The best laid plans.........

During the recce, there were a few surprises in store, not least of which was the hill out of Rebenacq. Now, quite rightly, this is not a King of the Mountains climb owing to the fact that it climbs 'only' about 130 metres (may not even be that far) , and does it over a few kilometres, so the gradient is lessened. Nonetheless, it's bigger than anything round here, and I felt a little conned that this hadn't appeared on any of the dire warnings I'd been reading before the Etape.

Imagine my surprise when the following profiles were pointed out to me today:

1. From the Etape Website

2. From the Tour de France website












Spot the difference yet? It seems that professionals need more warning of 'little' climbs than amateurs.....surely not?!

My greatest worry was not reaching the Elimination point at La Mongie in time or, to be more exact, losing loads of time on the broom wagon by the time we got to the first feed at Lourdes. To maintain any lead over the broom wagon on this section 70km have to be completed in 2 hours 35 minutes, that being 27.1kmh. I have never averaged 27kmh before, certainly not for 70km over unknown roads, including a TdF category 3 KOTM climb.

With the broom wagon slowing down to 17kmh from Baudean at 95km in, and then to 7.5kmh up the Tourmalet from 100km in, I calculated that I could make up a little time on the shallower gradients at the bottom before the steeper stuff kicked in. If I got that far and was still in front of the broom wagon by then.

Effectively, I had to split my ride in two. A sportive-like blast over the section to the Tourmalet (with its two category 3 climbs) and then a grind to the finish over two mountains separated by a screaming descent. I needed to go hard from the start, but not too hard, and that meant taking advantage of the peloton effect, something I had never experienced before.

What I needed was a plan. The plan went something like this:

1. Find a group
2. Hide in it
3. When reaching a climb, go up at own pace until reaching the top.
4. Repeat stages 1-3 as often as necessary.

With the mind set on what I had to do, and feeling unable to plan or worry about anything else, I retreated to bed, and actually went to sleep fairly quickly...........

Until about 2 a.m., when lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and the heavens opened. This continued for about 2 and a half hours, until the storm rolled off into the distance, still flashing occasionally, and leaving everything drenched in its wake. Total sleep, about 3 1/2 hours, perfect preparation.

Getting up at 4:45, I cannot remember what I ate for breakfast, just that on exiting the gite at 5:35, we discovered it was still dark, and I was the only one with a light. A strange procession ensued into Pau with the other 3 following my flashing rear light the 5km into Pau to the start.

As we reached the outskirts, there were cars drawn onto verges everywhere disgorging their cargo of lycra clad lunatics. The 'biggest day yet on a bike' was well and truly begun.

Stage fright

Saturday arrived overcast (again) and a morning of considerable faffing meant we were later starting than we wished. Bikes were dumped in the Parc-Ferme at the start, and we were off through Pau, in pretty rough traffic.

It seemed to take ages to exit the town, but the route to Gan was still a promising straight, slightly downhill road. After Gan, the rollers started, and I started to think about how much this was going to slow me down.

And then Rebenacq arrived. This village merits not a mention in any DVD reviews, and doesn't make it to the Etape profile at all. However, the Rapha review promises that this is the point where 'the peloton with blow apart'. Nearly right (more later), but it does have one of those 140m climbs that seems to go on forever when you're in the car. Labatmale follows, Category 3 K-O-T-M climb, and long. Doubts surfaced about my ability to make it to Lourdes with any lead over the broom wagon. We made it to Lourdes, tired and fractious. Food was needed, McDonalds obliged.

Slightly more upbeat, we headed out over Loucrup, Category 3 K-O-T-M and more immediate than Labatmale. The next few miles drag gradually uphill to St Marie-de-Campan and the promised Tourmalet. At another 17km of distance, and 1300 meters of climb, this would be the longest, highest climb I had ever experienced. At least I would be doing it in the car. Some 5 km up the road, we reached the cloud line, and visibility dropped to under 15 metres. Sometimes it was almost impossible to pass bikes going up, as we couldn't see far enough to tell if anything was coming down. Gradients seemed immense, and unrelenting in the fog. We almost saw La Mongie, but both sides of the road were hidden in the mists, and 4 km later we arrived at the summit, and parked up. By this time, my head was spinning, and knees wobbling. Getting out of the car, I looked over the edge.
Big mistake. Head spinning turned to nausea, knees failed completely, and left me clinging to the car. My old friend vertigo had returned. I had no choice but to phone my wife and inform her that my completion of the Etape was impossible. Even if I got to the top, I could evidently not descend the mountain.......and live.Thankfully, she gave me a good talking-to, and raised my spirits a little.

The descent was helped a little by not being able to see the drop-offs, and by the time the cloud abated we were back amongst the meadowlands further down, but I was no longer under any illusions of what lay ahead, and I didn't like the thought of any of it.

By the time we reached the Hautacam turnoff, we no longer had time to drive up and back down. Hautacam would have to remain a surprise.

Parked up, caught the bus back to Pau, Pasta-partied, and returned to the Gite for a night of failing to sleep. One way or another, tomorrow was going to be one hell of a day.

On further arrivals, registration and general hotness

Mike and Mark arrived slightly late on the Friday, having been delayed on their Paris stopover, which at least gave me time for a stunning cup of coffee, whilst I was waiting.

A quick al-fresco meal in the sunshine, and we all departed by bike for the 4.5km ride to the start village. The gite really was in a perfect location for the start, even if I can't take full credit for it's location having booked on a 'best guess of where the start will be' basis.

The Etape village was already buzzing in the afternoon sunshine, and registration achieved quickly, accompanied by a splendid (and unexpected) goodie bag, in the form of an Etape/Mondovelo backpack including an event T-shirt, many of which were in evidence over the next few days.

After a quick tour round the stands and the associated bike-porn, we decided a small ride, on a small roundabout-route ride back to the Gite for well deserved rest. I will profess to disappointment at this point. The personnel on the Trek stand were friendly and well knowledgeable, but refused what I thought was a perfectly reasonable request to test drive the top-of-the-range SSL road bike round the Etape course on the Sunday. Never mind. You can't win 'em all.

The 20 mile ride back to the gite revealed 2 things:
Firstly, the clock/thermometer on the local JCB dealership was showing 43 degrees centigrade! If that persisted on the Sunday, we'd be in trouble. We discussed the preferability of rain (be careful what you wish for)

Secondly, Pau is surrounded by 100-150 metre climbs that are not marked on maps.

Further proof that I 'don't do heat' was evidenced by having to visit the Intermarche for water on the way back. I had drunk more water in 20km, than I had in the first 50 miles of the Circuit of the Cotswolds. Rain was definitely preferable (be VERY careful what you wish for)

An early night, with limited beer/wine was had by all. Tomorrow was the Recce.

On arrivals and orientation

After considerable faffing, and a mighty fine leg massage, the Datameister Etape Tour finally got started almost on time on the pre-Etape Wednesday. With a clear run to Stratford-on-Avon and picking up the other two car passenger/part-time drivers, the front end was pointed channelwards and the 925 mile grind to Pau began.

Its at this point I have to thank Mrs Mike for the loan of a Tom-Tom, which made the whole process enormously easier, with the exception of a dubious bit of direction finding in Rouen which was only corrected by a left turn of dubious allowability. Eurotunnel allowed us to travel an hour early and arrival in France was greeted by a stunning sunset and shower driven rainbow. An omen perhaps? If so, I couldn't decipher it.

As night fell, the toll motorway dragged us interminably towards the South, and driving stints became ever shorter. At about 3 a.m. all three of us called it a day for about 45 minutes of fitful rest before setting out into the gradually lightening morning.

As timing would have it, Bordeaux appeared at the same time as morning rush-hour which was thankfully not one of truly UK proportions, and soon put the city behind us. About 2 hours later, the toll motorway from Bayonne promised Pau in 20km, and a stunning Pyreneean view to the right........right! Another omen, only clouds, no mountains.

A quick trip to the Hypermarche and onto the Gite for unloading and napping, 'only' 18 hours after leaving home.

Waking in mid-afternoon there was only one thing to do, build the bike and go explore. Navigation was poor, but we eventually found the 'no parking here on Sunday' signs leading us out of Pau toward Gan, and cruised out of town at about 30kmh on the gradually downhill road, noting even at this point that french roads seemed to 'roll well' under the tyres.

By the time we got to Gan, time was getting on, so we cut across to the river over a couple of climbs that put everything local in the UK to shame, and these weren't even marked on the map. More omens for Rebenacq (more on that later). These weren't overly steep, but went on for ages. Great climbing, and first real enjoyment of trip.

During the ride back to Pau, the different attitude of drivers in the area, which had been peripherally apparent, was really brought to our attention. Going through a village, we came across a father with two small kids (about 8 and 6, I estimate), no stabilisers, riding slowly up the main road through the village. A queue of cars swiftly formed and, due to the road furniture, remained behind the riders for about 200 metres at 6-year-old-on-a-bike pace. No horns were sounded, no windows wound down, no yells of derision hurled, no 'hand signals' used. As the family turned off, one driver even waved! Clearly, we had driven too far and arrived on another planet.

On arrival back at the gite, our 'little look around' had amassed 65km of very enjoyable riding. Time to crash out prior to the other guys arriving on Friday.

5 sleeps 'til the big one!

Miles last week 72
Longest Ride 36 miles

Total UK pre-etape miles 8,369.


Last post until it's done and dusted, since we're off the La Belle France tomorrow for the long drive to Pau.

The First Time Etappers Tour Bus (well, Ford Galaxy) will be fully laden with bikes, so if you see us on the way to the Pyrenees, don't forget to sound your horn in encouragement. We'll be plenty conspicuous, promise.

The bike is finally cleaned and packed away into the bike bag (and that took some doing this evening), so tomorrow should mostly be a matter of packing, though I suspect I'll be pretty busy in the morning.

Good luck to all fellow competitors, and thanks to all of you for your invaluable encouragement.

Game on! Let's 'ave it!!

Last big training ride done.

Weighing in
This week 100.0 kg
Effectively no weight loss since the start of the year, but no gain either. The first time in 10 years my weight has not been going up over time.

Miles last week 225
Longest ride 102 miles

With the Etape now being just 13 days away, I'll not be concentrating on how lardy I am any more. There are more important things to sort out now.

Yesterday saw a very windy Circuit of the Cotswolds with trees at the side of the road bent almost double in places.

At least over the course of the day, the sun mostly shone, and the wind shifted to be with us for about 50% of the ride. I'm still learning a few things, but yesterday carried some really good lessons.

After the Lark Stoke climb (about 60km in) I caught up with an older gentleman in Reading CC kit (greying hair, legs that looked as if they'd seen more miles than a London Taxi) and whilst talking he pointed to a guy about 30 metres in front and said "that's the wheel to be on". How did he know? 30 metres up the road is usually considered by me as "past and gone", but on this occasion I dug in and got on. At this point his 3 team mates in MidOxon gear arrived, and I struggled to hold the last wheel for about a mile whilst oxygen returned to my bloodstream. Once it did, however, the group kindly dragged me all the way to Snowshill a full 10kmh faster than would have otherwise been possible. Thanks guys, whoever you were.

Later, on Cleeve Hill, I learned that riding all the way up a 1-in-4 is not always the best policy if it's going to kill your legs for the rest of the ride. So, for the first time this year, I chose to get off. Usually, I get off at the point of surrender or collapse. Many others were pushing too. On the next two climbs, I passed those who had been riding Cleeve, as they were walking. Net gain.

Feeling unusually strong, I left the last control with the wind behind, and leathered it as hard as my slipping chain would allow (must get that fixed before the Etape) only for my "fastest target time" to be cruelly snatched away by 5 (count 'em, 5) red traffic lights in the last 3 miles.

The obligatory stats:
Distance 164km/102 miles
Average speed 24.1kmh/15mph
Max Speed 71.6kmh/44.5mph
Ride Time 6:49:30
Elapsed time 7:01:52

And then today the results were published. I had a suspicion yesterday that the organisers might have been generous with the time standards, but apparently:
22% got Gold
20% got Silver
23% got Bronze
35% got finishers medals, so it's not 'too' generous.

I was gobsmacked! I finished 120th fastest of 345 finishers, and got my first ever Silver Medal. I'm so chuffed I could burst! (perhaps after the Etape)

Exit, Stage Front!

Weighing in
This week 98.5kg
Weight loss this week 1.9kg

Now that's what I call dehydration!

Miles last week 148
Longest ride 115 miles

75% of the First Time Etappers headed off the White Rose Challenge, the only absentee being Brett, who was spending another weekend in the company of his good friend, Beer. OK, he did have a wedding to attend, but we have his measure. (It's a half-pint, or perhaps a 'short')

A beautiful day was forecast and duly arrived. We registered fairly swiftly, and after faffing about for a bit too long, got started at about 7:45. The first sections are tough, but not too harsh, and Grassington was reached in a decent average speed (Mark & Mike were both well gone, though, by this point on their way to Silver and Gold respectively).

I gather that the upper part of Wharfedale, above Buckden is referred to as Langstrothdale, and it is without doubt one of my favourite places, and epitomises Dales countryside. It also gives me chance to test the new cameraphone, thus:

It's easy to let the average speed drop in such places, just to give yourself more time to look around. But with work to be done, Fleet Moss is soon upon you, and HRM's get noisy. On this occasion, for 3 minutes less than the Etape du Dales, result.

After Hawes, the WRC cuts across to the Coal Road, another climb I first experienced on EdD. I matched my 21 minute ascent, but that's where the good news ends. On the descent, I lost a contact lens near the top. Deciding to renew bi-focal vision at the bottom, I continued down, trying not to brake too hard or long and heat up the rims as badly as last time.

Rounding the second of the three sharp bends at the bottom of the Coal Road, a loud PHUT! and 1 second deflation of the front tyre announced my lack of success. I had a choice at this point, try to corner downhill on a flat tyre (impossible), crash in the road (painful) or attempt a semi-controlled crash landing on the grass verge/bank (the least unattractive of the three options). I managed the feat, leaving the bike over the handlebars and perfecting a forward half-somersault by landing on a combination of head & shoulder. The GPS says I slowed to 11kmh before this happened, I'm glad it was no faster.

25 minutes later, I was re-contact lensed, the Trek was re-shod and the chain re-loaded, and I was back on the road, all hopes of Silver now gone. The rest of the day is a blur (thankfully) of cramping legs, caused by a combination of not drinking enough, and strained back as a result of the fall. I think I experienced my first real 'bonk' on the hill out of Stainforth. All forward motion ceased amid dead legs and cold sweats in the 24 degree heat. I'll try not to repeat that one, thanks.

By the finish I had a top speed, cramp-free, of a massive 15 kmh and couldn't even walk up Langbar without stopping, but at least that gives good photo opportunities:


In the end I crossed the line in a fraction over 9 hours 28 minutes, at the end of a very "bad day at the office". I just have to convince myself that its not all bad, and is still inside Etape pace despite all mishaps.

For weeks now, we have been discussing how it would only take one accident to ruin 2 entire years of training. Sunday was the day of that accident. I am fortunate in many ways to have got through it relatively unscathed (nothing the chiropractor cannot fix) and am still going to France, hopefully the wiser for it. Certainly I shall be running less pressure on thicker rim tapes (the inner tube had punctured where it had pushed into the spoke holes on the rim).

One milestone of note, somewhere around the Langbar climb/walk, I passed through 8,000 miles of training for this Etape.

More details on WRC are on my 'Sportive' blog on cyclosport.org