Distance 80
Time 4:12
Climb 1554
Cols Soudet
Weather Very Hot (still)
I had a good nights sleep but woke with butterflies in my stomach. Today was going to be a special day, my first ever climb up a "HC" mountain. HC = Hors Categorie which refers to the Tour de France classification of climbs.
Wiki: The French term primarily used in French races (most notably, the Tour de France) to designate a climb that is "beyond categorization", an incredibly tough climb. Most climbs are designated from Category 1 (hardest) to Category 4 (easiest), based on both steepness and length. A climb that is harder than Category 1 is designated as "hors catégorie".
I was planning to go in the deep end. I had never done a climb of Category 2 let alone a 1 and here I was planning to do one so hard it could not be categorised. The climb in question was the Soudet. Overall it climbs for 30km up 1300m which is beyond anything in the UK. Harder still is that the further you go the steeper it gets, the second 15km go up over 1000m at an average gradient of over 7%.
My nervous stomach meant me only having a small breakfast as I was eager to set off. The weather was hot again, but there was plenty of shade. Finding the route to the Soudet was easy and after an hour or so I saw the first sign on the climb proper.
As I made the first turning up the mountain I looked down and saw a couple of fit looking, shaven headed guys get some bikes out of a car. This was a bit worrying, I was not sure if I was going to make it to the top or what state I was going to be in. I remembered the embarassment when starting cycling of having to get off and push. If my attempt ended this way then I would prefer to keep the humiliation to myself.
This gave me a bit of a spur and I kicked on. True to the profile the first few km are not too bad but things get tougher after passing through St Embrace. They were even tougher for me as I took a wrong turning up a near vertical street, only to find it was a dead end and I had to retrace my steps.
I carried on and the going got harder. The signs by the side of the road counted down the kms to go but the gradients started to get steeper with 8s and 9s appearing. To add to the difficulty the road was being resurfaced. This was something I was going to have to get used to, roads all along my route were being repaired in advance of the tour. This meant that often my back wheel would spin on the newly laid gravel and at times I felt more as if I was mountain biking.
Still I pushed on and saw my first 10% km sign. Then 11%! This is an average over the next km. Now this is tough. In the UK people talk out 25% and 30% hills but the reality is that this only refers to the steepest section of the climb. For example I climbed the Devils Staircase in Wales during training and that had warning signs of 25% and bits of it were. But at the end of the day it was a 1km climb averaging at 11.5% and once done the climb is over. Now I was doing pretty much the same after several km of climbing and several more to go.
I engaged low gear and pushed on. At the end of the km the next sign came up with me praying it would not be another double digit gradient. My prayers were answered, a mere 8%. Then I discovered why people say the Pyrenees are tougher than the Alps, a statement I was to agree with by the end of my tour. Climbing is fundamentally about establishing a rhythm, keeping pedals turning and breathing going on a steady pace. In the Alps the climbs are longer than the Pyrenees but tend to be smoother with less changes of gradient. This makes establishing a rhythm not too difficult. While in the Pyrenees you get things like was just about to happen to me. Just after celebrating the fact that after 11%, 8% was going to mean a bit of a rest the road suddenly went downhill for a bit. This was double bad news, first it meant my rhythm went. Second it meant that the bit after the downhill meant regaining my lost height then adding more. I reckon it was more like 16% then 8% and nearly did for me.
But in fact this was the toughest bit and once over I knew I would make it to the top. The final couple of km was a long drag and I finally left the cover of the trees. At last I made it to the top. I was tired but not dead and full of elation. My first HC, done without stopping. To add to the achievement there was no sign of the bald headed blokes I saw at the start.
I phoned Mrs Miff to give her the good news and took time to savour my triumph and take in the view. Sadly the latter was not much to write home about, the top of the Soudet is pretty nondescript and sadly lacking in sources of refreshment.
So after a while I headed downhill. Fast. Very fast. Faster than I have ever gone in my life. My speedo was registering in the mid 80s kmh and I was having a great time. It was lunchtime and the road workers were heading for the valley and a bite to eat. This meant descending was a bit easier as I followed one of them down.
Descending HC mountains is as much of an experience as climbing them. Nothing in the UK can prepare you for the amount of time you spend shooting downhill which can get tiring both physically and mentally.
My first descent was nearly my last. As I headed round a corner I suddenly found the road had disappeared. The top layer of tarmac had been removed leaving just a layer of hardcore. I didnt have time to think which was probably a good thing. I just shot over a 6 inch drop and carried on over the hard core every bone in my body and bit of my bike shuddering. Somehow I managed to jump my bike up and over back onto the road.
I went downhill a bit more slowly after that, figuring if I was a cat I might be down to 8 lives.
After what seemed an age I finally got to the bottom of the Soudet. I stopped by a tabac and at last the June edition of Velo was out. This had the full tour route details so at last I could be sure I was following the real thing.
Then I looked for a hotel. My first choice was a posh one but this was already full of cyclists (in fact there was a moment of confusion as when I pulled up the receptionist assumed I was with this group and started showing me to my room).
So I cycled a bit more of my route and came across another hotel in Lurbe St Christau. This looked a bit dilapidated and I was one of only a handful of guests. But appearances can be deceptive. The guy running the hotel was very laid back and welcoming and it had a swimming pool by which I lounged and drank several beers. The for evening meal I ordered pizza, which was excellent, piled high with fresh ingredients.
My first HC and I felt grand. Ready for the challenge of tomorrow and yet more climbing.
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