Sprinters make their reputation over a few seconds when the road is wide and the gradient is benign. Over the years they're have undoubtedly been some sprinting legends but if you read the stories of past winners of the Tour there will be tales of attacks or collapses and invariably winning moves and these come in the mountains. Not always but it is unlikely that you win the Tour without being an excellent climber.
(Normal voice now, no music over the top)
Mountain stages come in two forms, with the finish on a descent/flat or the more important the finish on the summit. The descent finish gives the opportunity for those not so strong to recover and limit losses. The summit finish is a different matter, there is no recovery and these are the crucial stages where the big time gaps occur. For the Pyrenees we have 3 stages, one a straight descent (Saturday), one a short descent with a final little rise (Today) and then big stage on Sunday with the finish on the summit of the Arcalis.
The drive today was just 120 miles, from Moissac, jumping on the motorway almost straight away (yes a peage, yes smacked my head on it). I did pop in to the supermarket to grab more drink and some lunch and it appeared to be the old people of Moissac shopping morning. Hundreds of them. The woman in front of me tried to steal my tissues (terrible hayfever) as she couldn't find hers in her already packed shopping, even the checkout lady got involved. I didn't speak and just pointed at myself to say they were mine, she kept going, flicking through her shopping, muttering, glaring. I wish that I had learnt French properly so i could have said 'if you stop glaring at me for a second you will see they are not in your shopping bag, they are in your trolley, under you nose, now good day'.
The drive down took me through the outskirts of Toulouse, the first big city we have sort of seen and then eventually as we headed further South with signs for Barcelona appearing, the
mountains started to appear, first just an outline through the clouds, then in front of us like a natural blockade and then eventually on either side of me as I made my way along the valley floor.
I was on 'Hors Course' for most of the journey, spotting various team lorries making their way to the team hotels. These are the mechanics and every day they will clean and strip down each of the 9 bikes and have them ready, in the riders particularly set up each morning.
I had to make a tactical decision to come off the Hors Course. The logistics of the race in the mountains is much harder than your normal finish, with a very limited road network, it means finding a way in to a point even reasonably close is much harder. I decided to come off early and make my way through the finish of tomorrow's stage, Bagneres de Luchon and then up and over the col de Peyresourde, coming into Arreau at the base of the Aspin and it worked perfectly. Parked up, got changed, made lunch and cycled up a mountain. Driving over the mountains is always spectacular and the views in the late afternoon sun made being stuck by the worlds oldest and slowest motor home bearable.
The Col D'Aspin is a category 1 climb, hard but not your HC. From this direction it's 12km at an
average of 6.9% with one km averaging 9% and its 30 degrees at least and I was carrying a rucksack (can you see where this is going?).
The road is typically closed for the whole day of the race, sometimes earlier if it is getting crowded already. However, up to a certain time bikes are allowed to ride up. When I reached the mountain it was 1pm and there was a steady stream of bikes going up. The road side was particularly busy on the lower slopes and though it started to thin out it was never clear on any of its 12km's. There was a very big Spanish contingent, though I should actually say there was a very big Basque contingent. Spain is roughly 10km from Luchon so not a surprise. There was a good smattering of Union Jacks, including the same Yorkshire couple I met on the climb two days ago. I worked my way up and eventually reached the summit. We were reaching the point when they stopped bikes moving around and I should have turned round when i initially stopped at about 150m to go but there was the summit and who doesn't want to finish a climb. Once there, like the other bikes I was stopped from going back down, so rather than being on the roadside I was up at the summit where they have barriers. It was fine though, big flag was laid out on the hillside, little flag on the bike and i ate my lunch, got some race updates from friends and completely ignored the publicity caravan which felt great :). I had a spot about 20 yards back on a slope looking down on to the road and could also see back down the mountain.
Eventually the helicopters came into view, one following the leader and one the main group of favourites. You could make out the lead motorbikes and official cars and just about make out the tiny figure of the cyclist and then he was upon us, everyone cheers, claps, shouts, bang boards or whatever they want to do and he is gone again. Then we do it all again for the next riders and then the favourites and the dribs and drabs that come next and the autobus of sprinters, all getting the same treatment. Probably the biggest cheers were kept for Michael Morkov of Katusha. He was injured in a crash at the end of stage one and has carried on despite clearly not being right. He has finished last or nearly last every day but there is an honour in reaching Paris and he may recover and be able to help his team later in the race. Two days ago the crowd chanted his name as he came up the climb, today he was treated like the local hero. There have been stories of fans doing stuff to Froome in the past but in a race where for 21 days the road side is almost constantly lined up with people, you'll get some idiots but certainly from what I have seen up to now everyone just wants to see this event and be part of it.
Talking of events, riding up a mountain is pretty hard, watching the stage is easy as long as you have water and sun tan lotion (my word it's been warm). Getting off the mountain again is a completely different matter. So I'm starting at the summit heading back down the way I came. At the top you have bikes and people in the road heading in the same direction, people not walking down the side, too simple, anywhere they fancy. You also have the people who have come up the other way, or who have parked at the top, so they are coming at you, people and bikes. Obviously when you ride a bike, when going downhill it naturally picks up speed. The steeper the descent the more the bike wants to pick up speed so you have to fight the bikes will to accelerate. Then we have the camper vans and the odd cars that had parked up in advance. They are being swarmed by the bikes which descend much faster than cars or motorhomes who are also trying to avoid pedestrians, which means that they swerve while bikes are overtaking them. So this mess comes stumbling down the mountain and all hits the tiny little picturesque town at the bottom. At one point I took a photo of the traffic just as a 5 yard gap opened up but leading nowhere. The camper van beeped me! So I sort of half turned and asked it (no swearing) where it thought it was going to go? This was all fine because he wouldn't understand me, the third time (I like to make a point) I looked round to see a GB number plate at which point I laughed and so did he. I went round to the drivers side and said that I thought i was safe as no one would know what I was shouting. He laughed and said he was only joking to which I said that he was right though it was a stupid place to take a photo. Oh how we laughed. Then I punched him (I didn't...I didn't).
The drive to the hotel tonight was very smooth and not that far, I was bumped from my original
hotel and instead I'm staying in an Auberge (nope, me neither) at the summit of another Col, the Col de Mente at 1349m. It's actually very nice and I even had a non-pizza dinner, though that annoyingly included a random slice of bacon that wasn't on the menu (oh France, why?) I hope the couple next to me didn't notice me putting it in the serviette then stuffing it in my shorts pocket.
For a small auberge?? We've had a girl crying for 40 minutes and then leaving - to go where? Then a Spanish gentleman who at 11pm appeared to be walking along the one corridor communicating with someone in Spain by shouting at them.
I appear to have rambled on far to long so it must be stat time
Miles driven so far - 1515 (I think yesterday's number was wrong - sorry)
Cheese of the day - another Tomme de savoie
Were they her tissues - no
Times seen the peleton go past - 9
Stages I've not been spotted on TV - 2
Accidents seen coming off the mountain - 2
To finish - a quick story of stupidity. So I'm in my spot, which I should say is normally a cow field and I decided to take a walk further up to see what the view is like and maybe use the facilities (open air). I'm in cycling kit and just socks as I forgot my flip flops. I get so far up when i reach a wire fence, just a single wire. Now I know what an electric fence looks like and I think we can all agree that the worst way to find out if it is on is to tap it...especially if after two non-events you tap it a third time. Zap, swear, ouch, Jesus, Tim you twat, stumble away from fence. What the hell anyone would that witnesses that I have no idea.
No comments:
Post a Comment