Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Tour of Wessex 2007 Day 2 - The Ugly - Piddling down






The Cerne Abbas Giant. The significance of this plus why I was pedalling down Piddle as it was pxxxing will become obvious later.


































Another day, another ride. Sunday turned out to be the opposite of Saturday in a number of respects:


Saturday: Meticulously planned ride, 30 gears and lots of gizmos, lovely weather, much of time riding in bunch, effort to spare on the hills, never passed, relax and unwind at the finish, comfortable ride back to the hotel.


Sunday: No real plan other than to finish, 1 gear no gizmos (even HRM bust), terrible weather, most of ride solo, max+ effort on hills, often passed, no time at the finish, nightmare ride back to the hotel.


Still in two key ways the days were the same as I achieved the goals that I set my self and they were both rides I won't forget for a long time....


That said much of the detail of what happened Sunday is now lost in a hazy blur of cold, damp and pain. I got up on time but dawdled a bit over my Jordans, partly because I did not feel a rush to start on the dot at 7, given I was not chasing a time. But also because a swift look out of the window showed the threatened rain had already arrived.


Eventually I emerged from the hotel and set about moving various bits and pieces from one bike to another. Once done I pedalled away and uphill. Fortunately I thought to check my bike computer was working as it wasn't. This give me a brief moment of hesitation. I had a spare back at the hotel but that would mean going back downhill then up again. I decided that the trip was worth it as I was pretty sure that at some stage later I would want to know how far I had to go.


This proved to be my second best decision of the day. I headed back, picked up my spare and set of again. Bizarrely during my brief return to the hotel I encountered someone else leaving in bike gear, I presumed to do ride as well. He was not as hard/daft as me as he was driving to the start, but he was a lot more optimistic as he was wearing sunglasses!


So I started again, now well behind schedule and fell further behind as I battled the wind/rain and hills to get to the event. I eventually arrived at the start just in time to hear the starter announce that the group expecting to finish in 7 1/2 hours should commence. I had no clue how long the ride was going to take, but this seemed like a sensible target. Certainly the riders who assembled looked, (how shall I say?) a lot less "athletic" than the bunch I had been with the previous day. So I set off with them. It soon turned out that despite my rudimentary bike I was a lot quicker than them so I soon found myself cycling alone. After a few miles I was overtaken by someone (I guess another late arrivee) on a flat section. This turned to a hill and I found I was catching up with him and we rode together for a while. I was a bit chuffed that he spotted my single gear and offered a few words of congratulations. We came to another flat section and as we sped off I told him to carry on as I did not want to try to keep pace as I knew that might risk overtaxing myself early.


I continued riding. I found that I was overtaking quite a few other cyclists on the hills and myself being overtaken (by those I had passed and other late arrivers) on the flats. This made a sort of sense. On the climbs I was basically using raw power to churn along, I had no real option given I was using a 48x16 gear. (When I looked at the climbs later they were done in pretty much the the same time/VAM as those on the Saturday).


All went well until Cerne. Now this place is famous for a hill carving, more famous for what is carved (see top of blog and attached for more http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cerne_Abbas_Giant



Pretty much as soon as the climb started it was clear it was going to be a steep one. I kept the pedals turning but every rotation was harder than the one before. After a while I had another problem, I was going so slowly that it was becoming hard to keep upright. Rather than a smooth stroke my pedalling action had become "grunt, push right leg down hard, wobble, teeter, regain balance, grunt push left leg down hard, wobble, think about to fall, regain balance, grunt, push right leg down hard...." repeat.

My "pace" had now gone below walking speed. I had a terrible decision to make, one of the worst any cyclist has. Was I going to get of and push? I decided I had to. I thought I might make it up the hill. But more slowly than if I walked and leaving nothing in the tank for the rest of the day or tomorrow. Pride was one thing but this had now become a question of survival.

Deciding was one thing, doing was another. It actually took some pretty good timing on the greasy surface to unhook myself from the bike and put feet to ground. Even so I managed to tweak a calf muscle in the process. And that was far from the end of the matter. There was still the hill to climb. Doing this in cycle shoes pushing a bike was a nightmare. Fortunately only a brief one as I made the top in 5-10 minutes

Tellingly I cant see from my bike computer when I stopped cycling and started walking. I can see though that the gradient up this hill got into the 20-25% range. Clearly the guy the day before had been lying.

When I got to the top I was still feeling guilty about walking. My guilt was only increased when I looked down the road and saw that lots of others were doing the same. I had a feeling I had started a chain reaction, everyone was desperate not to get off their bikes or at least not be the first to crack. I had cracked and that had pushed others over the edge as well.

Still no time for recriminations. There were still another 100km to go. So I got back on the bike and started pedalling down the Piddle.

Among the many unfortunate things about Sunday was the fact that had the weather been OK it would have been a great route. Following the nightmare out of Cerne it was downhill to the the sea. This took us down the delightfully named Piddle valley, complete with the villages Piddletrenthide and Piddlehinton. Finally, naturally, was the quite appropriately named Puddletown, which is what you get at the bottom of a valley down which Piddle runs.

While pedaling down the Piddle I was building up a bit of speed and overtaking a few bikes again. At one stage I was myself overtaken by a couple of bikes and decided to latch on to see if I could make up some time, reasoning the faster I went the sooner I would be home and (hopefully) dry. This worked very well. By contrast to the previous day they seemed happy to have someone join them to share the load, especially as we were going into a bit of a head wind. We went some 20km at around 30kph, good for the conditions, before they stopped at a feed station.

I pushed on, eventually reaching the far south of the route at Lulworth where we headed off over the army ranges to Corfe Castle. It really was a shame the weather was so bad, the views otherwise would have been spectacular. Traversing the ranges was a bit tough, with some short sharp climbs. However I was not going to stop again. My resolution was bolstered when someone going passed noticed my single gear, said "respect" and offered a high five. This I returned (albeit with a bit of difficulty as we were heading uphill at the time).

Corfe Castle http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corfe_Castle marked the halfway point of the days ride. On reaching it we turned north for home, helped by a wind on our backs. It was round about at this point that my ride became one of survival. I was hugely relieved that I decided to go back and get a working bike computer because this now became the only thing that kept me going. Once I got past halfway I kept myself going by breaking the ride down into chunks, setting targets, the first of which was 100km then 120km. All I focused on was my LCD display, everything else went by the by.

As a result I can recall nothing about the ride back. This goes to show how hard it must have been, as I am quite good at recalling the details of rides (if hazy as to the actual directions I took).

What I can remember is eventually getting back alone to the finish line. I had no clue or interest in my time or position. The small tented village housing this information, along with food and drink seemed a long way away over a very muddy field. As I debated whether it was worth the slog over a very worrying thought started to loom in my mind. I knew how tired I was. I knew I was riding a fixed gear bike. And I knew how steep the hill going back to the hotel was. I became afraid, very afraid that I was not going to be able to get up that hill. I supposed there may be other routes back but I did not know them and if attempted they were likely to get me very seriously lost.

Then it occurred to me. Before the climb was the small village of Marston and in this village I had passed a pub. A pub meant the chance of some food but even more important some beer. I knew I would need both to get me home. So I turned my back on the tents and started the journey back, arriving at the pub a few miles later.

I parked up my bike. Just before I went in I hesitated. I could imagine how I looked and was worried that the landlord may not appreciate a soaking wet and filthy lycra clad cyclist dripping all over his floor. I decided I did not care, my need was urgent.

I needn't have worried. The welcome I got at the pub was fantastic. The locals wanted to know how I had arrived at their door and were suitably impressed by how far I had ridden (even more so when they found out that this was just one of three days). They suggested I try some Cornish beer, Tribute. The name seemed appropriate so I order a pint and some peanuts. When the glass came I realised just how cold I was. My fingers had lost all sense of feeling. I could see they were still attached to my hand but they had lost all sensation. They looked and felt like rolls of putty. Embarrassingly this meant I could not lift the glass, save by putting both palms against it and lifting it to my lips like a baby. But the beer tasted good. So I ordered another and waited for my limbs to warm up, while watching the finish of the Monaco GP and chatting to the people there. One was a postman, who told me he was used to riding his bike up the hills around and about and agreed the one to Sherborne was a bugger. With some drink inside me I started to think about food. Unfortunately I was too late for lunch, but luckily some roast potatoes appeared covered in gravy appeared on the bar. I helped myself and they had an immediate effect warming my insides.

I must have spent an hour or so there. Then I decided I had better move on, otherwise I would never get back to the hotel. When I went out I found the rain had pretty much stopped and the sky, if not exactly blue, was certainly a lighter shade of grey. I had a strange sense of deja vu to my terrible day in Belgium on my TDF. Similarly then I had been soaked, knackered and at the end of my tether. http://mr-miff-on-tour.blogspot.com/2006_05_01_archive.html

Similarly then a warm pub, beer and food had done the trick and got me started again.

Even so I don't recall how I got back to the hotel. But I did and sank gratefully into a big hot bath along with tea and the Sunday Telegraph. I phoned Mrs M from this haven of warmth and told her of my days various episodes, good and bad.

Followed this with another great meal. Beforehand in the bar I overheard some others who had gone through the same experience as me. They were debating whether to give the next day a miss and go home early and ended up deciding to do just that. I entertained no such thoughts. Even though opinions were divided about what the weather was going to bring I was sure I would do the next days ride. However I was in a bit of a quandary. I had trained for the weekend with the intention of reaching gold standard. However this required averaging 6 hours for the rides and I had pretty much given up hope of doing that after the events of the day. So I went to bed with no plan, other than getting up and seeing what the Monday would bring.

Tour of Wessex 2007 Day 1 - The Good
















Today turned out pretty well. I managed the most difficult part of the day (getting out of bed at 5.30), had my Jordans cereal, 3 cups of coffee and headed off. I forced myself to take it easy up the hill out of Sherborne. Nearing the start I got a bit worried as the ride there had taken a bit longer than planned and I was nearing the 7.00 start. I needn't have bothered as there was a lot of last minute confusion due to people picking up their registrations so the start was delayed by 15 minutes.

Riders set off in groups according to expected race time. First group was 5 hours. I was not up for this but when 5.30 group was announced I moved forward and started off. Timing for this event was best of the 3 sportives I have done. You have a tag on your ankle and just roll over a mat. Dead easy.

I was glad I had done the recce the day before as the first climb came as no surprise and allowed me to move up various groups until I found one that I felt was around my pace. I stuck with this group for the first 20km or so until we hit Alfreds Tower, the first climb of the day and the one with steepest pitches. I had a bit of luck here. My gearing was proving a bit tricky, especially changing down to the low chainring on my triple. I tried moving to this at the start of the climb but it would not budge. Luckily there was a brief flat section, just enough for me to unclip my right shoe and kick the chain over. Reengaged I set of and found the climb not too bad at all. My Powertap came in really useful as I used it to try and keep in the 300-350W range that I knew I could sustain for the expected duration of the climb. (Interestingly the stats I downloaded later showed I had averaged 316W(334WNorm) with a 5 minute peak of 337W(347WNorm), pretty much smack on target and pretty close to my 5 minute CP5 PB of 355W

At the top of the climb the group had thinned out a bit and there were just 6 of us left. We carried on as the route took us over a scary bit of gravel path past the front of Stourhead House. Lucklily my Vittorio Corsa KX tyres stood up to this test as they did everything else during the course of the weekend. (This was not the case for lots of other unfortunates, I think this event had the highest number of punctures I have yet seen).

Our group pretty much stuck together for quite a while. After a couple of hours I noticed my average watts so far were around 215W, much the same as that during my last 100mile training ride. So I knew I was in the right zone. Just short of 2 hours a couple of people went off the front of the group. This was as we were heading into Wells, start of the second big climb of the day. They headed up the hill and we followed. Again the Powertap was great and I kept up a steady pace hitting the top of the hill without too much difficulty. I then led the group in pursuit of the two ahead. One got away but we reeled the other one in and carried on to the second feedstop.

My policy for feedstops so far has been to ignore them as I carry enough food to keep me going and I dont like losing my rhythm. This is especially the case if the feedstop is, as often seems to be the case, at the end of one descent and the start of another. This was the case today. The rest of my group stopped put I pressed on, planning to take it easy for a few minutes to see if they or another group leaving the feedstop would catch me up. So I started climbing at not too hard a rate. Then I noticed that a lone cyclist was ahead of me. At my current rate of climbing I was keeping a pretty steady distance from him so I upped my rate a bit and started to close. After a while I caught him and followed up the hill, hoping we could work together as most of the rest of the course was downhill/flat.

However I got the impression he was a bit miffed to be caught and when we got to the top he put on several spurts I guess to get me off his back wheel. This did not work and I passed him a few times just to make the point that I had no problems keeping up. Then we came to Cheddar Gorge. I know, from later discussions, that the chap was local and he tried to use his local knowledge to leave me on the descent which I must admit was pretty hairy. However I was feeling pretty good and the bike was feeling solid as a rock. (Combination of the tyres and IT Sword bars). So I swooped and followed him around twist and turn, even overtaking a few cars as needed.

Eventually we got to the bottom. Due to traffic he got a lead of 20m or so on me and tried one final effort to pedal away. But I was feeling fine so closed the gap and at this time he pretty much accepted he was stuck with me. So we started to work together a bit, the more so as we spotted a small group ahead. We gave chase and eventually caught them as they slowed to follow a tractor. I was ahead and slowed to join them but the chap I was with saw this as a chance to leave us behind and sprinted past group and tractor. I sprinted to join him and this woke the group up and they joined us. Now we were quite a crew and we sped along happily to the finish.

I guessed my time to be around 5:25 which I was happy enough with. I felt fine with plenty still to give. My first point of call after the finish was the bike maintenance stand, very kindly furnished by Somerset County Council. I left my bike there requesting that my triple be fixed as I was sure I would have need of it over the next 2 days. I then headed for the refreshment tent to get lots of food inside me. Discussions there confirmed that tomorrow was going to be wet. So next stop was route organiser. I asked him how the Sunday course compared to Saturday. He said it would be easier, with nothing as steep as Alfreds Tower. This confirmed me in my decision to go single (NOTE: This info proved to be a lie).

I returned to the bike stand to get my bike. This had a new outer casing on the rear mech and a full set of gears that worked. All done for free!!! Many thanks Somerset (I felt a bit guilty that I would be spending all my money that weekend just over the border as Sherborne is in Dorset).

Having a working low gear made the ride up the steep hill back to the hotel easy. I returned to my room to find the Saturday DT waiting. So made a pot of tea , settled into a warm bath with my paper and phoned Mrs M to relay the days events.

Had yet another amazing meal (with extra pasta) and an early night.


Friday, May 25, 2007

Tour of Wessex 2007 - Prologue

So after many months the first major event of 2007 finally wound around last weekend on the late May bank holiday.

While my training had gone pretty well, albeit with a bit of a disruption due to a US trip and consequent inevitable cold, things took a turn for the worse in the week leading up to the event.

First I got an email from the organisers giving a start time of 07:00. This would mean an early rise of 05:30 to get breakfast & ride to the event. Not very nice.

Then I went to the dentists. Teeth were fine but the practice has installed a giant plasma screen showing 24 hour news. (Not sure of reasoning behind this, maybe hearing latest bad news from wherever is meant to take your mind of any upcoming pain. Still guess it makes a change from the ancient mags they have.) Anyway when the weather came up I got a bit depressed. Sunny now but inevitable forecast for a UK bank holiday was rain, lots of it, on Sunday especially. Oh and wind as well...

Now this was a bit of a double whammy
  • Firstly wind and rain are the bane of any cyclist. Most especially if you want to go fast. The wind means you have to get into and stick with a group. But the rain means this will entail spending 5-6 hours getting sprayed by water and road crap from the wheels ahead. Its a bit like being inside a washing machine except you come out filthy at the end.

  • Secondly my Roubaix is my pride and joy, especially with Powertap. I have heard mixed reviews of how it would react to 5-6 hours of rain and did not want to find out the hard way.

Thought about this during my dental exam and asked myself what was main purpose of doing tour. Going fast yes, but I really took up cycling again for the challenge. So I decided if the weather decided to do its worst over the weekend I would have a plan B.

This entailed taking along a second bike for wet weather use. Now this could have been my winter trainer but I thought it may be a bit of a laugh and more of challenge to stare adversity full in the face and take my single speed Langster instead. I really like riding this bike. Its almost the opposite of my Roubaix, aluminium, one gear (48x16) and no gizmos (though I do attach my Hac4). Since putting some 25c Conti 4 seasons its proved to be pretty bomb proof and I know I can do 100 miles on it as already have done this year.

So, in the time it takes to check your teeth, my mind was made up, Plan B was the Langster and to hell with trying for a super time. After all the event is meant to be fun....

So with this late decision made I packed Langster along with Roubaix, lots of clothes, cereal bars for the ride and cereal/milk for breakfast into the car and headed west Friday morning.

Friday had a number of pleasant surprises (and one unpleasant)....

Pleasant surprises first

  • The drive from Newbury to my hotel in Sherborne was very nice. The weather was sunny and the views of the English countryside superb. As a bonus you go past Stonehenge. And the whole trip is only 1.5 hours. So short in fact that I had to stop for a very agreeable lunch at a pub on the way there so as not to arrive too early.

  • Sherborne is in Dorset, a county I had never knowingly visited (apart from a brief stopover at Weymouth en return from France). The county is very picturesque and full of interesting stuff. Sherborne itself is a really pretty town http://www.sherbornetown.co.uk/

  • My hotel was the Eastbury http://www.theeastburyhotel.co.uk/ Now I chose this simply because it seemed close to the start/finish of the event (so I could cycle there/back). However when I turned up there I found I had lucked out. The hotel is comfortable, with a warm welcome and a beautiful garden and (important if you are a paranoid cyclist) good secluded secure parking at the rear. However its best feature is the food. This is simply sublime. In the course of 4 nights I had some of the tastiest food I have ever had. Everything was marvellous but the highlights were the simply sounding Assiette of Lamb (actually lamb presented in three very different and interesting ways) and that most basic of dishes: roast chicken. This latter was quite simply the tastiest chicken I have ever had. One measure of art is how it takes the most ordinary and makes you think about it. By this measure my meal was a work of art.

Now the unpleasant surprise. When I booked my hotel I simply looked at the distance from it to the event. It was around 8 miles which is the perfect sort of distance to get warmed up on the way there and warm down on the way back.

It never crossed my mind to check if this 8 miles was flat or not. Now that was a bit daft as around my neck of the woods if you travel 8 miles E-W things are pretty smooth but N-S will involve a climb or two.

Following my arrival I had planned a ride to find the route to the start, pick up my registration pack and then recce the first few km of the Saturday route. I did this and started to have a bit of a concern as I turned out of my hotel and the first road I encountered went up at 5%. My concerns continued as, after a brief blip, the road continued at 5% for 2 miles. Then there was a sharp downhill a pause and then a sharper downhill. I looked at my speedometer, saw I was doing over 40mph and got really concerned. Going this fast downhill meant a steep descent, one that would need to be tackled on the way back.

The graphic above shows the profile of the route (wish I had done this before the visit!). The return leg from the start meant a slog up a 10% hill then a freewheel to hotel. Hardly the best warm down route in the world. Unfortunately I had no map and so no way of seeing if an alternative existed.

Eventually I found the start point, picked up my pack and set off on the start of the Saturday route. I was glad I did as it started with a climb so I knew not to go mad from the gun. After doing an hour or sos riding I turned back and got lost. Eventually I found my route home though by a longer way than I had come.

Still the weather was nice, I had enjoyed the ride and was feeling fit. I had the first of many great meals and an early nights sleep.



Thursday, May 24, 2007

Average Power

Thought would find posts like this one all over the place but seem to be difficult to find. Anyway for the record at time of speaking here are my CP values (all real not normalised) just after my first time trial (24.11 riding Roubaix on drops) and just about to do Tour of Wessex.

Age 48, weight 73kg.

CP0.2 799W
CP1 519W
CP6 346W
CP12 332W
CP20 326W (done during time trial)
CP30 290W
CP60 266W
CP180 208W
CP300 192W (long ride first couple of hours 220W then dropping)

First Official Time Trial

Did first official time trial last night, actually managing to turn up in time..

Almost cheesed it as got to the start to find no-one there and no sign of anyone. Pottered up the A4 and had just about made my mind up to accept that I was in the wrong place when spotted a tandem who confirmed time trial was due to happen.

Eventually found the registration, being no. 27 of 27 to check in.

Warmed up and went out with plan to go out in 320W. Managed this and to my surprise managed even better on way back to complete in 325W average, giving a time of 24.11. Not bad for a first attempt and my target of breaking 24mins seems very much on as lost most of the missing 11secs on the start and cruise into the finish.

Final standing showed me 11th, winning time was 21.45 (so way to go for that, including getting a TT bike which I dont fancy at all)

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Saturday 3rd June La Trance>Rochefort Nice and easy in the sun

Distance 107 km
Time 4:48
Climb 182
Weather Sunny





After yesterdays exertions of various types today proved to be easy going. It was my second recovery day so I had a lie in and a long breakfast.

My first recovery day proved to be a bit too easy so I planned on doing a few more km this time but keep my heart rate nice and low. Rochefort, a large town 100km to the south, looked the ideal point to aim at so I set off with the intention of stopping there.

Over breakfast I decided to trust to luck and assume the need to buy some lip balm yesterday meant the sun was out to stay. So I decided to swap the lenses on my sunglasses from clear to dark. This proved to be the hardest thing I did all day as it took the best part of 30 minutes to wrestle the lenses into postion. I very sincerely hoped it was going to stay sunny for the rest of the trip...

As a similar mark of faith in the French weather I also dispensed with my arm warmers for the first time in my trip.

The route was flat as a pancake, perfect for an easy ride. While stopping for a quick call of nature a group of 5 French cyclists passed by. They were not going too quickly so it was quite easy for me to catch up with them and I passed a few pleasantries, then they waved adieu and put on a sprint. I don't think they were the fittest group of cyclists in the world as this breif period of speed petered out very quickly and I could quite easily have caught up with them again. However they had a distinct lack of road sense, weaving all over road and causing more than one car to take a late change of direction to avoid them.

I did not want to overtake them as this may have involved getting into a competition with them to stay ahead and I did not want to break my recovery day rule. So I stayed a safe distance behind, marvelling at their utter disregard for every rule of road safety.

Still this experience proved beneficial when we came to a rue barree. I was very happy to see the French contingent move aside the barriers blocking the road an cycle on. This probably explained why French workmen were used to seeing cyclists. The road barreed was long and straight and we did have a brief moment of excitement when a couple of motor bikes whizzed by, taking the opportunity of the deserted tarmac to see how far and fast they could pull a wheelie.

In following the group I actually missed my turning and ended up on a main N road. However proved to be a lucky missed turn of events as the road went straight to Rochefort and the wind was blowing straight behind me. So I motored along at over 20mph without my heart much getting over 110 bpm.

My luck continued in Rochefort. Being a big town I had not bothered to book a hotel in advance. I cycled around and stopped outside a hotel. The owner popped out and asked if I wanted to store my bike. This is the first time this has happened, so I said oui and he showed me a garage round the back. I then checked in and found the hotel (La Fayette) to be a real find. It was a basic hotel but just very well renovated with lots of real wood and small touches that made it a million miles away from being an Ibis despite costing less per night. It was also a non-smoking hotel. It had no restaurant but this was no problem as it was right in the centre of town with lots of restaurants nearby.

So very strongly recommended, details here.
http://www.hotel-lafayette-rochefort.fr/home.php

I had ample time to look round Rochefort before having an evening meal. It turned out to be a nice town, having a long naval history, interesting to see from the French side of view (as most of it their sea history has been one of rivalry to England).

Alongside the river was a park and pretty buildings, which surprisingly turned out to be a factory to make rope.

http://www.corderie-royale.com/13_visitez_anglais/pop_up/corderie_royale.html

All in all a perfect day. I rounded it off in style by heading off to an Italian restaurant and having a pizza followed by a pasta, not caring a jot that my lack of exertions of the day hardly merited such a repas.

Friday 2nd June Kerinhet>Les Tranche Feeling bad but ride well

Distance 184k
Time 7:47
Climb 600
Weather Sunny

Had a terrible night. Major break down of rear end, caused I think by an unhealthy combination of long days cycling, rich meals and stupidly not heeding advice in French Revolutions not to put orange juice in my bidons.

I will spare graphic details. Suffice to say that over the course of the night I became intimately acquainted with my bathroom and was in severe danger of running out of toilet paper.

Getting breakfast proved a bit tricky as I seemed to be the only person actually staying in the village/hotel. Eventually I tracked someone down and forced myself to eat some bread and jam.

Not surprisingly I started the day with some apprehension and did not book any hotel in advance as I was not sure if I would be able to manage 10km let alone 100.

I recalled stories I had read about Greg Lemond on the tour and how he had ridden one stage in a condition similar to mine. He had bravely pedalled on (equally bravely the rest of the tour had allowed him to), I was not so sure I would be able to.

I only had one priority, to find a pharmacist to get some anti-poo pills. Fortunately I found one quite quickly. Equally fortunately the French for diarrhoea is the same as the English and I knew enough of French customs not to be embarassed asking for some pills for my bottom. (The French for reasons known only to themselves seem to quite like sticking pills up their backsides, a frequent danger when buying medicines there is to get them home and realise you have been given suppositories rather than pills. Fortunately they are not sufficiently wierd as to give you a suppostitory to fix a runny bottom. That said had it been a Sunday and the shops closed I guess my only resort would have been to buy a bottle of wine and use the cork).

After popping a couple of pills I felt remarkably better. In fact strangely despite being very tired in the head after next to no sleep I felt quite strong pedalling. Things were helped as the going was very easy, long flat straight roads linking village to village. The weather was great as well, lovely and sunny. Too sunny in fact as no sooner had I sorted out one orifice than another started to cause me problems and I had to make the second chemist stop of the day to get some lip balm.

Lips balmed I pushed on, trusting this would be the end of my drug stops.

It proved to be which was a good thing as apart from my internal disorders I had one of the scariest bits of my trip ahead of me. To avoid a massive detour I had decided to head down to St Nazaire, cycly through the town and over the big bridge that spans the Loire. (For bridge fans here are the details:

http://en.structurae.de/structures/data/index.cfm?ID=s0000046

When planning my trip I had blithely assumed that I could cycle over this bridge. When I got closer I was not so sure, it had no cycle path and very little separated bike from truck. However I did not fancy the alternative of cycling north to find another route so I pushed on. It was hard work cycling up to the middle of the bridge, but then very fast going down the other side. So fast in fact that I almost cycled through a road crew working the other end. They looked very surprised to see me so I guess not many French are mad enough to take this route.

Had several more encounters with cyclists and rues barres.

Regarding the latter I decided following my puncture experience to ignore them. This policy worked remarkably well and every time I managed to get through the road works, usually without the French workmen batting an eyelid. (Looking back I did push my luck once. The road barred was in fact a pont non-existant with just a plank going 20m or so over a river. I picked my bike up and walked over this only later realising how tricky this must have been given the fact I was wearing cleats.)

As the day wore on my anti-poo pills started to really work, to the extent I was even able to risk breaking wind. This being a sure sign things were on the up I stopped of at a Logis and booked a Logis ahead in La Tranche (great system, you can do this for free).

When I finally got to my hotel I had done 184km, the longest day of my trip so far, and way beyond how far I thought I would get given the condition I started the day in.