The Etape's real hero

On (my) last climb of the Etape, the Col de Notre-Dame des Abeilles (which I think translates to something like the mountain pass of Our Lady the Queen Bee) I passed a woman slowly riding to the top.

I noticed her for a number of reasons .....

It's a male dominated sport, so you tend to notice when someone of the opposite sex is cycling. As a side issue, I have to say I was quite disappointed to find out the Las Vegas Lesbians were in fact from Vancouver .. It's not at all alliterative, but regardless of where they were from, they were great bike riders - I rode & chatted with Nicole (the short one) for a couple of hours during the Etape, until she dropped me on the climb into Sault;

This woman was wearing an all red outfit, so even amongst the peacock parade that is road cycling, she (sort of) stood out; for what's it's worth, my wife thinks all cyclists are either colour blind or can't co-ordinate.

At the start of the day, I was mixing it on the road with 9,500 other lunatics. When I passed her, maybe half way up Abeilles, we were at the tail of the ride, so there weren't many people around.

Mid 40's, sort of attractive (I wonder if she thought the same about me?), and doing it tough on the climb.

I didn't really think about her again until a couple of hours later.

There I was, on the laughing bus, somewhere in the traffic jam between Bedoin and Chalet Reynard (which is just after the road passes the tree line for those of you who watched the stage on TV) when, still plodding along, she slowly cycled passed the bus.

When we eventually started to move we passed her, but soon after we had to stop again, and she passed us. We overtook her a second time, then the traffic cleared and we were on our way to the top of Ventoux.

I didn't really think about her again until I passed her while I was descending (like a lunatic) to Malacuene.

It had taken me 5 hours to get from Bedoin to that point. Three and a half of them sitting on a bus, 90 minutes or so watching trucks being unloaded (and I had a beer while I was waiting). I don't know if she stopped, I don't know if she got off her bike and pushed it in the steep sections (lots of people did), I don't know if she had a beer at the place near the top of Ventoux (it was very good beer) but do I know she got to the top, maybe very slowly, but under her own steam.

Well done!

Corsican salade dressing

For my last proper meal before the long schlepp home (and endless airline meals), I'm eating in a tiny Corsican place here in Avignon: Mamma Corse.

I'm being attended to by, I'm guessing, Mamma herself. As I said it's a tiny place.

This evening I've formulated a new rule of dining: never order a wine that costs less than the average main course.

The Corsican rose` (sorry, can't get the accent working on this keyboard) I'm drinking is vile, but then it's only €12 for a bottle. Mains are €15 to 17. Maybe if it gets a little colder in the wine bucket it'll improve.

The salade was brilliant, with a wonderful, fragrant & sweet dressing. I need to learn how to say "how do you make this salade dressing?" as part of my ongoing French language studies.

And for Sir's main course: Le Poulet Farci (the c needs one of those underneath comas) - a baked chicken breast, stuffed with chevre and wrapped in ham. Nothing better than three animals all contributing to one plate, accompanied by polenta and roast eggplant.

Excellent. Ce Bon! Parfait!

I can't fit desert (how do they say "would Sir care for just one little wafer?" in Corsica?) and regrettably the wine hasn't improved as it's gotten colder.

But a great meal.

A long day (with a pic)

Waiting to start
Originally uploaded by ndorloff

I tackled the Etape today.

4 am out of bed, left the hotel at 5, and we were in the start village of Montelimar around 6.

The event started at 7, but we were sent off in groups of about 1,000 - I was 7017 and rolled over the start line at 7:30, with the cut off vehicle leaving about 15 minutes later - you have to stay in front or hand in your transponder.

Riding with that many people was amazing, although a little hairy on the narrow roads getting out of town.

I had a flat on the first descent (25k in) then problems with my pump that saw me riding 30k or so with a half flat front.

And I worked out how to take a leak without getting off the bike - just make sure you aim away from your bidons!

The next couple of hours went well. And I was holding my target average pace of mid to high 20's. Mid teens on the climbs, 50 to 60 on the descents.

In every village we passed it seemed the entire population was out, clapping as we passed, calling out "Allez!" and "Bravo!". Every farmhouse had someone sitting in a chair on the roadside waving and cheering.

But it was hot - the temperature was mid 30's for most of the day - and I didn't have any electrolyte replacement powder (long story, but basically I made a dumb mistake - I've been training hard in cool & cold weather and I simply didn't think to bring any).

On the third climb of the day (up to Aurel) I started struggling, and despite being hosed down by a local in the village near the top and a wild 60+k descent I was pretty much stuffed.

I was pouring the water in, but it felt like it was just sitting there, sloshing around in my stomach.

And I was sick of the taste of carbo gels and powerbars - they're too sweet if you're not eating anything else.

The next climb - Col De Notre Damme Des Abeilles - knocked me about. It was a tough climb with two false summits - you think you've reached the top, descend for a km or so, and it starts to climb again; twice. After another great descent (10k at 55 to 65 on empty wide sweeping roads) I crawled into Bedouin maybe 5 minutes ahead of the cut off time.

I had to make a decision: tackle 21k of Mt. Ventox, or pull the pin. I didn't want to spend the next two hours looking over my shoulder for the cut off car. OK, perhaps I could have handed in my timing chip and finished outside the allotted time, but I just didn't think I had the climb left in me.

I pulled over, leant my bike against a wall and walked into the nearest cafe for a beer.

They reckon 30% don't finish; unfortunately I became part of that statistic.

Riding finished, but .....

I put my bike on truck and the climbed on the sad bus. Which then took three and a half hours to climb the 21k to the summit (the finish village was on the other side, and there is only one road up).

Here's something you might be able to guess for yourself - 50 blokes who've ridden 150k in the scorching heat all sitting in a confined space don't smell very nice.

At the finish village we were treated to some very French logistics. They refused to unload more than one truck at a time; and despite truck 4 (that had my bike) arriving ahead of truck 2, truck 2 had to be unloaded first.

90 minutes after arriving at the finish village I was finally back in the saddle for a brilliant 20k run down the mountain to meet the tour company's bus.

A shower, dinner, a couple of glasses of local Rose (quite nice) and I'm off to bed.

And the mountain will still be here next time I'm in Provence, so maybe next time I'll give the Giant a better showing.

A very long day

I tackled the Etape today.

4 am out of bed, left the hotel at 5, and we were in the start village of Montelimar around 6.

The event started at 7, but we were sent off in groups of about 7,000 - I was 7017 and rolled over the start line at 7:30, with the cut off vehicle leaving about 15 minutes later - you have to stay in front or hand in your transponder.

Riding with that many people was amazing, although a little hairy on the narrow roads getting out of town.

I had a flat on the first descent (25k in) then problems with my pump that saw me riding 30k or so with a half flat front.

And I worked out how to take a leak without getting off the bike - just make sure you aim away from your bidons!

The next couple of hours went well. And I was holding my target average pace of mid to high 20's. Mid teens on the climbs, 50 to 60 on the descents.

In every village we passed it seemed the entire population was out, clapping as we passed, calling out "Allez!" and "Bravo!". Every farmhouse had someone sitting in a chair on the roadside waving and cheering.

But it was hot - the temperature was mid 30's for most of the day - and I didn't have any electrolyte replacement powder (long story, but basically I made a dumb mistake - I've been training hard in cool & cold weather and I simply didn't think to bring any).

On the third climb of the day (up to Aurel) I started struggling, and despite being hosed down by a local in the village near the top and a wild 60+k descent I was pretty much stuffed.

I was pouring the water in, but it felt like it was just sitting there, sloshing around in my stomach.

And I was sick of the taste of carbo gels and powerbars - they're too sweet if you're not eating anything else.

The next climb - Col De Notre Damme Des Abeilles - knocked me about. It was a tough climb with two false summits - you think you've reached the top, descend for a km or so, and it starts to climb again; twice. After another great descent (10k at 55 to 65 on empty wide sweeping roads) I crawled into Bedouin maybe 5 minutes ahead of the cut off time.

I had to make a decision: tackle 21k of Mt. Ventox, or pull the pin. I didn't want to spend the next two hours looking over my shoulder for the cut off car. OK, perhaps I could have handed in my timing chip and finished outside the allotted time, but I just didn't think I had the climb left in me.

I pulled over, leant my bike against a wall and walked into the nearest cafe for a beer.

They reckon 30% don't finish; unfortunately I became part of that statistic.

Riding finished, but .....

I put my bike on truck and the climbed on the sad bus. Which then took three and a half hours to climb the 21k to the summit (the finish village was on the other side, and there is only one road up).

Here's something you might be able to guess for yourself - 50 blokes who've ridden 150k in the scorching heat all sitting in a confined space don't smell very nice.

At the finish village we were treated to some very French logistics. They refused to unload more than one truck at a time; and despite truck 4 (that had my bike) arriving ahead of truck 2, truck 2 had to be unloaded first.

90 minutes after arriving at the finish village I was finally back in the saddle for a brilliant 20k run down the mountain to meet the tour company's bus.

A shower, dinner, a couple of glasses of local Rose (quite nice) and I'm off to bed.

And the mountain will still be here next time I'm in Provence, so maybe next time I'll give the Giant a better showing.

Signing on

I'm in Montelimar, the start point for tomorrow's Etape. It's also well known for it's nougat. And probably not much else from the look of it.

Don't get me wrong, it's a very pretty town, but I don't think much happens here on a Sunday.

Except today there are 9,500 cyclists in town to sign on for tomorrow's adventure.

Very few women (other than the Las Vegas lesbians), it's mostly men in their 30's and 40's, all looking fit and very few with hair on their legs.

The registration process was painless, as you'd expect from an organisation that's done this 19 or 20 times before.

Line up in your number group - I'm 7017 - sign the paperwork and they give you an envelope.

Next stop, collect a t-shirt.

Next have your timing chip activated.

Then collect your back pack, containing a few freebies, and the official part of the day was completed.

There is an area setup displaying, and of course selling, all sorts of things that a cyclist might need for tomorrow. From a $15,000 Trek bike (the same one as Lance rides) to a pair of socks.

I managed to remember to pack both my bike & socks, so I didn't really need anything.

I wanted an official Etape jersey, but by the time we got here they only had Small and Very Large left.

I wandered around looking at and listening to all the people - lots of English accents - collected a few freebies (a nice Skoda hat & a Tour de France mouse mat) and bought a great ice cream: two scoops, peach and pear.

In the end I succumbed to a little shopping: A new helmet; a copy of Rouler magazine (bike porn at it's finest), a wind breaker (don't want to get cold on the 20k descent tomorrow) and a classic Molteni / Campagnolo jersey, just like Merckx used to wear.

Now it's back on the bus to Valence, watch the end of today's stage into Verbier, and get to bed early - I'm getting up at 4am.

Tintin

(The French pronounce it TanTan).

In the middle of a roundabout in Provance - it's the rocket from Tintin's Destination Moon!

I stupidly ate a baked spud & roast veggies for lunch (and it was delicious) then went for a 40k ride an hour later.

I spent the first 30k trying not to spew my guts out, then came good (around the time I saw the rocket).

I stopped to take the pic, then had to hammer for 10 mins or so to catch the bunch.

Seems to be a good group - mainly Aussies, a couple of great blokes from Canberra, Phil & Mick, who were on the train with me, and a lovely lesbian couple from Las Vegas (OK, I'm just assuming they're lesbians, but the short one is very butch).

Heading South

I love good infrastructure.

According to the GPS on my BlackBerry (techno nerd? Me?) the TGV I'm on is rocketing along at about 290 kph. And looking at how slow the cars on the autoroute look - having driven on French roads, I reckon they're probably doing 130 ~ 140 kph - it certainly looks like we're going bloody fast.

Guess what ... the train was scheduled to leave at 9:42 and it did. Connex, take a lesson please.

I'm heading south to Valence, where I'll be collected by BikeStyle Tours, the group that has arranged the accommodation, entries for the Etape, and most importantly, the transfers to the start village and the bus home from Ventoux.

There are a couple of guys from Canberra, Phil & Mick, in the carriage with me. With their bikes. On the same tour as me. We've chatted a bit, sized each other up, and in a very Aussie, self depreciating way, all down played our training and how well we might to do.

I'm a little concerned about the weather on Monday - the forecast is for low 30's. If I'd been training in the heat it wouldn't bother me, but my last few hard rides started at 3 and rose to maybe 12 degrees. I guess I should start my pre event hydration today, rather than rely on just a couple of glasses of water on the morning of the ride.

Liberte, egalite & a bit of shopping

We had a very French holiday yesterday.

Headed off in the morning to see some of the Bastille Day parade along Champs Elysee. Along with about 500,000 others.

We ended up in a side street, near the Arc de Triompe, with the kids hanging off the fence of the Quatari Embassy to see what was going on.

When the parade finished we wandered off down Ave de Friedland, which it turns out is one of the streets that the Army was using to marshal it's vehicles for their return to base.

So we ended up with our own private parade.

The dress uniforms - from the tank drivers with their snappy cravats, to the Elysee Palace guards with their swords - were amazing, and to a man (and the occasional lady solider) they all looked very proud to be taking part.

We grabbed a bite of lunch and then hit the shops for a few hours - the kids all bought new sneakers, and the boss ended up with a new pair of Jimmy Choos. Apparently between the sale price and getting the detaxe back, they were almost giving them away.

Dinner was excellent, we went overboard on bivalves: oysters then moules & frites, with an, um, interesting Corsican white (better than North African red).

By the time we'd finished eating, it was time to scale Montmartre and stand outside Sacre Coeur to see the fireworks.

And I reckon nearly everyone who was on Champs Elysee that morning had the same idea.

If you want to see fireworks from a crowd, you need to be tall. I'm not, and my kids certainly aren't either.

Someone decided to climb on the dusty Renault that we were standing next to. So I lifted the kids, carefully, on to the bonnet just as the show started.

I spent the next 20 minutes listening to fireworks while the kids told me what was happening. And 3 kids and a couple of adults on a Renault was nothing compared to the 20 or so on the transit van across from us.

We stumbled home after the show and collapsed into bed.

A very French holiday indeed.

In an old house in Paris ...

In an old house in Paris all covered in vines, lived 12 little girls in 2 straight lines.

OK, maybe this isn't the house that Madeline lived in (she was the smallest one) but we're having the sort of fun that Pepito could only dream of.

It's the Tour de France's rest day, so I had to find something to do for the afternoon other than sit in cafes, drink beer (carbo loading?) and watch bike racing.

So we headed to Parc Asterix.

Not as many rides were as on topic as I would have liked - where was the chariot racing? Roman bashing? wild boar roasting? Nonetheless, we had fun, stood in lines (long lines), went on rides, saw the dolphin show (no, I don't know if ancient Gauls had dolphin shows) and just hung out.

Hanging out has to be the second most popular sport here - after cycling that is, well, maybe it comes in third after smoking.

It's a hanging out country.

I'm sitting in a park, hanging out, pecking this on the BlackBerry, while I watch one of my kids play a pick up soccer game with some French kids. No language barrier when you're 9.

Did I mention it's 9:30 pm?

We've just stuffed our faces at one of my favourite places in Paris - Chez Omar. Home of cous-cous like your mother never made. Moroccan pastries to stretch you belt and North African wine that tastes like what you'd expect North African wine to taste like.

Tomorrow it's Bastile Day, and I hope to see a parade and some fireworks. In the meantime, I'm going to ease the belt a notch, listen to the band playing in the park and watch my kids play.

Vive la France!

Inspector Clouseau would be pleased .....

My bike got a little knocked around on the flight from Melbourne to Nice.

Nothing too serious, one of the gear / brake levers was broken. Easy to fix, you just need the parts.

Surely in a cycling obsessed country this is a minor problem. You wish.

Sunday was out - nearly every shop is closed, and anyway I went to Grasse to watch the TdF.

Yesterday morning after a quick google, I found a cycle shop in nearby Cannes, put the bike in the car, fired up the GPS and off we went.

Except it was a MOTORcycle shop, and the only BIcycle shop he knew of was closed on Mondays. We found another shop in his yellow pages and headed off. 45 minutes later and 5 km up the road (have I mentioned the traffic yet?) we arrived to find it was closed on Mondays.

Later in the day I tracked down an open bike shop, near Grasse, maybe 10 km away. Off I went. They were open (I'd checked first), but they only stock Shimano parts and I ride Campagnolo.

They suggested another place, 15 minutes away in Pegomas who should be able to help, but they were - wait for it - closed on Mondays (and why not, I'd like to have Mondays off).

So Monday repairs were out of the question.

We headed off first thing this morning - well, the on holidays in France version of first thing, about 9:45 - to the shop in Pegomas. He was happy to fix it, but it would take a week as he didn't have the parts and would have to get them from the distributor. He suggested a shop in Cannes that might be able to help (it was the one we'd driven past yesterday that was closed) and off we went.

Same story, happy to help, but didn't have the parts. And very kindly called a shop in Le Cannet (5 km, 25 mins away) who - wonderful - had the parts!!!

This was the shop the motorcycle shop had suggested.

We arrived, and yes they were very happy to help. It will be ready tomorrow afternoon. No chance of today? I was given the Gallic version of "sorry mate, we're flat out" along with a shrug for good measure.

So I'll pick it up tomorrow after lunch.

And I'll be adding a gear / brake lever set to my travel kit.

Yes, I think Inspector Clouseau would be pleased.

Stage 2 - roadside report from Grasse.

My bike got a little knocked around on the flight from Melbourne. It's not too bad, and I'm not too stressed about it - any bike shop should be able to fix it.



It was Sunday yesterday, and in France nearly everything is closed, but we had more important things to do than worry about fixing my bike - Stage 2 of the Tour de France went through Grasse, about 15k from where we're staying.



I checked the road closure times, put some of the kids in the car and off we went.



Grasse is a pretty hilltop town, and we wandered around the centre for an hour or so, had ice creams & cold drinks, then found the TdF route and settled in to wait.



We sat on the side of the road for about 2 hours. There is a sponsor's 'caravane' that leads the Tour - 20 or so float vehicles, throwing things to spectators (the kids got a couple of caps), and keeping people interested while they wait.



I was starting to wonder this was this a smart thing to do - one of the boys was looking a little heat effected - when Le Tour arrived. A breakaway group of 4 (who survived 'up the road' until a few Km from the finish) flashed past, followed by a fleet of team & official cars.



5 minutes later, 176 cyclists flashed past. I saw the Saxo Bank team leading the peleton; I saw Lance; I saw Cadel, then they were gone.



We packed up, headed for home and a swim in the pool & a cold beer.



What a great day!!



Tomorrow I have to get my bike repaired.

I love to travel

This is what long haul travel looks like - there is always a school group (or a sporting team) flying on the cheapest tickets possible killing 6 or 7 hours dozing in an airport halfway to wherever they're going.

I'm not going to bang on about how boring long distance travel is, or how airports have become shopping malls, or how bad the person sitting across the isle always smells - these are the givens of travel.

I'm pecking this on the BlackBerry while camped out in Dubai airport - we're nearly in Nice, which will be very nice (sorry).

It a longish connection here - 4 hours: we've looked at shops, eaten Maccas (tastes the same as at home) and wandered around. Another hour or so and back on the 'plane.

I'm planning to be roadside on Sunday for Stage 1 of the Tour de France. It's passing about 15k from where we're staying, so we're all heading for Grasse to find a spot to watch the peleton whiz past. I'm excited, even if the kids aren't.