Thursday, July 26, 2007

Tour de France - pause while service (hopefully) being resumed

For one reason or another I have fallen behind writing up my TDF last year. I had hoped to get it finished before this years tour ended, but now its all over and I have still not managed to catch up.

Still, good news is that I may still be able to finish my TDF blog before the 2006 Tour is finished. This is because, as anyone with any interest in cycling knows, the "winner" Floyd Landis tested positive for testosterone after his famous last climbing stage win. His case is still rumbling its way through some sort of legal black hole.

This somehow neatly bookended the tour as it started with a drugs mess as several of the favourites (plus a few then unknowns) were implicated in what became known as the "Puerto" affair. (strangely for me, because I was on my own tour I was blissfully unaware of all this. I turned up in Strasbourg and the first I knew of the scandal was during the Prologue itself when I had to ask where all the favourites had gone. By a strange coincidence I was also staying at the team hotel of T-Mobile, one of the teams most affected).

Still the 2006 tour itself was relatively free of problems and made a good spectacle. And when it came to an end all and sundry loudly proclaimed that it was time to turn over a new leaf. The various cycling magazines had strong editorials about the evils of drugs and how they would lead campaigns to rid their sport of them.

Sadly this proved not to be the case. The 2007 Tour of France was almost the obverse of the 2006. It could not possibly have started any better. After seemingly months of rain the sun came out and the crowds with it to welcome the Tour to the UK. The prologue and the first stage were grand affairs. The crowds were bigger than in France and at the end of the weekend it felt good to be a cyclist, British and Swiss (yellow jersey being on Fabio Cancellara's shoulders).

Then in the first week Tom Boonen finally won, which is nice because he seems like a nice guy and I have a soft spot for Belgians since my tour. Only downside on this was that Robbie McEwan was obviously a bit out of sorts. Then the climbs started and Michael Rasmussen moved into yellow. This looked like good news. I have always had a soft spot for climbers and the prospect of the tour being won by one made it a lot more interesting.

Sadly that was the high spot. After then it all went horribly, horribly wrong. It started with a trickle but this became a flood. Day after day scandals broke. The tour was ruined as a spectacle. It was no longer possible to believe anything you saw. The winner one day would be gone the next. Entire teams disappeared. Somebody called Contador won on their first tour. It should have been a magical story. But wasn't because this should have been the second tour of the individual concerned. Except he couldnt compete in the 2006 tour because his name was linked to Puerto. So nobody really knows what exactly he won. The Tour? or the competition not to get caught?

Its all left me feeling very depressed. Not about cycling, I really enjoy that. But I won't bother with the pros any more.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Yorkshire Rides (and fall)

Spent weekend in Yorkshire, cycling around and about the Ribble Valley and nearby dales.

Reason for going up was the "Roses Round" sportive which I entered to fill a gap in the July lead up to my trips abroad and because I was not too familiar with this neck of the woods.

Journey up Friday I was regretting choice as it poured down as I headed up the M6 stuttering from traffic jam to traffic jam. I had planned quite an adventurous schedule. Friday was to be a 35 mile apertif, then Saturday ride the etape de dales course (110miles) then Sunday the Roses Round itself (75 miles).

Hotels in the area were at a bit of a premium due to lots of weddings. So had one night at one, one at another.

Friday was spent in the delightful "Backfold Cottage" in Waddington.




http://www.smoothhound.co.uk/hotels/backfold.html




This is a small guest house adapted from one of the cottages in a terrace. I got a very warm welcome from the lady in charge. On finding I was a cyclist she told me that she was quite used to having these to stay as apparently the village is on the Lands End - John O'Groats route, not only that it is pretty much half way on some routes so time for a celebration when you get here. She also reminisced about living in the village during the war when a bike was a rare sight indeed (and hard work to ride as no gears and lots of hills).

I gave the weather until 5 o'clock to clear up but that time came and went and the rain kept pouring down. So I watched the Scottish Open golf and then went to the pub. Had a good local meal of black pudding followed by sausage and mash, washed down with several pints of Thwaites (best being Bomber). Went to bed mulling over plans for next day.



Saturday
(red line = %gradient, blue = speed)

Had full English to cheer myself up and decided on change of plan. Weather forecast said should be OK but cloudy and rain spitting down. So rather than the etape I decided on a couple of rides nearby that would give me the option of an early end if the weather turned out like day before.

Glad to be on bike again and made good progress. One thing became quickly clear. There are no flat bits in the Dales. Everywhere was either up or down. At least on the routes I took not too much so (though think there are a few killer climbs around that I will look for next time I am up here).

Really enjoyed myself until halfway through the ride when, after a longish climb that included breezing past another cyclist, I lost it going down hill. Host of reasons why, enjoying the ride, going too fast, an evil hairpin and wet roads. Anyway I braked too hard in the wrong place and ran out of road on a corner. Agonisingly I thought I had saved it, as I was just getting control of the bike despite being on the grass verge. Then the grass disappeared down a big hole and I went head over handlebars. Funnily my only thought was "oh no not again" as my head hit the tarmac (shades of Tourmalet, just over a year ago). I came to a halt and my second thought was for the bike (I only thought about whether I was hurt later..) By some miracle it was completely intact, apart from the rear light which was no loss as I had intended to swap it later. At first I thought my computers had got lost in all the undergrowth, but even here I was in luck. I found both side by side, still fully functioning, (despite the Hac having a big crack...)



My next worry was if the cyclist I had passed on the way up was going to pass me on the way down. For reasons of self image I could not look like I was some sort of idiot who did not know how to go round corners so I gathered myself up and tried to look as if I was taking in the view before checking which bits of my body may no longer be fully functioning.




Fortunately though blood seemed to be spattered everywhere nothing seemed to be broken. Thanks to my helmet my head was fine, though all my joints were very blooded especially my poor old left knee which always seems to get the worst deal. Biggest injury seemed to be my left little finger, the top knuckle of which seemed to be missing. Most urgent injury was left thigh and buttock which had landed full on in a gorse bush and were both now full of tiny thorns.




Eventually, after what seemed an age I restarted. I still could not quite believe the bike was OK but it was, not even a puncture.




I was faced with a choice. I had planned two rides in the day, in a sort of figure of eight joined at the middle near my start point. Sods law meant I had fallen at the furthest point out of my first ride so I had at least 20 miles to do. Question was would I bail out and have an early bath. I remembered the last time I had fallen. Then I had no choice but to soldier on, inspired by the riders of the Tour I was emulating, who drugs or no seemed super human. Only this week for example a rider had gone 100 miles solo after a fall, only to find at the end he had broken his arm. I took heart from this. Yorkshire was a long way from Newbury and I was damned if I would come all this way just for a 40 mile ride. So I set off again, determined to keep to my land for the day, albeit going slower down hill.

I was very glad I did. The weather got better and better as the day progressed. I got some great views and cycling, including sea views and lots of sheep. When I finally got back to my car I had done 140km of riding and 2400m climbing (the toughest being, naturally, at the end of the ride along a main road in the boiling sun to get back to my car..). Whats more my powertap told me this had a "TSS" of 462 which in theory made it my hardest ride since buying it (due to fact there were no flat bits I think).

I had done a bit of forward planning and my car had a first aid kit that let me tidy myself up a bit. I then headed off to my second hotel. This was pretty much the opposite from Backfold Cottage in terms of hotels, being large and very 70s in terms of decor. Still I had a massive room (in fact 4 rooms in all) and the receptionist didnt blanche at my bloodied state. I arranged an early breakfast and retired to my room for a much needed bath and call to Mrs Miff.

While bathing I discovered I had some souveniers of my fall. Some gorse thorns seemed particularly attached to my thighs and a small stone had got lodged in my little finger. I did some surgery with a toothpick then went for a meal of pasta and steak. Strangely the highlight of this was a side order of rocket salad This came in a huge portion including loads of my all time favourite number one food in the world (parmesan). In fact I liked this so much that I ordered a second as a dessert since it contained more cheese than the normal boards on offer. Despite this and all my cuts/bruises I had a remarkably good nights sleep (patching up my woulds with toilet paper).

Sunday

This was meant to be the main event of the weekend, though in terms of distance, climbing and excitement it was overshadowed by the previous day.

However in terms of scenery it won out, despite not having any sea views. The route took us in a big circle over two main climbs. The second was marvellous, my favourie so far in the UK. The climb was long but fair, with some challenging kicks at the top and tail. But the best was the summit where there was no sudden plunge but rather a long ride along a sort of plateau followed by a very long descent to the finish (though I did miss a turn along the way that meant an unwanted detour). On this last bit I played the good samaritan of sorts, as I found a mobile phone in the road and was able to reunite it with its owner a bit up the road (he did not even realise he had lost it).

The event was quite low key for a sportive, almost the opposite of my last excursion at the Dragon. There were no time chips and in fact I did not even think the event was going to be timed. Actually I quite enjoyed this. Since I was not going for a time I took things easy, stopping at the stops for some Red Bull and cakes, there being no queues at any of them at all. Whats more the finish had some excellent fruit cake (and no degreasers disguised as gels).

"Torrential rain" had been forecast but fortunately that held off until the end of the ride. Whats more the journey back was much quicker and easier than that up.

Postscript

Turns out the event was timed after all though in low key way that meant you had to tell the bloke at the start when you set off. Lovely contrast to other rides. My ignorance of this meant no offical time. Unofficial was 4:55 including stops and detours which put me in equal 13th out of the 57 who did the long course (fastest 3:56). Actually better than I expected given events of the previous day and me not pushing really hard anywhere around the course.