told that it was rather ‘potholed’, as compared to the busy Highway 1. It was warm and sunny but I soon started to hit the afternoon winds which blow up in this area and for the next 60 miles I was riding into a very strong headwin
d. The route was fairly quiet with not too many big trucks but I did start to encounter fairly poor road surfaces which included some rather deep potholes and some nasty ‘ravines’, almost 6ins deep in places and not somewhere you’d come out of in one piece. The only obstacle littering the road were numerous dead gophers or ground squirrels which exist in burrows alongside the road, can’t imagine their life span is particularly long unless they train their young not to venture out onto the open road? Counting dead gophers kept me occupied for a while and I managed to avoid any other obstacles and arrived in the Rocky Mt foothills in the early afternoon.
As I continued on into the mountains the weather changed and it started to rain as I approached Banff. I decided to shelter under some trees and put on some more gear before going on. As the rain was quite heavy and I’d been out now for about 7hrs I was almost tempted to divert to Banff and find a hotel. No sooner had I thought this than the rain eased off and tempted me back on the road towards Lake Louise. The weather cleared for a while and I was able to appreciate some of the spectacular scenery around me, makes a change to biking around the Great Orme in the evenings. Nearing my final destination I could see bad weather approaching and was anxious to find somewhere to stay fairly quickly. Giving up the idea of looking for the Youth Hostel I dived into the Lake Louise Inn just as torrential rain set in – after 116miles I didn’t really care how much it was going to cost! I spread my damp kit around the room, turned the heating up and dashed off through the rain to the motel’s restaurant for a couple of beers and some pasta.
I left at 6am next morning after a quick cup of tea and cereal-bar in my room, no other option as nowhere open at 5.30am! It was rather cool and trying to hail but I had plenty of clothes on and was soon warm biking up the road to the top of Kicking Horse Pass. One advantage of being out early is quiet roads and the opportunity to see some wildlife – didn’t quite expect to see a Black Bear mooching along the parallel railway track and was momentarily concerned but it quickly spotted my Rhos-on-sea Cycle Club gear and realised that I was going to be far too fast to catch so carried on searching for an easier breakfast. Descending the other side of the Pass I stopped briefly at the ‘Spiral Tunnels’ to watch one of the mile long trains emerge from one tunnel as the end of the same train was still entering the lower tunnel. I rode on through Yoho National Park and passed the famous geological site of the Burgess Shale which I’d visited 15 years previously, on passed Field and up and over another rock-strewn pass before descending into Golden. I was quite pleased with 50miles before a big breakfast but felt like I’d earned it!
Most of the roads on which I traveled had a fairly substantial well surfaced hard-shoulder which was by far the safest place to ride, particularly as Highway 1 is the route used by the big trucks (including massive logging trucks) traveling across british Columbia. Some of the hilly sections include a ‘slow-lane’ which invariably meant a non-existent or minimal hard shoulder. I rode these sections as quickly as I could, usually ending up with a sore neck after the frequent glances behind searching for trucks bearing down on me. The ride to the 
top of ‘Roger’s Pass’ also included a number of avalanche tunnels but I was prepared for these and flicked on my rear LED to warn following drivers of my presence. Arriving at 1444m at the top of the Pass I was refreshed by a toffee-crisp flavoured coffee and extra large chocolate cookie. I enjoyed the long descent towards Revelstoke and although I’d previously thought to stop here I decided to continue on and enjoy the evening sunshine while cycling around the upper part of the Shuswap Lakes. Eventually arriving at the next ‘big’ town (Sicamous) I was relived to find a small Best Western Motel and collapsed into reception pleading for a room. The receptionist was quite surprised when I said I’d ridden from Lake Louise that day and seeing my tired state gave me a ‘management upgrade’ to a larger room on the ground floor where I could easily keep my bike. It had been a long day; I’d been out for a total time of 14hrs, rode for 12hrs at an average speed of 15.5 and covered 187miles, longest I’d ever ridden in one day. The hotel’s ‘hot-tub’ sounded good but when I realised I had nothing to wear in the tub I decided on the more discreet option of beer, steak and an early night.
Day 3 and various parts of me were beginning to hurt – shoulders, legs and between the legs! Wasn’t sure which was hurting most until I sat on the bike that morning for the first time, ouch! However, I got the legs working again and set off at a steady pace along the lakeside planning to get a few miles in before breakfast. I passed through Salmon Arm and didn’t fancy the usual Macs, Wendys, A&W and Dairy Queen deciding to ride on to find a more biker friendly place. Found it down towards ‘Sorrento’ (was I in Italy now?) and had a huge plate of eggs, bacon and Swiss cheese on an English muffin and all covered in home made hollandaise sauce – I was stuffed but it kept me going at a good pace for the next few hours! I reached Kamloops just after lunch having averaged nearly 17mph for the 85miles. Into ‘Tim Horton’s’ for a cream-cheese bagel, chocolate donut and French-vanilla flavoured coffee. Passing time on the road earlier I’d been reading all the ads on the billboards and having seen Tim H’s ‘Iced Cappuccino’ many times I decided I had to try one. However, they were quite surprised when I asked if I could have my water- bottle filled with iced cappuccino but didn't hesitate when I told them I was heading off up the hill out of Kamloops towards Merritt, they knew what I was in for!
Storm clouds were brewing and there was thunder and lightening overhead but no rain, at least not yet. I left the storm behind me as I pedaled up the hill heading south along the Coquihalla Highway. This is a fairly new road built as a direct link to connect Kamloops to Vancouver and traces a route across high mountain terrain for most of the way. After the initial steep climb out of Kamloops I was faced with a continuous series of further climbs for the next 3 hours which eventually took me to a height of 1240m, slurps of iced cappuccino at the top of each hill was my incentive to keep going. Along the way I spotted another approaching storm and luckily found shelter under the only road bridge for 40 miles whilst the deluge passed by. However, it may have stopped raining but the road was now virtually underwater and I was soon soaked from the road spray off the bike and passing trucks. The final descent into Merritt was welcome and dried me out somewhat although I was still rather damp as I rode in to the Ramada Inn looking for a room. ‘Not much left’ said the receptionist except for a Jacuzzi room………………. So, after a huge meal of Chicken burger and salad followed by Bumbleberry pie and ice-cream, I collapsed into the Jacuzzi to try and ease my aching muscles. Having never had a room with my own Jacuzzi I was making the most of it but probably stayed in too long as it took me a while to cool down afterwards Total for the day was 140miles at an average of 14.4 overall, last section had slowed me down considerably..
Quick breakfast next day at 7am, nowhere else to eat on next section and away up another hill out of Merritt. By now , after a total of 443 miles I was feeling rather tired and was not particularly looking forward to another long session of hill reps. However, having ascended the first climb the road across the tops was more even than the previous day with only one more significant climb on route. As I approached the highest point of this section it started to rain and I was rather wet as I passed the Coquihalla summit after 45 miles. The next 30 miles were a delight, virtually all downhill and it had stopped raining. The first section off the top was the steepest and I was speeding down at over 40mph keeping to the main part of the road but wary of trucks coming up behind. However, it was my turn to pass them and I sped past one thinking I was going to hit 50mph but didn’t quite make it, max speed I reached was 49.1 mph. I sped through an avalanche tunnel without my lights on but it was well lit and not many cars were passing me anyway! I neared the bottom of the hill after just over an hour and unfortunately had to pedal downhill into a headwind for the last few miles but I was near the end of my ride so I wasn’t concerned.
I was mighty glad to see my friend Calvin who lives in Vancouver and had driven out to avoid me having to ride the last section through busy suburbs and into a strong headwind – I may not have got all the way to the sea but felt that 
75 miles on my last day was far enough!
So, was it worth doing? As I sit here on the plane traveling home it seems hard to believe that I actually rode 520 miles in 3.5 days but having to catch a flight home the day after finishing was quite an incentive to keep going. It was a bit of an endurance test and I certainly think that with another day or two to spare I could probably have planned a far better, and quieter, route. However, the weather, wildlife, magnificent scenery and of course belting down the last hill for 30 miles all contributed to a great experience.
Now, am I ready for the Etape du Tour in two weeks time? Well.
As a final note you might be interested to know how I went at the Etape on July 11 th.
The route was 110miles from Mourenx to Pau (stage 16 of the Tour) taking in the Col d’Ichere (675m), Col de Marie-Blanque (1035m) and the Col d’Aubisque (1677m).
There were 7885 starters at 7am on a cool morning but by later in the day we were all slogging up big hills in temperatures of 34 degrees. However, I felt good and pushed hard reaching the top of the Aubisque after 5 hours which just about put me in reach of a gold standard time of 6hrs 53mins, another 45miles away in Pau. I latched on to some big groups and kept up a steady 20-30mph and was well on for a gold until we hit the last few miles which included a cat 4 climb which slowed the pace for next 20mins and I watched the minutes tick away as I continued to race toward Pau.
I finished in 6hrs 57mins and was pleased with my time but obviously disappointed not to get a gold standard. There were 7242 finishers, fastest time was 5.22, I was 1677 overall and 271 st in my age group.
I watched the tour riders over the same route a couple of days ago, it was won in 4.38!
It seemed like a good idea in September 2003 to do the Etape du Tour -a stage of the ‘Tour de France’ open to keen amateurs to “have a go”.
In October the tour route was announced and the Etape stage was to be Stage 10 of the 2004 Tour de France, and the profile was given out. At that point the alarm bells should have sounded as Wayne Jones who had thought of doing the Etape said “s*d that” at a club evening in Mochdre - after seeing the profile! Anyway £200 went off to Baxter Tours and it was on the turbo in the garage all winter with videos of previous Tours as company. In the words of my wife “Sad, Sad man”.
A few longish rides through winter, then from March onwards some seriously stupid rides of 130 miles, 110 miles etc, taking in as many hills as possible. Luckily I had the company of John Harvey - who was in training for an ‘End to End’ epic - we shared a common goal in wanting to do big distances and lots of hills.
(Thanks John for giving me a good pasting up every hill in North Wales!)
A pleasant spin off from all this training of course was breaking PB’s in the weekly Club Time Trials and holding my own road racing Tli, etc. The downside was breaking a stem, and breaking the bottom bracket, hitting the road at 18 mph (twice!) OUCH! (oh well; That’s life!).
All too soon the 8 th July came round and it was off to Knutsford Services to catch the coach to Paris. Next day, Friday, to the start town of limogues. On Saturday it was Sign on, get the transducer and all the freebies, followed by a short ride of 20 miles to loosen up.
Sunday 11 th July 2004 “E day”
Alarm goes at 04.30 – breakfast at 5am !! Get changed, check everything then off into town, approx 20 minutes, in the dark along with thousands of other cyclists heading for the start. In the start pens for 06.00, and wait for the start at 06.30am.
Its hard to describe what 8500 cyclists looks like all down the main street, packed in ready for the off, looking around there was every type of top spec bike within 10 feet of you. I was number 5445 and the rest of the Baxter’s crowd had similar numbers, so we were about half way down the street – which is about a mile long!
After the ‘longest’ 30 minutes of my life, the bikes in front of us suddenly started to move and we where off. I had a cunning plan, which I deployed at the start. There were two young lads in our group who rode “Elite class & 1 st Cat” and they had made no secret that they were ‘on a mission’. As anyone who has ridden with me knows ‘wheel sucking’ comes naturally to me even when folk are giving me serious verbal, so when the “Surf Dudes” (blonde, tanned etc) took off I was on their wheels.
The first three miles were a bit of a blur going out of the town, needless to say following an Elite rider as he carved his way through a twitchy peloton was an “interesting” experience! At least most of the abuse was in French and I had to smile after a mile as I looked back to see at least four French wheel suckers on MY wheel!
After 3 miles I had to concede that the pace was far too fast and decided to settle back into my own rhythm with the general masses – by the way, that Elite lad, Jules Birks, went on to be 68 th overall out of 8500! (if only I could have stayed on his wheel for another 147 miles)
Riding was easy and the weather pleasant, up over rolling county side, on completely closed roads it was possible to be always on someone’s wheel traveling at between 22 - 26 mph It was actually a little eyrie to be riding with so many cyclists, there was very little conversation as due to the number of competitors you had to concentrate hard on bike position, other riders etc. After about 30km the field started to thin out slightly - that is to say the constant stream stayed over towards the right whilst quicker riders over took on the left.
At 39km the road turned left at what seemed to be another rolling up hill but a sign said “Summit 8km” - hey presto we were on our first 4 th Cat climb - this was like going up Llanrwst Hill for 5 miles. This, the first of nine “Category” hills on the day, was knocked off with relatively fresh legs and enthusiasm, however, I was a little concerned I had used my 27 gear so early on. At the top of the hill there were hundreds of people clapping, cheering and shouting encouragement - it wasn’t hard to dream a little of being a pro-rider!
Of course after every hill there is a plus - the descent ! -and I suddenly found there was one advantage being on the heavy side and having ridden motorbikes for 30 years - going down hill on closed roads, with dry condition at high speed was Fantastic as was over taking hundreds of French riders. At the end of a 6 mile descent the roads got a bit narrow but with good road surface, people here splitting up into very large groups 50-100 riders moving at various paces. You just jumped on the back of a group that suited you.
At 60km I was riding along totally relaxed with one such group doing about 25 mph riding in two long lines when disaster struck. The guy in front suddenly drifted off the road onto the gravel, panicked and over corrected his steering, the front end tucked under and down he went 3 feet in front of me! As he rolled along the ground I thought “Sh*t, over the bars AGAIN”. As I hit his legs I must have pulled up on the bars and there were two bumps (his legs!). I was still on the bike and seemed to be OK! I glanced back to see the fallen rider still rolling and causing carnage in the peloton. To my left was another rider who had swerved and just missed his head - he shrugged his shoulders - so did I and we carried on, ‘C'est la vie!’
Things quickly got back to normal and we started another long, long climb, which seemed to go on for ever. The first feed station came at 100km and was a very welcome sight as I had finished both 2 litre bottles of liquid, and had eaten most of my energy gels ‘the knock’ was looming. At the feed station my average speed was 19.1 mph -well on target for “Gold”, so I decided to grab food and water and get going.
The feed station was in a Supermarket car park at Egletons, the scramble of approx 1000 riders all trying to grab liquid, energy gels, bananas etc, as quickly as possible was chaotic to say the least. I dumped my bike in the middle of the car park and headed to one of the many benches to stock up – reasoning that with so many Treks, Carbon Looks, Pinerellos, Colnagos there, my old Decathalon was in no danger of going missing! After 10 minutes or so I was off again, feeling totally refreshed and ready for more hills.
The next 10-15 miles were a bit of a high point as it was all slightly down hill on really smooth roads and very fast. After yet another climb followed by a steep twisty descent we were reminded about the dangers of high speed: going up to a series of bends the Gendarmes had put cones out and were shouting warnings. As we went round the corner there were paramedics seeing to about 4 fallen riders, none of them looked healthy - badly lacerated faces, stretchers, back and neck braces etc (we later heard that one of these fallers was Tony Doyle the liverpool track star). This did focus the mind, and slowed me down, for at least 500 metres!
Next came what I thought, was the first REAL hill, well it was steep anyway. like all the hills it went on for around 5 miles. On all the climbs it was silent collective suffering, riders tended to bunch up riding within a couple of feet of each other, slogging up steep gradients, almost no conversation just the occasional crunching of gears. At the top of this hill was a small village, and I think the whole population had come out to cheer us on, a fantastic morale booster and very much appreciated!
At 158km (99 miles) the second feed station came in to view. My average speed had fallen to 17.6 mph –probably not good enough for a “Silver” but I was so tired at this point (and knew that the hardest 50 miles was still to come) I would be happy if I got a finish!
The next 50 miles were quite unbelievable, I had expected a really rough time on the big climbs and I got it. 26 miles up hill to start with, not really steep, but up hill all the way, a short descent then the big one, Pas de Peyrol (Puy Mary), 1589 metres, the last 5km being about the same gradient as Sychnant Pass! The descent off this hill has to be my best time EVER on a push bike: 17km of beautiful sweeping bends on smooth roads, sometimes 3 lanes wide, most of the time doing 40 mph up to a top speed of 52 mph EXCELLENT!
At 211km there was a real sting in the tail, a 1392 metre climb that went on for about 9km, during this last climb I suffered I mean REALLY SUFFERED (along with everyone else), and had to “dig deep” to keep the legs turning. It was halfway up this hill that I was over taken by Elvis! No, I wasn’t hallucinating it was a crazy Frenchman in an embroidered white shirt and an Elvis wig attached to his cycling helmet ?!?!
With immense relief I got to the summit of this last pull and relaxed, really appreciating the 7km descent, but it was short lived as I soon saw the road kicked upwards. My heart sank as the string of riders ahead began slogging up another hill. Actually it only went up about a mile but what a B*****d!
(That ‘Wild Wales feeling’- WOT.. another hill !!!!!!…)
At the top there was a French Farmer, spectating, he said something to me in French (?) I dropped CSE French! Was it desperate clutching at straws? had he really said “no more hills, all down hill” ? Thankfully that’s the way it turned out. I stopped for a quick pee, jumped back on the bike, felt the wind on my back, the sun on my face and was off. With only 30km to go I was now on a mission myself.
Barring a major, major disaster, I was going to finish the Etape.
This elation combined with the descent gave me my ninth “2 nd Wind” of the day and I blasted towards a group of about 40 riders up front. I didn’t take long to catch them and went straight to the front tucking in behind a massive guy who was cruising at 27-30 mph After sitting behind the human French Derney for 5km I felt that I should take a turn on the front, some others had come through. I put my head down moved to the front, pointed at my back wheel and proceeded to “give it some”! Checking after 2 minutes I had to do a double take. I was at least 60 metres up the road ahead of them, now in a slight cross-wind.
Common sense prevailed (for once), and I decided it was probably not wise to go it alone, so I backed off and drifted back to the group, pushing my way in behind the “Tank” again. This time, when I went through I went a bit easier but again started to go off the front. I was just weighing up going it alone when a little Frenchman with white hair and beard, in his late 50s early 60s, appeared and began overtaking the whole group. I still don’t know if he’d been part of the group or had caught us up, but he was traveling considerably quicker.
This was it, with a quick sprint I was on his wheel and now we were really traveling, eyeballs out, through and off, chain-gang stuff, with a great tailwind and favourable gradient. 30 mph constant speed. A quick glance back after 4 minutes confirmed that we were the only two daft beggars prepared to go. At this pace the 20km, 15km and 10km to go, marker boards seemed to come and go by quickly.
No words were spoken but there was a mutual appreciation for the work that we were each doing, made even more satisfying by blasting past large groups and some single riders - so quickly that they didn’t or couldn’t take our wheel. It’s at this point I must point out that during the whole day it was very easy to dream a little:- that I was now a pro-rider in “Le Tour” for real, with the crowds cheering and all the banners ready for the actual Stage in 4 days time.
At the 5km to go marker, we entered the outskirts of St-Flour and the dream took on a new dimension, wide empty roads, crowd control barriers, roundabouts all shut off to normal vehicles, my French friend and I really motoring. There weren’t massive crowds but the few spectators looked up and shouted “Allez, allez” which only encouraged my already overactive fantasy. I was now - Eric Dekker - Jalabert - Armstrong - ullrich - Coppi - Merx - a combination of all my Tour heroes rolled into one AND I was flying! At 3km I turned to my French omrade, sat up and said “Merci beaucoup” gesticulating about the work we had done and he returned my thanks. Then with a rye smile I said “Au revoir” put my head down and buried myself for around 40 seconds, I glanced back seriously expecting to see him on my wheel – but he wasn’t there.
Suddenly the 1km board was in front of me, the crowd was now quite large and at the sight of a maniac giving it all they cheered, shouted and clapped spurring me on to new depths. A roundabout loomed, a quick left turn and 400 metres down the road was the FINISH. Thousands of people lined this final few metres (waiting for friends and family members no doubt) when they saw a daft Welshman ( in Club shirt), out of the saddle sprinting, McEwan style (still dreaming) for the line: a massive cheer went up and they banged on the advertising boards too, yelling “Allez, Allez, Allez”.
You can only imagine what this cheer did to an old hallucinating (?) - endorphin fuelled maniac: this was it! he sprint of my life! YES to win the stage…!!!!
About halfway down the straight amongst hysterical cheering I thought for a moment that I may have overcooked it as the back wheel did two big skips causing me to back off very slightly (oh how they would have REALLY cheered if I’d dumped it on the last 50 metres!). As I screamed up to the line at 30 mph I could see about five marshals in Hi-Vis jackets waving wildly at me to slow down. The reason being, there was only 20 metres “run-off” before the huge crowd of stopped riders!
Drastic braking was now a necessity, I crossed the line and managed to stop just in time, then slumped over the handlebars trying to get my breath back. I was euphoric:- I’d completed the hardest day of cycling of my life (so far), AND I’d won the Stage!!! (Well… 2951 st out of 6555 Finishers, is what the official Velo result shows). It look about 4 minutes for me to recover my breath and realise that I still had to cross the TIMING liNE. I missed out on a Silver by 9 minutes but C'est la vie! I had done what I set out to do – finish the Etape du Tour. The 2004 event is widely acknowledged to have been the hardest course for many years (over 2000 competitors didn’t finish this year).
Everyone who finished in my opinion is a hero. (I wonder what time Elvis did…)
The high from completing the Etape helped me through the next few days watching the true “Kings of the Road” competing in the Le Tour – I could hardly walk and sitting down was ‘uncomfortable’ ( ‘nuf said!). That buzz is still keeping me motivated 2 months on.
If you get the chance – GO FOR IT, don’t wait. Go for it, start training NOW, & DO IT next year, July 2005.
FAQ (frequently asked questions!)
I’ve just finished the 2004 Wild Wales, which was fairly tough but only 90 miles. Add another 60 miles of the same, and you will begin to get the idea.
How do you enter?Yes. But not next year! 2006 will be my next Etape as I’ve promised Joy and the girls I’ll not do it next year: the training, lots of long rides fly in the face of ‘family life’. If you are single however you should be doing it every year.
The route of the tour is announced at the end of October/beginning of November (this year: 1 st November 2004). As soon as this is published the stage for the Etape is chosen. The profile and entry form is then available on the internet.
I chose to go with “Graham Baxter Tours” as your entry is virtually guaranteed if you enter early with them (I didn’t want to train for 9 months only to be unsuccessful in the entry draw). You can enter independently, but Chris Lord’s independent entry wasn’t confirmed until March this year. If you go with Baxter’s it is vital that you choose a package that has a Hotel in the start town.
If anyone wants any further information do get in touch, but allow plenty of time as I’ve been accused of talking about the Etape three times longer than it took me to complete it!
Mike Burns
Aah well…anyway about the Wild Wales this year
We started at 07.30 at John’s …… that’s another epic story…
Sitting at home the other day listening to the wind and rain, I started day dreaming about my trip in April next year to a training camp.
I have been going to Majorca cycling for about the last ten years and I cannot think of a better place to cycle in late winter and spring. The northern half of the island I like the best.
Just imagine riding with a group of like minded people – many old friends and racing acquaintances, small villages with cafes in small squares that tourists can’t reach by car the owner often bringing out segments of fresh oranges even before you have ordered your coffee and al
mond cake. The trees in blossom, the smell of orange groves, the strawberries in the fields - fantastic! Even the sight of the shepherds and the smell of his sheep all have an appeal. All this takes place in shorts, in the sunshine on good roads with very little traffic – dream on!!
With all these thoughts in mind for those intending or thinking of a training camp I have put together a few tips and advise I have picked up during my visits to the island over the past years.
All this might seem like teaching your ‘granny to suck eggs’ to our more experienced riders, but I hope will be of some benefit and interest to our new and younger riders
Enjoy
the experience of riding on the ‘wrong side of the road’ it is very easy and relaxed and the local people are very happy to have you on their roads – it’s the tourists you have to watch out for.
Remember to take care of yourself when you return home, you have probably ridden longer and perhaps harder than ever before – four hundred plus miles in a week are possible and your body will be vulnerable to illness. Enjoy and benefit from all that you have worked for in your training camp.
If anyone wishes to know more about routes, rides, café stops etc in Majorca please get in touch
John Smith
Although the Rhos is primarily a racing club and with a few honourable exceptions a time trialling oriented club there are other spheres of our sport which do not , for various reasons attract a great deal of attention..
Certainly there are a small number of mountain bikers and it is always satisfying to learn of their exploits. But there are only rare participants in Audax events and it must be very many years since club members rode a Cyclo-Cross . 
Leaving aside the rather eccentric specialism like BMX and Cyclo Polo there remains a once hugely popular activity which still has great many devotees and which I used to enjoy in the rather dim and distant past.
I refer to Touring not the very worthy bash of end to end or the ultra tough Etape but the relatively relaxed and undemanding ride over days or weeks, without pressure to achieve any particular goal or to “clock up” a minimum mileage each day.
The tourist can spend a few days in mid Wales a few weeks on the continent, or many weeks or even months on the grand adventure tours to the far corners of the world. He or she may camp (not for me), hostel, B&B, Travel Lodge, or and particular on the continent, use the may small and cycle friendly hotels where it is not unusual to be invited to “bring the Velo into the Hotel monsieur”
Club members who have never considered going on a tour may like to give the idea some thought. There are countless options but worthy of consideration are Ireland where you will be welcomed by wonderful people and may get wet; France a huge cyclists friendly country with good food; Switzerland beautiful but rather expensive; Italy for good weather but look for quiet roads and of course within the UK mid Wales, Devon and Cornwall, the Lake District and not forgetting Scotland which is a great deal bigger than many people realise: take waterproofs and midge repellent!
Tourists always come home with lots of good stories, mostly true but they tend to get better as the years go by. One or two of mine:-
Approaching Porlock Hill in Devon. I thought I was fit and could not understand the silly grins on the faces of the country bumpkins sitting on a wall, at a corner which concealed what lay in waiting. I was on a 46X20 with a heavy saddle bag and it took only a few yards for total humiliation and I had difficulty in walking the damn thing.
Cycling along a beautifully surfaced and wide road in Italy. Two police motor cyclists stopped me and in furious Italian (and Italians know how to be furious) threatened me with all sorts of terrible consequences for riding on the Auto Strada Del Sol which is an Italian equivalent of the M1
I pleaded a poor understanding of their language (true) and that I was british and lost (also true). We shook hands they examined my bike for campag gears and smiling escorted me to the nearest road suitable for a mad man.
Reaching the summit of the Simplon Pass from the Swiss side and meeting a German cyclist coming up from the Italian side. He spoke better English than I and said that he was heading home to Munich from turkey. He had only one leg and when I foolishly asked him how he had lost a limb he looked at the sky and said RAF.
Stopping at a cottage style café in a remote part of Eire. I was with a small group of friends from eh Rhos and the now redundant Bangor RC. The rather beautiful young lady who served us said “are you lot English?”
We replied that we were Welsh which was true for some of us. A few minutes later a much older man appeared looked at us earnestly and said “I believe you boys are Welsh?” he paused then said “How are the English treating you?”
The egg and chips were good and I suspect would have been more expensive if we had been from Manchester.
Do please consider Touring you will then be able to bore others with tales of your experiences but a word of warning. You will return home super fit but not necessarily super fast. The miles in your legs will have built up your endura
nce but you should then spend a week or two working on your speed. Thereby hangs another tale of 1,000 miles in 10 days of Alpine touring followed by getting dropped on the first hill in a road race six days later.
The Adidas Transalp Challenge is an 8 day mountain bike stage race starting in Mittenwald, Germany and finishing at Lake Garda, Italy – with the small problem of the Alps in between the two. The event organisers label it the hardest mountain bike race in the world. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t - but it is tough. The statistics speak for themselves: 8 days, 666 km (for the benefit of you roadies, as a very general yardstick I reckon doing an off road kilometre is the equivalent of doing an on road mile), 23,000 metres of climbing, 19 Alpine Passes, 4 different countries. It’s raced in teams of two, but unfortunately my partner pulled out with a stomach complaint a week before the event. The event organisers hastily ‘matched me up’ with another entrant also without a partner – an Aussie doctor called Will – who I would meet the night before the event.
The train journey from Munich to Mittenwald the previous day had whet my appetitie for the type of Alpine scenery I would become accustomed to over the next 8 days. The people of Mittenwald, a stunning little Bavarian town, had come out in huge numbers to cheer the 1000 riders out of the town. The Town Mayor led the race off through the neutralised start (professionals at the front, weekend hackers like Will and I at the back).
A large sound system at the start line played AC/DC’s ‘Highway to Hell’, which I thought was quite apt.
The town’s streets were lined with hundreds of people cheering us on and the atmosphere really was amazing. Two things stick in my mind from the first day: Firstly, riding the cruel second climb of the day which just went on and on and on in temperatures topping 34˚C. Absolute hell. I would get used to these. Secondly, arriving at Imst to be greeted by cheering locals and the tannoy system announcing your name: “representing Wales, Jonny Cawley”. Superb.
With another large crowd to cheer us we left Imst. A two hour 1400m climb greeted us at the start of the race – starting out on nice smooth tarmac, the track soon gave way to gravel which was so steep that I had to concentrate on not wheel spinning the bike. Stick it in the granny gear and grind your way up the hill. It was clear that I was a bit faster than my partner Will – this was fine, it meant I had a bit of time at the top of the climbs to enjoy the spectacular scenery. We arrived at the ski resort of Ischgl and headed straight for the masseurs, which were fully booked. I therefore opted for the electrolysis treatment. Not convinced this works judging by my aching limbs at the pasta party that night.
A massive and stupidly steep first climb saw us reach snow at 2,700m. It just went on and on. Will didn’t look too happy! Mountain bikers snaked up the mountain as far as the eye could see. After that, the day got a lot easier. It was a nice feeling getting waved through passport control as police held back cueing cars as we entered Switzerland. Our pasta party that night was on top of a mountain – although we went up in ski lifts not on mountain bikes! The view as we ate our food (pasta again!) that evening was breathtaking.
Just for a change we started the day with a long climb! Approximately 1000m straight from the start line. There seemed to be cows everywhere – the ringing of their swiss bells coupled with my fatigue made it feel like some strange acid trip. The view at the top was amazing though. A fast descent through stunning Alpine meadows followed – just like something from The Sound of Music! Italian carabinieri waved us through passport control and we entered a very hot Italy. Chainganging through vineyards was a nice change from grinding up hills. However, a 1200m climb after 83km saw things back to normal – not what my legs wanted though. Near the top of the climb was a small farm with some kids handing out water. Absolutely parched, I was unbelievably grateful. I thanked them profusely in Italian. I was later told that it was still German that was spoken in these parts.
‘Bore da boyo’! shouted the rider from Team Giant South Africa half way up the 1400m first climb. Throughout the week the atmosphere among riders was amazing, and my Welsh dragon and Rhos-on-Sea top attracted comments from many people who claimed to have Welsh descent or had just visited the country at some point in the past. The atmosphere among riders was an incredible part of the entire event. It was a truly international field with riders from 27 different countries. Maybe a bit of a generalisation, but the Germans can’t descend anything remotely tricky!
Another hot day in the saddle. At last though I felt we were getting close to the promised land of Lake Garda. Kaltern was a small but stunning village and is somewhere I will definitely go back to. We missed the pasta party that night and opted for pizza and a couple of (well, 4) beers. Lovely. Early night though, as tomorrow will be tough.
The longest day and one I had been dreading from the moment they sent us the routes. Climbing from 200m up to 2,000m early in the stage was certainly no pushover. A bit too much tarmac today for the purist, although to be honest I think most of us were glad of the smooth surface. Conditions were extremely hot. I was very grateful for the two Belgians who stood by a stream pouring cold bottles of water over cyclists heads declaring it was a ‘gift from Belgium’ – strange, but gratefully received. An 800m climb after 95km almost finished me off, but I didn’t care. We were almost there. I crossed the finish line and a guy from Northampton who I had spoken to earlier in the race handed me a beer. Top bloke.
My girlfriend and parents had come over from Wales to see me cross the finish line, so it was very apt that they brought the weather with them – the first and only day of rain.
The last day was good with some brilliant technical descents (spoiled somewhat by the ever careful Germans!). Crossing the finish line was a bit anti-climactic. I had been dreaming of jumping into Lake Garda to cool off after a tough few days. Instead I was cold and wet and wanted my hotel room and a bath. I cracked open a bottle of champagne (thanks Mum and Dad) on the finish line and quickly made my way to the hotel room, to drink coffee and watch Lance annihilate the opposition in the penultimate stage of the Tour.
The presentation for this event was almost as epic as the event itself. The professionals received their prizes first – the T-Mobil team winning it this year in a stupidly fast time of 29 hours 21 minutes 09 seconds. A bit faster than my sedate 52 hours – but I finished it nonetheless.
Every single competitor had their moment of fame when they were called up on stage to receive their finishers t-shirt and medal. 350 men’s pairs started – 260 finished and we were 214 th. Lance Armstrong won’t lose any sleep, but I was quite chuffed.
verall, it’s an amazing event and I would recommend it to anyone. Stunning scenery (surely the best way to see the Alps), impeccable organisation, amazing atmosphere and a proper physical challenge.
I’ll be back as well – maybe not next year but very soon. I seriously think I could do it in less than 40 hours – which may squeeze me into the top 50. Entries are accepted in January and it fills up pretty quick. bring it on.