It seems a long time ago but London was in riot meltdown. I was just about to drive with Dom to France in the Land Rover. Problem was that I needed a new back wheel rebuilding after the Haywards Heath Howler.
Enter Mike, Ciaran and the guys at Push Cycles who came to my rescue. They had their own problems going on - making sure that their great range of bikes did not end up on some looter's shopping list. Despite this, they quickly built me a new wheel and got me on my way. Much appreciated guys!
So to the Alps:
First up was one Dom and I had done before last year. Tough up to Les Linderets but ok after that. And the Joux Verte is beautiful.
Dom was not feeling great on the hills. Something that dogged him through the trip. This was Captain Rapha, the original inspiration for me and Tim. The survivor of the infamous Cape Argus Tour of Storms.
But Jake, his son, made sure the O'Neil family name was held high with a strong performance on the first day. In fact most times on the rides, my godson was in front of me proving that it was about the fitness and not about the drugs or the bike.
And you have to remember, according to some, Tim is a world class athlete (though looking a bit like Fred Scuttle aka Benny Hill here). To reinforce those athletic credentials, he had also conquered Ventoux before he had arrived. Chapeau, mon amis.
So it was Tim, myself and Jake who made it up to Alvoriaz.
All 4 of us set off on another beautiful day. Col de Ramaz is a toughie and took its toll a bit on Dom but we got up there. Tim set a strong pace and as Dom and I have discovered previously, once Tim has a pace, he needs to continue it to the finish. Consequently, he was way ahead of us.
One of the best team memories was having a relaxed drink outside a cafe above the tunnel. Ah the tunnel - Dom's bête noire (he must have been scared by one as a child). He hated it last year and detested it with a passion this year. I understand this as it is an exhausting heavy gradient with the cars in the tunnel making it sound like the Severn Bore is creeping up behind you.
So, the cafe was a well- needed stop:
Yes actually we had another bit to go but why let the truth get in the way of a celebratory drink? So after the break, we four, as a well-honed peloton, hit the top and then plunged down into Taninges at a rapid descent back to base camp.
Result: Col De Ramaz conquered.
Well it was not all cycling. It was also a holiday for family and friends as well and it was a fantastic time with everyone.
Anyway enough of this non-cycling talk - back to the Joux de Plane which eluded us in terms of time last year. This is where Lance Armstrong famously bonked. It has been described as "murderous" and some regard it harder than the Alpe d'Huez. But this year there were no excuses - it had to be tackled.
In the end, it was Tim and I who climbed this while Dom and Holly pursued us later, filming me and Tim reaching the summit at various times. Quite understandably, Tim left me for dead but I wasn't going to give up or get off and I finished it in 1hrs 23. Tim finished a very impressive 15 mins ahead of me but reckoned it was harder than Ventoux. It was one of the days where I felt strong and although the first bit was probably a 15 degree gradient to begin with, there were parts where you could recover.
Descending into Samoens made us realise that we had ascended the easier side. Though don't get me wrong, it was no shabby performance from Tim and me.
"..and this is Tim Marlow reporting from the war zone that is Joux de Plane."
Maybe I was still feeling cocky about the Joux de Plane. Maybe I had celebrated previously too much. Or just maybe setting off at midday in 31 degrees wasn't the best idea. Whatever, I was sharply reminded that you have to give these Cols respect or else they reap their revenge.Despite having done it a few days previously, I was metaphorically on my knees most of the time up until Les Lindarets, the goat village. Finally the gradient slackened off, we relaxed into the ride and we made it to the top.
After the descent, the sight of Lake Montriond and its restaurant at base level was a welcome one:
Now it was time for a road trip for myself and Dom. Mont Ventoux and Alpe d'Huez were our original plan in the second week but we were running out of time. I could tell Dom was not feeling up to these hills but I am so glad he still went through with the trip nevertheless.
Tim had impressed us with an early assault on Ventoux and all the Tommy Simpson/ Pantani stories are part of the Tour de France's folklore. It had to be done but were we ready? The stats told it how it was: A Haute Categorie hill - Altitude 1912m, average gradient 7.6% with maximum being 10.7%. The pictures put it in context; it is like a moonscape at the top with temperatures ranging from freezing to scorching and winds being recorded at 193 mph!
The approach to Sault is a beautiful landscape - vineyards, medieval villages perched on hillsides and lavender fields everywhere. We stayed overnight in Sault, fed and watered well there but both of us slept badly.
After breakfast Dom decided to pull out. He said however he would be the best soigneur on the hill. And he was - both in helping me prepare and then on the road. I could not have done it without him - a real friend to put his ambitions on hold and then help me achieve mine.
Despite the support, it was with leaden pedals I started off up into the hills. It did not feel good. In fact I thought there was something with my brakes slowing me down. But no, it was a bad night's sleep and a winding road of false flats.
Luckily two Belgians came past after 45 mins into it and I knew I had to cling onto their backwheel. I did like Superglue and they started talking to me. Suddenly my mood changed and I had revitalised energy, even taking my turn up front.
Suddenly I was leading the Belgians to Chalet Reynard where they broke off for a break and where Dom was. The combination of the revitalised energy and Dom's shout from the sidelines like a St Anselm's parent was what I needed to brace myself for what I saw before me - a lighthouse-type tower embedded on top of a steep and winding hill. It was "dig-in deep" time.
And I managed to conquer that last bit which is hellish.When the winds whip up, it's a tough gig. But I did it - in 2hrs 07 - yeah I got totally blown from one side of the road to another on the final bend, felt totally spacey at the top because I was just about to bonk but I did it! It felt good but a bit unreal.
Tim had impressed us with an early assault on Ventoux and all the Tommy Simpson/ Pantani stories are part of the Tour de France's folklore. It had to be done but were we ready? The stats told it how it was: A Haute Categorie hill - Altitude 1912m, average gradient 7.6% with maximum being 10.7%. The pictures put it in context; it is like a moonscape at the top with temperatures ranging from freezing to scorching and winds being recorded at 193 mph!
The approach to Sault is a beautiful landscape - vineyards, medieval villages perched on hillsides and lavender fields everywhere. We stayed overnight in Sault, fed and watered well there but both of us slept badly.
After breakfast Dom decided to pull out. He said however he would be the best soigneur on the hill. And he was - both in helping me prepare and then on the road. I could not have done it without him - a real friend to put his ambitions on hold and then help me achieve mine.
Despite the support, it was with leaden pedals I started off up into the hills. It did not feel good. In fact I thought there was something with my brakes slowing me down. But no, it was a bad night's sleep and a winding road of false flats.
Luckily two Belgians came past after 45 mins into it and I knew I had to cling onto their backwheel. I did like Superglue and they started talking to me. Suddenly my mood changed and I had revitalised energy, even taking my turn up front.
Suddenly I was leading the Belgians to Chalet Reynard where they broke off for a break and where Dom was. The combination of the revitalised energy and Dom's shout from the sidelines like a St Anselm's parent was what I needed to brace myself for what I saw before me - a lighthouse-type tower embedded on top of a steep and winding hill. It was "dig-in deep" time.
And I managed to conquer that last bit which is hellish.When the winds whip up, it's a tough gig. But I did it - in 2hrs 07 - yeah I got totally blown from one side of the road to another on the final bend, felt totally spacey at the top because I was just about to bonk but I did it! It felt good but a bit unreal.
So a quick visit to the Tom Simpson memorial on the way down - very poignant at the top of the world in the midst of all this sports endeavour.
Then carb-loading back at the Chalet Reynard and off in the Land Rover in the direction of Alpe d'Huez.
Before the holiday I was saying to Kate that I was improving at sportives but I was still painfully bad at getting up hills. She asked "So, why are you going to the Alps to climb some of the hardest hills on the Tour?" Well, I asked myself that question a number of times on the holiday. Never more so on the first gradient of the Alpe d’Huez.
Despite the terrible overnight storms keeping me up, despite someone assembling what seemed like a light aircraft under my bedroom window at 4am (turned out to be the market stalls being built – how quaint), I had felt good when I got up. No really bad aches from the day before. I felt optimistic and ready for the challenge.
Before breakfast, I went to see how wet the roads were going to be and although there was mist on the mountain, the roads were quite dry. I returned to the hotel and fell into conversation with some tourers from Dulwich Paragons – one of them was the organiser of the Ride of the Falling Leaves. I told him I had signed up for the ride in October and we swapped stories. They left me in no doubt that the climb would not be some mystical experience. It was going to be tough and gritty – something to complete rather than savour.
Well, I knew exactly what they meant when I encountered the first hill. It was a shocking incline and if it continued like this then, it was time to get the shovel out and dig in deep again – for the other 20 hairpin bends. But you get into a rhythm and by the time Dom first came past I had covered quite some ground and was in good spirits, mimicking to him the very entertaining, mad Austrian guy on Youtube, with shouts of Kool and the Gang songs and suggesting “Eye of the Tiger” as the soundtrack for me reaching the summit.
But those bends are relentless and although 21 are marked, I am sure there are a lot of more – probably just not the definition of hairpin as the UCI has established. So you just keep on going.
It was a Saturday and a bit like Ventoux it is a mecca for Dutch, Belgian, Franch cyclists so there were a number of others on the hill but I really got hacked off with everyone being too cool for school and not acknowledging each other’s presence. I know on that sort of hill you are not going to kick back and shoot the breeze casually because you are at full exertion. But a “salut”, “bonjour” or “jeez, this is hard” would have sufficed.
Having said that, one Dutch guy did let me know that we were a third of the way up and that was good because I thought we had made more ground so I mentally recalibrated my energy reserves.
And with the names of Schleck, Contador, Voeckler etc painted on the roads and a sign at each hairpin celebrating the stage winners through the years, you cannot get away from the fact you are cycling in the wake of cycling giants.
And the Dulwich Paragons were right; actually the hairpin bends are where you can get breath back. But I disagree with them that it is without pleasure. Yes it very tough, very gritty. Yet it is one of the few places where you see from the road on each bend how far you have climbed up from Bourg d’Oisans and as the mist lifted the mountainscape was inspiring.
Dom positioned himself at regular intervals and was great support but after the Huez village and Dutch Corner, he could not park and that’s where the climb really took its toll. So I was on my own, battling away at the hill - still.
The final stage is where you can see the top but a bit like Ventoux, the mountain is not going to make it easier for you; you have to earn this accolade. And I passed a few people who were seriously struggling. By that stage Dom had reappeared and sensed my flagging spirits so gave me the encouragement enough to turn that last killer bend and head up the last brutal hill. On the ridge of the last bit, it was a pity that Dom did not have BBC-quality sound equipment for his video camera as, in my best Austrian accent, I paid homage to the greats who had made it to the top “Greg LeMond, Marco Pantani, Lance Armstrong, Bobby Charlton, Jackie Charlton...”.
Dom positioned himself at regular intervals and was great support but after the Huez village and Dutch Corner, he could not park and that’s where the climb really took its toll. So I was on my own, battling away at the hill - still.
The final stage is where you can see the top but a bit like Ventoux, the mountain is not going to make it easier for you; you have to earn this accolade. And I passed a few people who were seriously struggling. By that stage Dom had reappeared and sensed my flagging spirits so gave me the encouragement enough to turn that last killer bend and head up the last brutal hill. On the ridge of the last bit, it was a pity that Dom did not have BBC-quality sound equipment for his video camera as, in my best Austrian accent, I paid homage to the greats who had made it to the top “Greg LeMond, Marco Pantani, Lance Armstrong, Bobby Charlton, Jackie Charlton...”.
"What next?"
But let’s get it in context. This brute of a mountain at 1850m with average gradient of 8% and max of 13% from Bourg d’Oisans to the summit is 14.5km. Marco Pantani holds the record of 37 minutes. I however did it in 1 hour 37 minutes. Some way to go yet, methinks.
No comments:
Post a Comment