This turned out to be one of those days that are nightmares at the time but are nonetheless what elevate a trip from the ordinary to the special.
My notes at the day sum it all up pretty well "Remember waiting for the rain to stop, Remember eating at top of pass, Remember the snow falling, Remember the extra clothes, Remember the cold , Remember the cold, Remember the long downhill with a tail wind,
Remember trying to find the hotel".
The days itinerary was pretty simple. Just one mountain to go up then down the others side. Only thing was that the mountain was the Stelvio, the highest pass on the route and one of the highest in Europe. And the "down the other" was down the famous 48 hairpins and went on forever. Still we thought, looking at the route. "Could be worse, we could have had to go up the hard side". As things turned out that may have been a better option.
Having just had several hardish days, with more to follow I had decided that this would be a "rest" day, planning to keep the power and HR down on the climb then coast to the hotel. As a result I did not have too long a lie in and when I came down for breakfast a few of the group were still in the lobby. Worryingly they were dressed up for bad weather and when I poked my nose outside I found the reason why. Bormio is 1300m or so above sea level so suffers the vicissitudes of mountain weather. Yesterdays sunny evening had been replaced with a solid grey sky from which it was raining. Heavily.
By the time I had finished breakfast the others had left. I poked my nose out again. It was still raining. More heavily. I decided to wait. My previous experience of touring had taught me two things about rain. One: nothing is worse than starting the day wet, Two: even heavy rain has to stop at some point. So I reasoned, that given there was only a short stage to do today it would make sense to wait an hour or so at the hotel if that mean the downpour eased. The tour lorry was anxious to get off as some of the early birds should be nearing the top of the pass soon, so I handed over my luggage, aside from a book which I read for an hour or so in the lobby.
After a while, true to hopes, the rain had eased off. I put on my various outer garments, and set of in what was now just a light shower. The climb started immediately and keeping to plan I took it easy averaging just 187W (HR 128). For most of the way up I enjoyed the climb. I was feeling slightly smug about avoiding the rain, not trying to hard and the road up was very pleasant with a good road surface and pretty signs to mark each hairpin. Unfortunately as the metres ticked by and I passed 2300m or so the weather started to close in. The rain increased and got noticeably colder. The carnet needed an obligatory stamp on the way up. I made an abortive stop at a church thinking it was the place but it turned out not to be. Restarting after then was tough as the damp seeps into you when you are not active and it takes a while to warm up. When I passed another building I decided to give it a miss and press on to the top, reckoning a stamp there would just have to suffice.
By the time I reached the top I was feeling very damp and cold. My "waterproofs" were just protection against UK showers. They weren’t sufficient for conditions on top of an Italian mountain. Consequently I did not feel much initial elation at passing 2700m, the highest ever on my bike, quite a contrast from last year when the Galibier was one of the emotional as well as literal high spots of my trip.
The tour lorry was there to greet me at the top. I was asked if I was OK and said fine. (I did not realise then but most of the tour group bailed out at the top and got lifts down in the lorry. This did not even cross my mind as an option. Even with the benefit of hindsight it would have been the last thing I would have wanted to do.)
The lorry headed off and I headed towards the nearest restaurant needing: a stamp, warm food and somewhere to dry my clothes. I got all of these (including lots of soup) but this entailed a stay of a couple of hours. I had hoped that the rain would pass over in this time. Instead it got worse and turned to snow. Now call me an idiot but this came as a surprise. After all it was in Italy and it was August. I waited a bit more for the snow to stop. It didn’t, it just got heavier. Then it started to settle and I started to get worried. Then I heard thunder and the clouds lit up. I got really worried. The lorry had departed and I was alone at the top. If the snow settled any more I might be stuck here. So I needed to make a move. I togged up again and set off, but first made a detour to the souvenir shops. One purchase was a Stelvio cycle top. A bit cheesy but I think it looked quite cool and in anycase I needed more layers of clothing. I also bought some ski gloves to keep my hands warm.
I set off in a full on blizzard. The warming effects of the soup quickly wore off. When I came to the first of the 48 hairpins my heart was chilled but not due to the weather. The hairpin felt almost vertical, the tarmac that wasn’t covered in snow was covered in huge cracks. When you descend you are meant to use the brakes to the minimum extent. Not in these conditions. I clung onto my brakes for grim death through this and the next and the next and the next etc hairpin, each as scary as the previous one. In fact more so as my ski gloves were utterly useless quickly becoming water logged so that my hands were freezing and it was getting harder and harder to judge the braking. This judgement is pretty crucial, there are no crash barriers if you get it wrong, just a chasm. I was going down very very slowly and at one stage was passed by another, braver chap. Bizarrely quite a few cyclists were coming up the hill. I was actually a bit jealous of them, at least they were not as cold as me.
I caught a glimpse of my heart rate. It was heading down below 60bpm. When descending you do no work so your body cools down. This is nice on a hot day, but in the snow its disastrous. I could feel myself begin to shiver. I got more and more worried. I was in a vicious circle, the colder I got the less control I had off the bike so the slower I went so the colder I got. The descent was over 30km, I had done barely 1km and was starting to wonder how I would make it. Then through the snow I saw some lights. It looked like a restaurant, some 300m or so below. I promised myself I would stop there and worry about the rest of the descent after a cup of tea. I just made it. I parked my bike and went inside.
Only then did I realise just how cold I was. My entire body was shaking uncontrollably. I staggered into the bar area, beheld a blazing fire and saw the chap who had overtaken me on the descent before. We were a mirror image. Each of us shaking, barely able to speak. We were not alone, a number of other cyclists were there, also seeking refuge though they were a lot warmer and dryer, having presumably been there for longer.
Eventually I warmed up enough to order a tea. Drinking this was quite a challenge as I needed to co-ordinate the shaking of my hand to that of my head in order not to spill more of the drink than I swallowed. Still it had an effect so I ordered a second, and a third, and a fourth and a fifth. With each cup I warmed up a bit and was able to do a re-enactment of the dance of the 7 veils, except in my case I peeled off successive layers of soaking clothing and placed them as near to the fire as I dared. I spoke to the dry cyclists and found out they were going up the Stelvio. They had no choice but to get there as they were staying in a hotel on the col overnight, However they were going to take the bus the rest of the way.
This a gave me an option. Not one I really wanted to consider but needs must. I could take the next bus going down. Having just reconciled myself to this course of inaction the cycling gods smiled on me. I looked out of the window and thought it was getting brighter. I mentioned this to the others, they were sceptical at first but then agreed. We looked out of the door and sure enough it had stopped raining, the clouds were a very light grey and with a bit of imagination you could see your shadow.
I went back inside and put on all my layers of, now only slightly damp, clothing. As I set off I noticed my HAC had given up the ghost. It had suffered during my fall in the Yorkshire dales a while back but despite a huge crack it seemed OK. Now though it looked as if the snow and rain had killed it. This was a bit of a downer however not too much of a problem. The hairpins were numbered so knowing how close to the end was easy. Just count to 48. Warmed up and with roads now clear of snow the descent turned out not to be too bad. However it was very very long. Eventually after what seemed to be an age I came to a T junction that marked the official end of the climb. I stopped and looked at my brake blocks. I had put new ones on for the trip, now both were showing severe signs of wear and took quite a few turns to reset.
Though the official climb had ended in fact it was still downhill all the way for another 50km or so to our overnight stop in Lana. This was accompanied by a tail wind so I made good and fast progress averaging over 33kph despite only working at 133W/116bpm. The weather had now changed markedly for the better. It was hot and sunny so I dried out nicely as I sped along and had to make several stops to take off garments. It was scarcely credible that just a couple of hours earlier I had literally been the coldest in my life.
Our rest stop for the night was in Lana, in the Italian Tyrol. I knew this area well from holidays as a child. It’s a very scenic place, far more typically Swiss or Austrian than Italian and German is the first language there. Since the tour lorry had departed early I had not checked exactly where the stop was but did have a photocopied map with an X marking what I presumed would be its spot. After a few false turns I found the road containing the X but no sign of any hotel. I stopped and used my rudimentary German to ask a gardener if there were any hotels nearby.
He said no, so, confused, I made a call the tour company in the UK. They could not help directly but said they would get the guide to give me a call. Just after I put my phone away, quite by chance I happened to see a couple of guys from the tour. I hailed them and they said they would show me to the hotel. We went back down the road I had just come up, walked up to a house, opened a door and hey presto were in the reception area of a camp site. This apparently was the unofficial back door hence no sign. The receptionist was not happy to see me wheel my bike across his floor and uttered the classic phrase "This is not possible!" Having had the day I had I was in no mood to correct his English, I was just happy to get to my bedroom and change clothes.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Raid Dolomites Day 5
A long days riding. Leaving Chiavenna you immediately start on a climb up the Maloja Pass. Can’t be a very special climb as I don’t recall much about it, apart from the fact that when you get to the top there is no descent the other side. Instead there is a large lake there that you ride around eventually reaching St Moritz. Despite some warnings this proved quite simple to traverse unlike the next col which followed it.
This was the Bernina pass and though it marked the high part of the day (in metres terms) it gets my vote as the least enjoyable climb of the trip, principle amongst which was the biting headwind that I had to ride into throughout the climb. There are some nice glaciers on view but these don’t make up for the long straights and the absence of anything special when you get the highest point. I was very happy to make it there and head down over the other side.
The more so as the weather turned more sunny and I met up with the support lorry to get some fruit and drink. Coming over the next pass (Forcola di Livigno) I was overtaken for the only time in the trip, by a mountain bike of all things. In my defence the rider was in some sort of race that finished at the top of the climb (I had another 50km and 2 more climbs to go).
Once over Livigno I headed down to the village of the same name. This was situated in a very picturesque valley. I almost came a cropper by missing a turning and heading down when I should have started to go up but fortunately I realised my mistake early so did not waste too much time/energy. There were a couple of climbs, Eira and Foscagno that came one after another. The final climb over the Foscagno was made weird and a bit hard by the fact that there was a huge traffic jam before the customs stop at the top. I found out later that this is due to Livigno having a special tax free status which means people pop over the mountain to stock up on cheap booze, cigarettes and the like. The downside to this is having to risk a several hour wait to get back.
Neither of the final climbs were particularly hard , though the cumulative effect of riding 130km and climbing nearly 3000m on top of a couple of previous hard days was making itself felt by the end. Nonetheless after the final descent I had enough energy left to catch up a couple of the New Zealanders in the party on the final stretch into Bormio. This proved to be a good thing as I found out from them that our support lorry was stuck in the traffic jam we had just passed. Little point heading to the hotel so we found a café in nice sunny square in Bormio and waited there, eventually to be joined by other members of our group.
Eventually word came that the lorry had arrived so we headed to the hotel, looking forward to the Stelvio the next day.
Days stats: Distance 131km Time 6:02, AVS 22kph, Mclimb 2916,
This was the Bernina pass and though it marked the high part of the day (in metres terms) it gets my vote as the least enjoyable climb of the trip, principle amongst which was the biting headwind that I had to ride into throughout the climb. There are some nice glaciers on view but these don’t make up for the long straights and the absence of anything special when you get the highest point. I was very happy to make it there and head down over the other side.
The more so as the weather turned more sunny and I met up with the support lorry to get some fruit and drink. Coming over the next pass (Forcola di Livigno) I was overtaken for the only time in the trip, by a mountain bike of all things. In my defence the rider was in some sort of race that finished at the top of the climb (I had another 50km and 2 more climbs to go).
Once over Livigno I headed down to the village of the same name. This was situated in a very picturesque valley. I almost came a cropper by missing a turning and heading down when I should have started to go up but fortunately I realised my mistake early so did not waste too much time/energy. There were a couple of climbs, Eira and Foscagno that came one after another. The final climb over the Foscagno was made weird and a bit hard by the fact that there was a huge traffic jam before the customs stop at the top. I found out later that this is due to Livigno having a special tax free status which means people pop over the mountain to stock up on cheap booze, cigarettes and the like. The downside to this is having to risk a several hour wait to get back.
Neither of the final climbs were particularly hard , though the cumulative effect of riding 130km and climbing nearly 3000m on top of a couple of previous hard days was making itself felt by the end. Nonetheless after the final descent I had enough energy left to catch up a couple of the New Zealanders in the party on the final stretch into Bormio. This proved to be a good thing as I found out from them that our support lorry was stuck in the traffic jam we had just passed. Little point heading to the hotel so we found a café in nice sunny square in Bormio and waited there, eventually to be joined by other members of our group.
Eventually word came that the lorry had arrived so we headed to the hotel, looking forward to the Stelvio the next day.
Days stats: Distance 131km Time 6:02, AVS 22kph, Mclimb 2916,
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Raid Dolomites Days 3-4
Day 3 Domodossola to Bellinzona
This should have been an easy day, just 90km and a couple of small hills to negotiate. However maps now in hand I decided to deviate from the proscribed route and go exploring.
I had a couple of reasons for this. First was that I wanted to spend more time cycling and less drinking/eating. Second was that the previous evening we had been discussing the days ahead and I had discovered that Mount Zoncolan was pretty much on the route of the penultimate day. I knew of this climb from it appearing as no.2 in the list of greatest climbs in a recent cycling magazine (Ventoux being no.1). Its new to the pro routes but has quickly made a name for itself, not surprisingly as it is 10.5km with an average gradient of 11.5%! Having done the Ventoux as a diversion last year it seemed somehow fitting to try Zoncolan as a diversion this time. However I had not planned on taking on anything quite this tough so I wanted to check I could turn over my gears for a long time on steep sections.
So I got out my maps and looked for "fleches". This are >s that show a road is steep. I found a number of >> and (better) >>>s and planned a route to take them in.
As a result I had a long days solo riding. Thoroughly enjoyable including a cheese sandwich in the Swiss town of Spruga (originally the barman said he did not do food but I think he relented and actually went home to get some (in fact a huge slice of) cheese and bread). Also made it uyp very steep climb to Trarego which made me a bit more confident about Zoncolan. Only downer on the day was trying to find the motel at journey's end. For some bizarre reason (for a cycle tour) this was situated on a main road where cycles were officially banned. Still when I arrived the hotel was pretty good, though I only just made it in time for dinner. Found that one benefit of my diversion was that I had missed rain that had caught others in the group.
Stats: Time 8:00, Dist: 178km AVS 22kph Mclimb 2624m, AvP 131W NormP 203W
This should have been an easy day, just 90km and a couple of small hills to negotiate. However maps now in hand I decided to deviate from the proscribed route and go exploring.
I had a couple of reasons for this. First was that I wanted to spend more time cycling and less drinking/eating. Second was that the previous evening we had been discussing the days ahead and I had discovered that Mount Zoncolan was pretty much on the route of the penultimate day. I knew of this climb from it appearing as no.2 in the list of greatest climbs in a recent cycling magazine (Ventoux being no.1). Its new to the pro routes but has quickly made a name for itself, not surprisingly as it is 10.5km with an average gradient of 11.5%! Having done the Ventoux as a diversion last year it seemed somehow fitting to try Zoncolan as a diversion this time. However I had not planned on taking on anything quite this tough so I wanted to check I could turn over my gears for a long time on steep sections.
So I got out my maps and looked for "fleches". This are >s that show a road is steep. I found a number of >> and (better) >>>s and planned a route to take them in.
As a result I had a long days solo riding. Thoroughly enjoyable including a cheese sandwich in the Swiss town of Spruga (originally the barman said he did not do food but I think he relented and actually went home to get some (in fact a huge slice of) cheese and bread). Also made it uyp very steep climb to Trarego which made me a bit more confident about Zoncolan. Only downer on the day was trying to find the motel at journey's end. For some bizarre reason (for a cycle tour) this was situated on a main road where cycles were officially banned. Still when I arrived the hotel was pretty good, though I only just made it in time for dinner. Found that one benefit of my diversion was that I had missed rain that had caught others in the group.
Stats: Time 8:00, Dist: 178km AVS 22kph Mclimb 2624m, AvP 131W NormP 203W
Day 4 Bellinzona-Chiavenna
This was the first officially hard day with climbs over San Bernadino and Splugen passes, both over 2000m . As a result early starts were order of the day. I was happier to have a lie in and depart late. Slight problem at start given location of hotel on non-cycle road. Passing cyclist convinced me and tour guide simplest to ignore restriction and follow. Decision vindicated by not seeing any traffic (and later discovering earlier riders had got lost trying to find back roads).
The day was dominiated by the San Bernadino climb. This went on for 31km rising to 2065m at an average 5.4%. Its a lovely pass, mostly along quiet roads (the main traffic goes on a parallel main road to a tunnel) made all the better by lots of sun. A few distractions on the way up: a "rue barre" (ignored) that blocked of 100m of road for no apparent reason; a busy section of road as result of some problem on the main route; s "mushroom fair" at San Bernardino village.
On the way up I passed a number of members of the group, eventually being among the first to get to the restaurant at the top of the pass. Very pleasant with a lake and good views. After some food and drink I headed off down to Splugen to go up the second pass of the day. Shorter 8.8km but steeper 7.4% to reach high for the route to date of 2115m.
All went well until the ascent of the Splugen started. This turned out to be into a headwind and was very hard work. Very glad to get to the top and head down to Chiavenna once it was all over.
Raid Dolomites aka Randonee Leman Adriatique Days 1-2
Just returned from a holiday in the Alps/Dolomites. After going solo last year I decided to take things a bit easier this by booking on an organised cycle trip. This meant "simply" having to ride my bike between stages while my luggage was carried on to the hotel ahead. This sort of worked, sort of didn't. More of this subject later.
The ride itself followed the "Randonee Alpine Leman-Adriatique", an official "route permanante" from Lake Leman (Geneva) to the Adriatique. It snakes across the Alps , zigzagging from Italy to France in the early stages before staying in Italy for a tour of the Dolomites then finally down to the sea at Trieste.
All in all it officially measures some 1180km in length with 44 cols and 22,131m of climbing.
Those following the route get a card which acts as a guide on which roads to follow/cols to go over but also has a section showing various points where you need to collect a stamp as proof that you have ridden the course.
My ride took place end August 2007. Still being a relative newbie in terms of serious cycling this was my first time flying with bike. All went smoothly on this front with the sole exception that right at the end my Scicon bike case was a bit too big for the x-ray machine at Venice airport.
I took advantage of the fact I would not have to carry my own luggage to pack about 5 times as much stuff for 11 days than I took with me around France for 6 weeks (Parkinsons law of luggage). Still as it turned out I did not take enough.
Day 1: Thon to Sion.
Arrived at Geneva the day before and was taken to Thonon on the shores of Lac Leman. There were 26 of us in all and on the first day we set off in small groups for a relatively easy 120km day's ride to Sion in Switzerland with just the Pas de Morgins (1390, mailto:14km@3.3) in the way. The weather was fine and the going easy. I was happy to find that I could still negotiate a long climb.
Only problem we encountered was right at the end, with the hotel being off in an industrial park outside the main town, with most everyone taking a different route to find it.
Stats for the day: Time 4:23 Dist: 122km, AVS 28kph, Mclimb 1250, AvP 144W, NormP 199W
Day 2: Sion to Domodossola.
Similar to day one, except start in Switzerland to hit Italy for the first time and the mountain in the middle was bigger, the Simplon at 2005m the first time over 2000m and being 20km of climbing at 6.6%. Route at the start was flat so we headed off in groups. Roads were boring and hot, progress was not fast but groups split nonetheless. I dropped back to see if some of the backmarkers wanted some help. They didn't but as a result I lost contact with the main group before climb proper started in Brig. The climb starts with a section in the town then hits a fork. Left takes you up the main road, right takes you on a minor road. I took the right fork which proved to be a good idea as it is shorter, shaded and not at all busy. This is at the expense of it being a bit steeper with the first long 10%s (overall 9% for 4km)of the tour but this too is a good thing as it provides a warm up for the much tougher hills ahead.
I made good time up the hill, declining the offer of a beer shouted out by some old locals sitting on their porch. Halfway up or so the minor road rejoins the main one and the climb becomes a longer and less steep, winding through avalanche tunnels with a constant stream of traffic. Not that enjoyable made less so by the fact that a long bridge is undergoing repair (apparently the mountains are moving apart!) so has a long section of one way traffic. I learned from last years tour and went through the red light, which proved a good move as the road was very narrow and I would have had a very long stream of traffic behind me had I waited.
As I progressed up the hill I overtook a number of others on the tour, though none I was in from the group I was with earlier. The couple of km are quite easy and I sped on to stop at the restaurant at the top to meet up with the tour lorry and a couple of others. I had several beers at the top. In fact more than several as I waited for a couple of hours before the group I was with earlier showed. One distraction during this time was a VW Golf that struggled up to the restaurant from the other side of the pass, wreathed in clouds of white smoke. Not quite sure what was ailing it but it was eventually loaded onto a repair truck and driven off.
I eventually set off down to Domodossola, our destination for the night. This was straight down from the Simplon. Just before getting there I and a few others stopped of at a bike shop (owned by a former Giro rider) for various bits and pieces. My purchases were gels and sports drink mix for the harder days to come.
Domodossola turned out to be a nice small Italian town
and the hotel was right in the middle of it. I checked in then went straight out to get some decent maps of the area since the ones provided to us were pretty basic and useless if you wanted to do any off route exploring. I tracked down some in a book shop then headed for the main square where I had yet more beer then the hotel for a very good meal.
Stats: Time 4:19 Dist: 116km, AVS 27kph, Mclimb 1585m, AvP 157W, NormP 212W
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.
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...)
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.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Highclere 2007 - sunny day
A return to Highclere following successful ride last August. Starting to feel like an old timer at sportives now (somewhat prematurely given this is only my fourth event...).
Still first time for something as was riding as part of a team, a novel experience. Accordingly I steered clear of any specific individual target as not sure how others would be riding.
In contrast to Wessex the forecast for the weekend was for sun and it delivered. Day before event I kept off the bike but did do a fairly intense 30 minutes on indoor bike (15 mins Speed 18, 15 mins Speed 16). This seemed to have no adverse effect and I felt very fresh as Sunday dawned. I left early to pick up a fellow rider and we rode to the event together. When there he wanted to speak with bike-shop re his bike so I thought I would tag along and see if I could get a diagnosis as to the rattles coming from my Roubaix.
Chap found the cause, the bolts on my chainring were loose. Something I would never have thought of. He tried to tighten but one snapped. Clearly they were amiss. Happy that at least I knew to get some more I went off to join rest of team.
Course 2007 was reverse from 2006. This meant hard climb up Coombe to start but after then most of first half downhill. Return quite lumpy but no mega climbs.
Still first time for something as was riding as part of a team, a novel experience. Accordingly I steered clear of any specific individual target as not sure how others would be riding.
In contrast to Wessex the forecast for the weekend was for sun and it delivered. Day before event I kept off the bike but did do a fairly intense 30 minutes on indoor bike (15 mins Speed 18, 15 mins Speed 16). This seemed to have no adverse effect and I felt very fresh as Sunday dawned. I left early to pick up a fellow rider and we rode to the event together. When there he wanted to speak with bike-shop re his bike so I thought I would tag along and see if I could get a diagnosis as to the rattles coming from my Roubaix.
Chap found the cause, the bolts on my chainring were loose. Something I would never have thought of. He tried to tighten but one snapped. Clearly they were amiss. Happy that at least I knew to get some more I went off to join rest of team.
Course 2007 was reverse from 2006. This meant hard climb up Coombe to start but after then most of first half downhill. Return quite lumpy but no mega climbs.
Recognising this I thought it would be worth pushing hard from the start. So we led the way for our group up to the climb. There I changed down and started the tricky bit of ascent. After a short while my chain slipped off. I cursed, stopped and put it on again. With some difficulty I restarted only to go a few yards before it came off again. I swore harder and looked at the chain ring, discovering that the broken bolt had slipped out and this was causing the chain to come off. So I had to put the chain back on the middle ring. Restarting was especially tricky but managed and got to the top, rather upset. Met up with one team member and we hared downhill to join up with the others. We then hurtled down the Test Valley at a rate of knots, keeping up a 20mph average for nearly 90km. During this time we lost touch with one of our four. We thought he was in a group behind but later it turned out he was having a hard time and called it a day.
At this stage though things started to get a bit harder as south of Winchester we started to head east. The road started to get lumpy and it was difficult to keep together as a group. After a while it was decided best to split, one of us going ahead with me staying with the remaining team member who was doing his first 100mile+ event.
This proved a wise decision as from then on there was no group that we caught and those that passed were going too fast for us both to comfortably keep up. It was a hot day and I knew from experience it would be no fun to go solo, especially on a first big ride. Eventually the two of us made it to the top of White Hill which we knew was the last big climb. With one last push we made it back to Highclere and welcome beefburger/ice cream.
As it turned out the three of us who completed all hit gold standard and we ended up thoroughly enjoying the day. On a personal level it was a very good training ride, I had taken it comparatively easy (170W) and not had much assistance from riding in a group. Even so we averaged 28kph for the ride as a whole. This made a goal of riding an event at a 20mph average seem realistic given the right circumstances.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Tour of Wessex 2007 Day 3 - The Bad Day after the before
Last day of the Wessex was the hardest. Not physically, single speed Sunday in the wind and rain took that honour. But mentally it was tough.
I was so knackered the day before that I had not bothered to check my time and how I was placed. I knew that, given the gold standard targets, getting a gold was pretty much out of the question. So I decided out the outset not to try too hard and treat the day as a tourist ride.
The weather was grey but not too bad through my hotel window, a definite improvement on the day before. I had breakfast and set off on my bike with gears. After a while I became aware of a noise coming from my bike which I identified as being the rear cassette being loose (having had similar in the past). This was a bit of a disaster. Fixing this was easy, but you needed the right specialist tool. I thought I may be able to scrounge one at the event but this would mean missing the start. The days route was long but the first 60km or so were quite flat. My plan had been to shelter in a group for this section then take it easy as the hills started. Missing the start would mean riding solo which would make things a lot harder.
I had a couple of pieces of luck. First was that the weather the day before had played havoc in the field where the event was held. Lots of things had blown down and most crucially the electronic timing was broken. So the start was on hold. Second bit of luck was that I managed to find a very helpful chap just when I was getting desparate because it looked like no-one had the tool I needed. He was sure he had the right gadget, only problem was he did not know where it was. He had a van full of bike stuff and it was only by taking this all out that we finally located the vital spanner. He sorted me out and I offered heartfelt but hurried thanks as I just managed to make the start in time to ride off with the pack.
As I expected the first 60km or so were quite uneventful. We bowled along at a fair pace averaging some 28kph. I was in a huge group of riders and as the route was along wide straight roads it was not too difficult for us to stay together.
Eventually we reached some signs directing us along smaller country lanes and at this stage a funny thing happened..I needed to go for a pee. Now I know this is quite a natural thing to do but luckily when I ride I don't seem to get the urge to go. I always put this down to me losing liquid via sweat etc. Anyway today was different. I needed to stop so put off the urge until a suitable bush appeared and then stopped for a bit of quick relief.
Having dropped from the group I was with I did not feel any urge to catch up. The roads were narrow and twisty so I could not see them to chase and in any case wanted to save energy for the climbs ahead. These included the "highlight" of the weekend, Dunkley Beacon, the highest point of Exmoor with a long (for England) climb of some 300m, much of with a double digit gradient.
I ambled along, enjoying the countryside and the weather. The latter was proving to be nice and reasonably sunny. All went well until I hit Crowcombe. Halfway through a sign pointed right and more importantly up a small road. This led up to the Quantock hills. The climb was immediately tough, as steep as any around Newbury and longer. Then I saw a sign warning(!) of a steep climb ahead....(as if this was not steep enough..) I soldiered on but with huge difficulty. The climb measured 30%+ according to my HAC and though I pedalled up it at one stage I had to resort to a slow tac across the slope rather than straight up.
The top of the climb had a food stop and here I stopped. Previously I had ridden past these but today I was in need of a banana. I pushed on heading quickly downhill and to the coast. I passed through some seaside towns then off west. This bit was a real slog. The road was long, straight and devoid of shelter from the wind that blew straight into my face. I slogged on not enjoying the experience very much and praying for a time when we would turn south and head to Exmoor. Eventually this happened. Just before a couple of riders passed me and jumped on their back to get a tow. At one stage one beckoned to me to take a turn at the front. I declined pointing out I was tired having done the last god knows how long solo. I did not point out that I recoginised the person doing the beckoning as someone from the first day who had been in our group heading to the finish and had spent precisely zero time doing any work for the bunch.
The big climb was a bit of a tease. The route took us right of the road onto a cycle path/byway through a wood. There were a number of false starts when the road kicked up only to drop away after a couple of hundred metres. So I started the climb proper without realising I was on it.
It proved a bit of an anti-climax. It was long but manageable (my triple working sans problems). Subjectively it was easier than the previous Quantock torture, helped by the fact the sun was shining and the views as you went up were great. On the way up I was passed by some Army guys I recognised from Newbury. They were planning to ride the tour de france route and using the TOW as their last training ride.
At the top of Dunkley Beacon were find views and more bananas. Then a fast descent and some small medium climbs. After 130km or so the route profile showed these were over and it was downhill or flat to the finish.
I cycled along quite quickly, roping in a few others to do a bit of work then pushing on. All was fine until we headed off the main road and up an unmarked (on the profile) hill. It was not the steepest or longest of the weekend, but did have some bits at 25% or so. I hated this hill, mainly because it was not meant to be there. I gave up any attempt to go fast and just twiddled up it. When I got to the top I decided to go slow to the end in protest. I kept to this resolution until I was joined by some others and it seemed easier to stick with them, which I did pretty much until the finish (which came later than posted at more like 210km than the 200km that were meant to be).
I reached the finish with a sense of anti-climax in around 8 hours. All there was quiet so I returned to the Marston Arms for a well earned pint (or two)
First 25 Miler - Harder than I thought
Did first official 25 mile TT last night. Turned out harder than I expected. Largely my own fault as I did no preparation. In fact I only decided to do the event the day before and then only so I could get hold of a club jersey in time for the sportive this weekend.
My preparation was further hindered by me feeling very good the night before, so having quite a hard workout on the Banjo ride, averaging some 190+W. I felt so good I headed off solo at the end to put in a couple of climbs. Then spent the whole day yesterday on my feet doing a mixture of house chores, bike maintenance, golf lesson and errands in town. I literally only stopped 30 minutes before setting off for the event.
Whats more the evening itself turned cold and windy after a day mainly full of sun....
So lots of excuses. Being my first 25miler I really did not know what to expect. I set a target of 280-300W following my 325W average on the 10 miler last month. For the first quarter this seemed well attainable as I averaged 288 but slowly and surely the average declined so that at the turn after 25km the average had dropped to 280 and I had difficulty keeping it around that level up to the finish. My final reading on the bike was 278W but Cyclepeaks reckons 280W for the event itself so just on target. But I felt very tired, unable to hit the 170+ bpm I reached during the 10 miler and writing this the day after I feel much more tired than I expected.
On the good side though the time was respectable. One grail for a cyclist is to get under the hour for 25 miles, and I nearly managed this first attempt do 64 minutes. The course was a bit downhill overall but the wind on the return leg made it harder. Famout last words but I reckon I can break the hour on a warm calm night with a bit of preparation.
Also I set a PB FTP (CP60) of 280W and managed to keep rpm up at 83 average. Re latter though interesting that my most powerful rides are those with lower cadence. Towards end of the event I found a technique of counting 1 2 3 and pushing hard down on the 1 (so alternating legs) seemed to work well in terms of high power but not feeling too hard. Will experiment with this before the next time I brave a TT
Other good news was that my bike performed well, and no bits fell off despite me doing lots of work on it during the day including dismantling bottom bracket and fitting new Toupe seat. Tyres stunning. Inflated to 10bar and they went fine.
My preparation was further hindered by me feeling very good the night before, so having quite a hard workout on the Banjo ride, averaging some 190+W. I felt so good I headed off solo at the end to put in a couple of climbs. Then spent the whole day yesterday on my feet doing a mixture of house chores, bike maintenance, golf lesson and errands in town. I literally only stopped 30 minutes before setting off for the event.
Whats more the evening itself turned cold and windy after a day mainly full of sun....
So lots of excuses. Being my first 25miler I really did not know what to expect. I set a target of 280-300W following my 325W average on the 10 miler last month. For the first quarter this seemed well attainable as I averaged 288 but slowly and surely the average declined so that at the turn after 25km the average had dropped to 280 and I had difficulty keeping it around that level up to the finish. My final reading on the bike was 278W but Cyclepeaks reckons 280W for the event itself so just on target. But I felt very tired, unable to hit the 170+ bpm I reached during the 10 miler and writing this the day after I feel much more tired than I expected.
On the good side though the time was respectable. One grail for a cyclist is to get under the hour for 25 miles, and I nearly managed this first attempt do 64 minutes. The course was a bit downhill overall but the wind on the return leg made it harder. Famout last words but I reckon I can break the hour on a warm calm night with a bit of preparation.
Also I set a PB FTP (CP60) of 280W and managed to keep rpm up at 83 average. Re latter though interesting that my most powerful rides are those with lower cadence. Towards end of the event I found a technique of counting 1 2 3 and pushing hard down on the 1 (so alternating legs) seemed to work well in terms of high power but not feeling too hard. Will experiment with this before the next time I brave a TT
Other good news was that my bike performed well, and no bits fell off despite me doing lots of work on it during the day including dismantling bottom bracket and fitting new Toupe seat. Tyres stunning. Inflated to 10bar and they went fine.
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
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)
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)
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.
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.
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.
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