Week 4, and one day more!

The final week of Le Cycle Tour de France continued to dish up delights on a daily basis.  And, some pretty hard days.

I left Le Bourg d'Oisans on a stage route from this year's tour - one which I look forward to watching with friends on telly tomorrow night.  I'll be interested to see how the peloton fares, because I suffered like a dog!  

I was surprised to see the profile of the Col du Glandon after the fact, because my impression of it must have been affected by the effort up Alpe d'Huez the night before.  It had what seemed to be some ungodly steep sections, and a couple of descents which were surely screwing up the average uphill gradient.  Unlike the pros, I took a short detour to summit the Col de la Croix de Fer, before dropping back down to cross the Glandon.  

Before tackling the Col de la Madeleine, another side trip beckoned - this time to the first few kilometres of the Col du Chaussy climb (google images it!).  The Madeleine itself felt like less of a slog than the Glandon, perhaps due to the more constant gradient.  I met fellow Wellingtonian Silas Cullen near the bottom of the descent, and we rode together over the next col, before heading to his place.  I very much enjoyed staying there with his family, and conversations with them, and their dinner guests Sarah and Brendan, really had me hankering for home.

The next day I rode the Annecy-Semnoz stage of this year's tour on a whim.  It was a very hot day, and even without my gear felt pretty gruelling, particularly the hilltop finish on Semnoz.  It was good to get out though, and will be much more fun to watch the race coverage now!

Silas and I rolled out the following morning, and resumed the Le Grand Bornand stage with the  cat 1 Col de l'Epine before he left me to my own devices on the Col de la Croix Fry into Le Grand Bornand.  It was wet, and pretty cold up top.  I stripped down on the main street of Le Grand Bornand to put an undershirt on, before getting underway again.  I was bound for Morzine, and got there via the second half of the stage on which Floyd Landis went ballistic before being stripped of his victory:  first the cat 1 Col de la Colombiere, then a couple of "minor" bumps - which never seem to feel minor - before the HC Col du Joux Plane.  The descent of the latter sucked - the rain was very heavy and I in turn was heavily on the brakes the whole way down.

The next morning was another social highlight, and I had the pleasure of coffee with more Wellingtonians:  Steve and Nessa, and Mike the Hippy.  Following that, I had a cruisy ride through to Geneva, where I replaced my very square looking rear tyre, and then another couple of hours on the bike - and my fourth unmollested border crossing - to Bellegarde-sur-Valserine.  There, as my brother cleverly suggested, I got some Valserine intensive care, including a haircut from the most particular barber I've ever watched.

The following day's stage I'd been looking forward to all trip - a reverse of the 2012 stage from Macon - featuring the dramatic Col de la Grand Colombier.  Unfortunately, the road itself looks much better from a helicopter, but the views over the surrounding countryside well and truly made up for that.  I had a bit of a mare finding accommodation in Macon, but got something sorted before losing my rag.

The next morning I decided to take a short cut.  Instead of riding 35km to Bourg-en-Bresse, I rode 10km north of Macon, hooking into the stage about 30km in, thereby saving myself 55km riding, and ensuring I got to Semur-en-Auxois in time to see Chris Froome let loose on Ax-3-Domaines, an ascent I'd made myself a earlier in the trip (at about half the speed).  It was worth the sacrifice of "completing" the stage of the day.

I'd been unable to find anything to get me close to a stage town near Paris, so rode a route of my own design the next day.  It was a Sunday, and I got totally screwed over by the French tendency to shut up shop at midday.  Dinner added about 20km of riding (on top of about an hour's walk) to the day which was a drag, but ensured I cracked the 4,800km mark for the trip!  

The final assault on Paris, on the other hand, was about as good as I could've hoped for.  The only minor glitch was a road disappearing under a railway line through a tunnel in which bikes were "Interdit".  I wasn't prepared to run the gauntlet, but after a few minutes of hunting around found a pedestrian underpass prepared to share...

I was all set to unleash up the Champs-Elysees, (or at least try to), but both the traffic, and regular traffic lights (which strangely I'd never noticed in the tour coverage) put paid to that before my weary legs had a chance to!  I was fortunate some British tourists were on hand to prevent my celebratory photo being of my bike!

I spent the next day trying in vain to find some decent cycling-related souvenirs, before making my way out to the airport.  Four flights later, I was being welcomed home by my beautiful daughter, parents, brother, and friends Simon (with extra hug on behalf of Oli) and Ash!  That was a week ago, and while the fingers on my left hand are still numb, it's not the only thing that's followed me home.  So too has my awesome mood, and long may that last...

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I've got plenty of tales to tell that haven't made these short versions, nor feature in the photos on Facebook.  I'm not sure what form that might take.  At the very least, I'd like to do a quick blog with some fun stats from the trip - once I've compiled them.  Also, I'm thinking of putting together a slide show which might entertain a few friends one cold, winter's eve.

Trip of a lifetime?  CHECK.

Week 3, oui!

My third road week started with breakfast surrounded by Russian teenagers, on a school trip to Nimes and the surrounding area, I'd guess.

As with the previous day, today I'd just be cycle touring, and didn't actually have that far to cover. I was looking forward to seeing the Pont du Gard, an old Roman aqueduct, and was a bit surprised when my GPS bleated that I'd missed a turn.

The nice country lane turned into a rough driveway, which just stopped! Instead of doing the sensible thing and retracing my strokes, I walked and carried my bike for the next half an hour. A few minutes of bushbashing were needed to pick up some sweet singletrack, which of course I couldn't enjoy!

The bridge itself was stunning, and a real highlight of the non-riding side of the trip.

I got into Carpentras early, so hit up a laundromat, giving my kit its third wash of the trip. Between that and the rest, I felt like a new man when I rolled out the next morning.

I'd been nervous about this ride. I hadn't felt super in the Pyrenees, so three Cat 2 climbs followed by a Cat 4 one and then Mont Ventoux were intimidating. I barely gave a thought to the battle between Armstrong and Pantani on the same route 13 years earlier, and instead enjoyed one of my favourite days on the bike. The scenery was a bit less lush than I'd seen, and the Giant of Provence was often visible.

The main climb was long, about 1.40, but beautiful. Reaching the top at the end of a hilly 150km was satisfying, but no rest for the wicked and I had another 50km to ride to bed! At least a lot of it was downhill!

The next day was a 2013 stage, from Vaison-la-Romaine to Gap, which I very much look forward to watching them race when I get home.

This day too was beautiful, but in the more classical sense. The route passed through a stunning gorge, enhanced only slightly by the topless sunbather!!

The geology of this edge of the Alpes is absolutely amazing, with twisted, layered rock abound. After a long false flat, 40km worth, I had a steep descent into Gap, only to immediately leave town for a lap over Col de Manse. On the way down my rear gave an almighty squirm, causing my insides to do the same, on account of my first puncture since the outskirts of Paris, some 2950km ago!

The next day, I packed my bags and was off to Italy. Another stunning day scenery-wise, and while my legs had felt obviously jaded the day before, they seemed to have recovered somewhat.

The ride to Briancon was pretty easy, but things got steep after that with a Cat 2 climb into Italy, followed by the Cat 1 Sestrieres, and a nasty Cat 2 shortcut into Pinerolo. A highlight of the descent was recognising the carport Thomas Voeckler ended up in on that stage in 2011, and then finding a youtube clip of that same incident at the hotel after a shower!

I had what felt like an appropriately Italian dinner: pasta entree, pizza main course (which had me reeling not much more than half way through) followed by tiramisu!!! I was really busting at the seams on the short walk back to the hotel, but figured overeating would stand me in good stead for the next day's monster stage.

It all started well, and I was 40km in before I knew it. I got a bit reflective for a while. A feature of this trip has been a complete absence of symptoms of depression, and I got a bit freaked out at the looming transition back to real life. Kind of like getting out of jail, I guess!! The analogy isn't quite right in that I'm having an absolutely amazing time here, which I wouldn't expect in prison. But, things here are also arduous, and relatively unidimensional.

I convinced myself it would be what it would be, and resumed focus on forward momentum. And stopping every other minute to take a photo! I stopped at a village market for fruit, and only just managed to avoid getting taken home by a lovely old Signora.

A lunch stop followed soon after, about 1300m into the climb of Colle dell' Agnello. It got steep after lunch, with one section signposted as 14%. I was surprised that it felt significantly more manageable than similar gradients in the Pyrenees had. I have various theories, including legs not being thrashed from 250km days, potential weight loss, and training benefits!

The climb was stunning and I made regular photos stops. The border back into France was at the very top, but it was hard to enjoy on account of a very cold wind. I even busted out some of my evening wear for the descent, and was in better shape at the bottom as a result.

By the time I'd got over the next HC climb, the Col d'Izoard, and in to Briancon, the day had moved on. It was not only the 175km covered, and the roughly 4000vm climbed, but also the hundred photos, and multiple stops to pack and unpack suitable clothing.

The sun was low in the sky, and off the roads, and I decided I'd enjoy the final climb of the stage, the Galibier, another day!

The receptionist at the hotel had spent three months in Taupo, and convinced me Briancon would be a better place to rest up than Le Bourg-d'Oisans, my next destination, so I committed to two nights.

On Saturday morning I went for a short walk around the old part of town, and then put my feet up and watched the opening stage of the 100th Tour de France, commentated in French, by Cedric Vasseur and colleagues. I felt a bit bad seeing people ride past out the window, in what is a glorious sunny afternoon, but the rest was doing me good, and the significance of Saturday was more to them than me.

The next morning dawned with beautiful clear skies, and enjoyed the relatively mellow climb of the Galibier in mostly warm conditions. After a long descent to Le Bourg-d'Oisans, I ditched all but my coat, beanie, one bottle, pump, tube and patch kit, and gave the climb to Alpe d'Huez a good nudge with a bike that felt unfamiliarly light. It was cool to make the top within the hour. I then did an impromptu lap over Col de Sarenne, as per this year's tour.

I've now got 3495km on the clock after three weeks of riding (and a little bit of TV watching)! I'm feeling great both physically and mentally. My body's almost at 100%, with only the finger numbness to grizzle about.

Its hard to believe I'll be at Paris airport in a little over a week. Some sweet riding between here and there, no doubt!