Alarm set for 5 am, after rolling down yesterday to check out the start, work out how far and how long from my parents house in Broadbeach.  Collected kit , and prepped the bike, then spent the evening reviewing course and watching the weather.
Carbo loading compete, early to bed with the sound of boom crash opera ( not the band) in the background.
Up at 5 am to the sound of thunder, and a quick review of radar showed it was going to be one hell of a ride.
Today was about survival, very wet track, very hard climbs , and break neck descents. Ride to pace not ride to race my motto of the day…
The roll out was staggered, I started in the third pack at about 6:20am.
Into a driving rain we set off.
It was clear quickly I lucked out in terms of riders ready to ride,  so I bridged across to the group in front,  noting 3 Orica Greenedge guys on the side of the road with a flat/ mechanical. I thought I might see them shortly, and sure enough they  came flying past to really burst my bubble! The first 30 km was annoyingly rolling hills,  it was hard to settle into any sort of rhythm.  Then there was a horrible 30 degree climb which went for over a km,  before rolling down the other side before the start of the first of two miserable climbs,  Mt Tambourine. This thing started with 3-5 degrees, then steepened to 30 degrees, at which point I nearly fell two or three times as every time I stood in the saddle, the wet track caused me to loose traction forcing me back into the saddle. After 5 km I reached the KOM 1 but then looked up to find another 150m of vertical before finally reaching Mount Tambourine proper.

Once on the top it was Hard rolling hills ( down 10 degrees, up 20 degrees)  before finally being directed for a descent, at which time it was raining again and storm debris was everywhere. There was a traffic light on the back of the mountain  because the road was so narrow only one direction could go, I sat there and it was Pis#%ng down, a motor bike cop came up from the other way and looked at me and said’, just go mate , there is no-one behind me’, so I gingerly started the first major descent , with 30 degree drops, slippery roads, and if you came off you were looking at up to a 1500 feet drop in some parts. There was one spot where the road was one lane and either side was a huge drop.
The descent was dangerous, a guy on carbon wheels punctured in front of me and somehow saved it…
Finally we descended all the way down to canungra, but not before getting belted by hail!

A slippery left turn , turning from down to up 30 degrees and again back wheel spin, before composing before a brief reprieve before the start of major climb 2 KOM Beechmont. This one started politely at 5-10 degrees before stepping  up to 25-30 degrees before softening to 5-10 degrees, a 5 km climb.
Once reaching the ‘top’ once again looked up to see nearly 100 m of vertical to go…

More hail before rolling hills again along the top of Beechmont before a screaming descent … There further I descended the dryer the track so some speed was enjoyed on the bottom half of the 600m descent.
Was tricked again with more rolling hills in the valley before one more climb, a 15-25 degree wall over 500m with only 5km to go.

Arrived in one piece, last Fondo for the year!

Aimed for 4 hours , was a few minutes slower, but given the challenging conditions , was happy, and KOM’d the 95kg plus Beechmont climb, a bit of a surprise.

The finish was great, real festival feel, and i got a $20 massage, the best cycling one I’ve ever had!
See you on the OTP next week! And well done to the guys on the PS Fondo today !

Van  Diemen.

Some of you may have heard I did a ride in Italy last week. Here’s the report…
Strava stats http://app.strava.com/rides/24841224

I was once asked by a French lass who, having just found out I was a cyclist, asked me “Are you a lover or a fighter?” Not having a clue what she was talking about, I mumbled something about being both, just not at the same time if that’s alright with you thank you very much. It turns out she was asking me if I ride a mountain or a road bike. Mountain bikers being the fierce fighting, mud-loving, big hearted mob they are, while road riders being passionate tarmac lovers with a true fondness for the culture of the sport. Thinking about it now, maybe the lover vs fighter analogy typifies a lot about cycling in general. Are you a fighter like little Thomas Voeckler or do you ride with the souplesse of Franco Coppi? Are you a fan of the battle royales of the Tour de France or the scream with the passion of the tifosi at the Giro d’Italia? Inclining more towards the lover than fighter, the Giro has always been my grand tour of choice and the mountains in particular. Monte Zoncolan, Passo del Stelvio, Mortirolo, Passo Giau – all climbs with histories seemingly etched into the very road.

So when my wife said she wanted to go to Vienna for a conference in October, I was immediately planning how I could wrangle a ride in nearby Northen Italy. A few clicks of the mouse, some minor negotiations and a few minutes later, I was entered into a Gran Fondo in Northern Italy on our last weekend in Europe. Called the Prosecco Cycling (http://www.proseccocycling.it/en) and timed for the end of summer, this 120km ride aims fair and square at the middle-aged, pot-bellied rider who is more interested in chugging down the pasta than riding fast. Hills aplenty but nothing longer than a kilometre. To emphasise the point, they serve the local regional wine (Prosecco) at the refreshment points along the course and give you a free bottle of the stuff on entry. Now that’s what I call riding. And what better way to prepare for such a ride than to spend the week prior in Munich for Oktoberfest on a healthy diet of beer and pretzels. Can life get any better? No, I didn’t think so.

Fully carb loaded, we trundled into the local town the night before, having arranged the hire of a road bike and helmet from Venice. A little small in the frame, but hey, it had two wheels and it rolled, so what did I care? And so it was that an American called Dave (who was staying at the same accommodation) and I rocked up an hour before the gun. I had no intention of keeping up with Dave – it could have been the race-fit physique or maybe his stealth black Campag EPS spec’d Colnago or maybe his razor sharp tanlines that gave him away as a true racer, but ultimately it was the fancy Lightweight wheels Dave had on his bike. Those things were not wheels, they were weapons of mass destruction and some poor Italians were going to suffer on his wheel.

The parcour was tougher than it looked on paper. Set in vineyard hills of the Prosecco region, a local comparison would be the Hills of Death. But just 120km of it. The all too infrequent flats being split by winding corners, short + sharp ramps and fast downhills. A course for what the French call a puncheur and what turned out to be an energy-sapping leg-snapper of a ride.

A few speeches by the mayor, an appearance by an opera singer, a bit of Pavarotti and we were off in a shower of confetti. Apparently I was the only Aussie participant, but 18 riders from 18 countries managed to get to the start line.

The weather was high teens, misty and overcast, but with little chance of rain – great riding weather. The ride started with an immediate climb out of town which broke the mass wave start of 1000 participants almost immediately. Everyone was way too jumpy off the start for my liking and I wasn’t surprised to see a stack on a downhill in the first 10km. It was fast-going for the first 40km, and I knew in the back of my mind I was burning too many matches for my level of fitness, but I was hoping I could somehow hang on to a bunch as several rolled through. I yo-yo’d off the back of a few before giving up and riding at my own pace. I was riding a 53/39 with 12/26 rear and was spinning out regularly on the downhills trying to keep up.

The first real pinch at 40km came and went. With sections up to 15%, I was able to hold and even improve my position a little. Only to have the advantage withered away in the next 10km. No matter, I had to hold something in reserve for a monster called Il Muro, or The Wall, at 80km. A kilometre long with long sections of 15 to 18%, it wasn’t going to be easy. So famous in the local cycling lore, it even has it’s own website (Il MURO di Ca’ Del Poggio) and featured in the 2009 Giro d’Italia. Needless to say, after little training and no cycling in the 2 weeks prior, I was weaving up this puppy at a snail’s rate, posting letters across the road. The reward for such a climb? Prosecco and mussels at the top. And gee it tasted good. By this stage, I was cramping up something fierce and had to have a break. Fed and rested, I called the missus to let her know I was going to be a while getting home. With 35km to go, it was going to be an exercise in survival.

I cant say I remember a lot about the last 30km. With the kms ticking down slowly, I had my eyes on the scenery looking for familiar landmarks to indicate how far it was to go, convinced my Garmin was lying to me. False flats and slow rises required the granny gear all too frequently I’m ashamed to say. I was crawling. With 10km to go, the course veered onto some local Strada Biancha. Never having tackled loose gravel like this on a road bike, it was an effort to stay rubber-wide down. After a millenia, the 3km sign was in sight. The final ramp to the finish line was made all the more bizarre when two Italians on a tandem rushed me and another guy for the line. Kudos to them for doing the whole 120km.

I’d come 480th out of 600-odd riders and had lost a bucket of speed in the 2nd half of the ride for a total time of 4hrs 46mins. Not exactly warp speed, but hey I got to ride a Gran Fondo in Italy and drink Prosecco while doing it.

I capped off my Italian holiday with a ride up the local Mount Cesen behind the town, and was rewarded with a beautiful view and a sweet 25min descent through a dozen switchbacks. I can definitely recommending riding in this region of Italy if you have the chance. Photos attached.

Fore

A quick report from yesterday’s annual Bowral ride run by Sydney Cycling Club.

4.40am the first time check of the day, with six ER’s (Wilson, Stealth, NNNick, Schleck, Phantom and myself) loitering with intent at Gordon for the heart starter to Centennial Park, with Andy, Graham, Zlatko and VD boarding the rattler at Turramurra. Various forms of nightlife in various states of disrepair on our way through Oxford St made us all wonder what it was like to be 40 again…..

All arrived and accumulated in good order at Centennial Park, where the Dominator awaited, together with Chindo and new ER Michael (Phantom’s intro). “Strong as an ox” described Phantom, which proved to be a fair assessment. Welcome mate.

Choice between B1 and B2 (not Mike and Chris, but groups) made all the easier given the B2 support vehicle was more like a mini than the van that supported B1, so we flocked to the latter for the briefing. 22 in B1, a good choice. The standard SCC rolling paceline was prescribed – “roll off the front to the left etc etc” – better in theory than in practice unfort.

Our leaders were Fran and Dan. Introduced by (someone we assumed to be) Jan.  Stealth instantly won the hearts and minds of the SCC members with “don’t you just love these made up names”.

The Pinarello crowd which formed the majority of the ER group compared notes as to where they got their matching bidons from. NNNick fiddled with his Garmin sensor on the rear stay until the Trek owners club pointed out “don’t those things have a Duotrap?”.  Look it up if you’re in envy. You should be.

Out we headed towards the airport and noticed we also had our good mate Pete Kemp (from Bowrals and Gongs past) aboard, fresh climbing legs from Les Dix Alps, and equipped with backward facing camera to catch anyone workshy to present to the judiciary.  Look forward to any footage Pete unless I’m in it.

ER’s were unfortunately too late to nab our Scott from the Renegade peloton;  great to see you out there mate and consider yourself contracted to ER next year….

First stop unexpected at a servo in Sutherland to unload the bladder, then onwards to Stanwell Tops,  then into Gong proper.  Pace was OK if not a bit slower than expected, and stops a lot longer.  No complaints,  we’ll bank any excess energy for that hill up the road…..

A different route to prior years around Albion Park to the servo stop just before Macquarie Pass proper. Everyone consulted their “BT’s Pocket Guide to Nutrition before busting your…self up a hill”, and on we headed.

Into the climb proper and we each settled into our own rhythm as best we could with c140km in the legs by then for some  12km to the Pie Shop at Robertson,  although the last 3km of those are better described as “undulating”, and not Drastique’s “undulations” between Thredbo and Khancoban either.  NNNick and I found ourselves following a decent wheel up the hill – who later turned out to be a mate of mine from Uni that I hadn’t seen for 20-odd years.  He managed to pull away (annoyingly) in the last 2km before it flattened out, with Nick and I coming in together. Everyone finished strongly, not a bead of sweat to be found one some (Andy, Graham) and some wishing they’d inhaled more water before setting out (VD).

The final 30km or so into Bowral were pretty easy going for all – no-one looking particularly fatigued by the time we got to Bowral even allowing for the extra 5km we must have done to locate The Don’s home ground.

A great effort by all combatants; proud to be one of the crowd; ER strength goes from strength to strength it seems…..PR’s all over the place per Strava.

Edward (a smaller version of Stealth) present and waiting at the finish line with football in hand to offer some drop punts around the oval to loosen up any stiff legs – much appreciated and I won’t tell your Dad all that stuff you told me about his antics mate…until the ER Xmas Party.

VD played a master stoke for those of us returning by train, craftily sniffing out some recuperative “roadies” for absorption by bidon…he too mentioned something about his ride name “causing problems at home, do you think the FM’s will change it”……

Next outing the Gong Ride, and G2GGvG for those wanting an express ticket southbound and to stretch their legs on Bulli Pass on the return. Spreadsheet pending.

Thanks all,

Mark / Satnav

Ride report for the event last Saturday.  Short summary :

• 92 odd kms
• 3,300 odd meters of climbing
• 14 hills, lots of pills and no spills.

Saw this event posted on the wall at the Red Berry coffee shop a few months back and penciled it into the calendar.  As with all “epic” rides it starts as..”this looks like fun”.  Then as you get closer to the date some thinking creeps in.  Most of these climbs have a gradient in the teens and the last one I know touches 20 degrees near the top.

I’ve climbed Pico Veleta (3,400 mtrs) which is the highest climb in Europe, but the altitude gain is “only” 2,650 over 40 kms with an average of 6.5%. If you exclude the downhill sections, the flat transitional sections across Montacute, this ride climbs higher and over a “shorter” period. Alternatively the well famed Three Peaks is 4,400 meters of climbing – but over 245 kms.  Whichever way you looked at the Dirty Dozen – it is a fair challenge.

72 riders gathered at The Tower Hotel, Magill at 7am.  This was a much bigger group than expected. In “my” sub group we had Tanya, Tim, Bill and myself.  My prediction at the start would be that only 50% would finish the ride.  My concern is which half I would be in.

As with all these rides, the plan was to start riding at a conservative pace and leave as much in the tank as possible for later.  And as always the group is full of “Bon Amie” early and goes faster than the plan allows.

The first climb is pretty much in my backyard, a leg warmer up New Norton Summit then a sharp right up Teringie Drive – just shy of a kilometer long and an average of 11.5%.  Being the first, there was no doubt most would conquer this challenge.  As far as I know all did by some unfortunate guy that was riding his brand new Botacelli bike just in front on me.  He rode over a very small twig of gum leaves which managed to get caught in his drivetrain.  The rear deraiiler promptly snapped off, and his day was done.  I heard later that he also cracked his frame.  Maybe his pain was still less than what lay ahead.

The descent was well paced.  I chatted to a truck driver that was just recovering from a broken collarbone (bike related) – one of those old tough guys you see out riding in the worst weather.  The next “climb” should not have really been included.  It took us a bit out of our way and Horsnell Gully Rd a 3 km hike at a mere 6% average.

Turning off the Old Norton Summit Rd after the descent, the next climb had a sting before it even started with a tough little pinch before turning left into Coach Rd.  The bitumen in this road ends after 2.4 kms but rises at an average of close enough to 10%.  If you kept going on the dirt, you almost end up in our back paddock.  A grippy little climb towards the top, and my first chance to “post a few letters” across the road on the way up.  I heard a sound from behind that would become more familiar as the day went on – a groan of despair and a click out of cleats as the white flag of surrender was waved.  My group of 4 all travelling well though.

We descended only half way down the hill this time and took a sharp left onto Knox Rd – 1.4 kms at 9.4%.  For some reason this climb felt pretty good and the group at the top was nearly full strength.  The descent down past Penfolds was quick – hit 80+ kmph without trying.

No rest and short 500 mtr transition to the base of Kensington Rd – climb to the lookout 1.3kms at 11.5%.  One of those climbs that gets steeper towards the top.  More letters got posted on the way up.

By this stage the legs were well and truly warmed up – maybe even cooked.  I suggested a quick refuel stop for our gang of four, so we descended early from the regroup and hit the Kensi Bakery.  Fantastic fruit slice that added much needed fuel to the tank.

We picked up the tail end of the group at the base of climb # 6 – Ridgeland Drive (again off New Norton Summit rd).  Short at only 700 mtrs in length but the sharpest average of the day – 12.5%.  Can’t I remember much about this one – done and ticked off the list.

We rolled as a group (maybe down to 60 odd by now) into Norton Summit and through to Woods Hill Rd.  800 meters at 8.1% but really only a transition climb – no fears for us here. Climb #7 done.  The problem was that the climbs were getting ticked off, but we were less than half way into the ride and well less than at half way point of climbing meters.  IN racing parlance this was the softening up period.

Little Italy next on the menu and a good recovery roll down Pound Rd (soon to be climbed back the other way as #9).  First though it was up Burdetts Rd 1.7% at 7% with a few short sharp pinches.  The day and the scenery was so fantastic though that this was an “enjoyable” climb.  Temperature was now in the very high teens and no wind.
Perfect.

Quick swing down past Camelot Castle, along the valley back into Little Italy and Pound Rd starts – 2.7kms at 8%.  The group now numbering approx. 55 and the chat levels were drop inversely to gasping levels in the pack.  Gaps opening everywhere and real pain starting to show for some.  Our group still compacto.  Tanya always leading our charge, Tim chasing, me cruising and Bill battling admirably.

A nice transition ride along the ridge followed as we headed for the dreaded depths of Cherryville.  Another dead-end and not known by many riders from Adelaide Swampland, the descent needed a good two fists of brakes to keep your steed upright.  Real fear in some eyes now at the regroup.  The climb up was 2.1kms at 10.8% but with no relenting – it’s a climb “that keeps giving”.  Photos reveal as many walkers up the steep bits as riders by now.  Many riders posting letters and refusing to look more than 3 feet in front for fear of seeing what’s ahead.  Our group all made it, but Bill had hired a key to his own hurt locker and suggested his day was down.  After a brief negotiation we worked out a Plan B for him and we rolled on towards climb #11 the dreaded Corkscrew Rd with 2.5 kms at 8.9%.  This climb is notourious in SA and will feature in the TDU 2013.  Feared and avoided by many
our legs were in tune with Pink Floyd though – comfortably numb.
Finished, just two to go.

The penultimate climb was completely unknown to me.  Running off the entry to Morialta Falls, Tay Rd goes 1.2kms at 8%.  Regroup at the top showed the rider numbers now in the thirty’s.  Lucky last to come.

The transition to the last climb took a different descent was the ascent, so Tim & I had to take a small deviation to collect Bill from the bottom – he was up for the last climb, although he had never ridden it.

Last climb is Coach-House Drive.  A beast at 2.7kms and 10.1% average.  The average does not do this climb justice as a few ramps in between sections that hit 20% near the top give not enough relief.  I was in a mixed mood – relief that it looked like I would complete the challenge, and frustration that the road was so busy I couldn’t post any letters on the way up.  I passed so many cyclists slumped over bars or trying vainly to click in and roll on, when gravity was working against a standing start.  More morale to keep rolling on.

At the top an elite group of approx. 25 or so had done the job. Vertical meters on Tim’s garmin was frustratingly just shy of 3,000 meters though.  Stupidly I suggested to our group that we do just one more climb to ensure the 3,000 metre mark was hit.  We thanked Adam as tour organiser and went further up the hill to do Colonial Drive as a bonus climb.  With just the four of us left, the pace was very subdued.  No signs of cramp yet (gels had done their job) but legs were now like lead.

My Strava showed more meters climbed than Tim’s Garmin, but I’ll take mine as accurate.

I had put this ride up there as matching anything else I had achieved on the bike.  Did it deliver?  I’m not sure how much more I could have delivered, but I had a bit left.  How did it rate against 3 Peaks and Pico Veleta?  I couldn’t say it was easier, but I couldn’t say it was harder either.  Thos other rides are long epic climbs where it’s you versus “a” mountain (or three) whereas this ride was short sharp efforts of smashing yourself in the head with a baseball bat but with regrouping times and descents to aid recovery.  In summary – not easier or harder, just different.

To see the face of pain though – have a look at fellow rider Tim’s picture here:

Salutes to Tanya – now a true legend.  Finished the whole ride in very tidy style, and showed most blokes (including me) up.  Tim also looked comfortable at the end, but the most courageous award to Bill who did all but two climbs and I gather has not trained much lately and weighs at a guess 40 kgs more than Tanya!
Cheers

N BB

Day 1

Today’s ride started as all coast to coast rides. As we dipped our back wheels in the Irish sea ( I’m on a hire bike so mine got a good dip), one of my riding companions slipped on the algae and all her bike and most of her body got an unexpected dunking in the waves. This delayed our departure whilst first aid was administered to the grazes on her face and hands. She then has to start the ride wetter than any of us.

The morning ride was pretty uneventful as we followed a disused rail track to morning tea. We then started a more hilly section up to lunch and stopped at one of the may lakes which makes this part of England so pretty

After lunch I had a déjà vue moment as we got caught in a Thunderstorm and as we were riding through Keswick I had to ride over cobbles! Unlike last year I managed to stay upright and finish the ride with no broken bones!

More tomorrow when the real hills begin.

Day 2

Weather forecast was the same as yesterday with showers and thunderstorms predicted.

Its just like commuting to work in Sydney although im sure the weather is warmer over there.

Anyway we roll out of the Horse and Farrier pub after a hearty grease infused breakfast, I’m sure my personal dietician would have something to say with canned grapefruit, cherry yoghurt and bacon and eggs with fried bread!!!

Anyway with this settling into my stomach I rode the the first part of the day at the head of the pack thus avoiding mouthful of wet cow manure flicked up from the back wheel of the bike in front! After an hour or so the happy peloton was fairly strung out and after a few tactical regroup stops we made it to the support van for luke warm tea and museli bars!

We then started the real climbing of the ride and I had no problems sitting on the wheel of the ride leader for “a series of cheeky little climbs” until lunch (his words). Lunch was eaten in a bus shelter as we all decided that standing in the middle of a car park under the awning of the van in a thunderstorm was probably not the safest place to stand. Suitably re-fueled with soggy samosa with stilton and ginger cake for dessert, we set off for the climb of the day and the rain eased off a bit (its all relative when you are as wet as were). I set off last as I had foolishly left my gloves in the rain so had to ring them out before putting my hands into them as they had swelled up. I hate wet clothes!

The rain did ease off a it as we climbed up to Hartside (thanks to Simon and Ben for pulling us up the Pyrenees) I got the King of the mountain 🙂 As the stronger riders rolled into to the café for a well deserved mug of tea (it is England after all) , I when back down the hill to the back of the back and helped the 11 year old on our tour up the hill (pushing with my good arm). Zlatko and Flash will be pleased to know there were no incidents when we took it turns to push him up the hill. We weren’t the last to arrive at the top, the lady that fell into the sea yesterday morning still isn’t fully recovered and came in probably 15 minutes after me, Jamie and his dad.

Well now at the pub with a beer so that’s it for another day. Oh for those with a sadistic curiosity the saddle index is about a three (refreshing your memories from other long distance ride reports: 0 is I’ve just started and feel great, 10 is I’m looking forward to the next hill so I can stand up!)

Turnip

Now which council was it I needed to complain to …….. ?

This turned out to be one for MTB-ers – see picture – but I tried it anyway with caution.

Ride started with daffodils and native birdsong, took us to idyllic hamlets and then downhill and up.

Beautiful.

Lunchie

Recovery from the Etape, was brunch, and beer, but the purpose of TTs is to climb ridiculously large hills termed Col de something or other and drink Leffe on return to camp. Thus it was not long before the suggestion of a ‘ leg turner ‘ was put forward and YHC was heading into the valley up to the basecamp of Col D’Aubisque where thankfully a left turn was made to only climb for another 3 kms and a gentle glide back to Pau…a cruise of 30kms average, though cute villages and gorgeous farm country, the slope assisting to make this effortless. Possibly the nicest 40kms you could hope for, euphoric even…followed by a café in a the square of a chocolate box village ..Half in holiday mode dropping hints that the next ride was due to claim a few peaks…although by then there were some sms messages being bandied around to rendezvous with some contacts Drastic had made ..could we meet up with Laura and Jo…and take them for a ride.

The transfer to Bagneres de Luchon ensued and breakfast saw us gathering at a large corner café to meet up with Turnip and the ladies, Half tabling a gruelling 3 peak challenge of his own…ok folks a swift climb of the Peyresourde down the other side, along the valley to climb the Aspin then home for tea…( Leffe ) only about 3500metres of climbing… all those in favour say aye…the ayes have it..

A slow climb of the Peyresourde is about all any could manage, except Half who was finding it no trouble at all, he took the KOM and waited for us at the top, and waited, and waited…nearly 45mins, Laura and Dave gave YHC every excuse to slow down, regain a normal heart rate, and slowly grind up..the heat ( now being close to mid day and 25C ) Just as Half was mounting up to return down the hill looking for us we crested and saved him the effort. Dave had a camera project to complete, and was soon cooling off at high speed heading back to Luchon and documentary history, the peloton headed off down the “ wrong” side and towards Aspin… Tormey Tours chief executive explaining that pain was temporary but the glory of the climb was for ever…YHC reached the village at the bottom in full pike mode…TT CEO and Laura heading up the Aspin…TT CEO saying with a grin that there was café to sit at or another 1000m plus climb, I was to choose one or the other…now lets try and see how that looks on paper…how could I write the report saying I spent the afternoon waiting for TT to return…So YHC was soon leading the bunch and attacking off the front to assault Aspin..and glory…what a climb too, plenty of 8 to 10 stretches, HC , 10ks of bitumen pleasure..and the view was worth every turn of the pedal. When there is no cloud the Cols have gobsmacking vistas and some of the hairiest descents on the planet… The pain of the climb was forgotten in the first 100m of the descent as 60kph flashed up on the gps screen, long sweeping straights, only the odd hairpin, but knowing the road having crawled up at 8kph it was just like flying.. The village of  Arreau at the bottom was closed, being now 4pm and for some reason the wave of tourists passing through were being swept out of the cafes and shops to allow the locals a moments rest..no food available for the return assault of the Peyresourde, but fresh water aplenty from spring water fountains…a little shade to be found and a sandwich nearly impossible..

TTs cajoling and climb whispering meant a short rest only and thankfully the return side of the Peyresourde was an easy 7% average, which meant cresting out by 5 and into Luchon for about 5:30..the downside of a HC climb being it is fast and furious…sorry is that a downside or just the perfect end to a 3500 m day…

This story will be oft repeated and the hills will get steeper, and the views more impressive with each telling…have a good one all…BT

I must admit that this isn’t the most exciting video I’ve ever watched but you do get a feel for the race and multiple glimpses of le Phantom as he rides up hills faster than Jenny.

Phantom is wearing a white jersey, black knicks and black arm warmers. He rides past once in each clip and first appears at about the 35 second mark behind the white van.

Acte II – Pau to Bagnères de Luchon, Saturday 14th July 2012

Note that this is a very large file and may take a while to load but hopefully it will stream OK.

They say a good story starts a the begining , this one has several, where to start then ? at registration, and the first bad news of the day was Etape organisation neglected to arrange bus transport back to Pau.That would mean anyone such as us in campervans would be without a means to get back…BTs level of anxiety rose to level 10 ..quickly back to zero when Phantom volunteered Mrs Phantom to drive their campervan to Luchon and make the collect..all formalities over in a flash, then leaving the ER team at a loose end in a trade hall containing all major bike brands and time to spend spend spend. First port of call was the Rapha stall, chequebook open…noughts rolling of the end of the pen…Mrs P making more than one visit, YHC purchased a jacket, shirt, gillet, shocked at the price but gently reassured that good stuff is worth it, anxiety level back at nail biting level.

Being a hot day, Half had taken off up the Aubisque, strava entry asap..current wifi crisis, the campsite router being routed means a forray to find free wifi elsewhere.

Team ER back to campsite and training beers, along with some brie, smoked mackeral and salad, then back to town and a second sally round the trade hall..as you can never have enough Rapha gear. At 5 returnng to camp to hear how ideal conditions were en haut..a perfect day for climb, 80kph winds aloft, BTs weather eye noting indicators of a rapid change on the way, low cloud and rain on the way. Dinner then early night planned for a swift transfer to the start line.

Sauntering in to town at 7:30, arriving at a seemingly ideal restaurant seated at 8…in the corner postition outside as the inclement weather gathered overhead..temperature dropping to a chilly 16c…much time to ponder such things as the waiter ignored our table for almost an hour. first course on the table at 9:00…Steam seeping from Phantom’s ears but food was on the way…main course on the table at 10…though by then we had moved inside the now empty restaurant as sheets of rain were sweeping the street outside…the check by 11…and a 30 min walk in light rain to follow..perfect preparation for a 5 am start on one of the most gruelling EDT ever.

We got up in just enough time to arrive at the start line in good time and waited until the other 8000 gathered..it seem they knew what we did not and most showed up around 7, the depart was staged 9 groups 3 mins apart, YHC being let loose at 7:45 or so…note to self…jump the barriers like several others to advance the departure time…Phantom was in the pen before the last, YHC was lantern rouge before the show got on the road. When the balloon went up, YHC quickly joined a group and was able to maintain a 26 average to the foot of the Aubisque. Once on the climb though the speedo rarely went above 12…and on the hard bits 7. Entered cloud just above the first village of Leruns, the temp dropped to a chilly 10 to 12..then the rain started, all good though wrapped in Rapha, the climb was heating enough, at the top after having listed to multiple English competitors complaining they could have gone to Manchester for the weather. The descent was freezing, slow as wet roads, sheep sh#te fog, and loads of chilled cyclists made it impossible to go fast…YHC managed to barge through eventually and find some space to accellerate but very very chilled , nay hypothermic by the time the feed station at the bottom was reached. The “voiture balai” sweeping up a fair few of the cohort under space blankets and suffering..YHC stopping long enough to wring out the socks and swallow some gel..then heaving back into the fray towards Tourmalet..just what you need after a freezing wet soaking. Nice warm valley, and another groupetto meant the transfer was reasonably fast, my average at the bottom of Tourmalet was 20..the course starts climbing before you know it but starts for real as the GPS rolled over 100kms..at 10% for 10km..with a stretch at 12 / 13..YHC was hurting, but had a good granny gear and was churning up slowly..6 to 9 the 10k mark was punctuated by a food stop, where a convenient car park housed multiple busses..having watered and fed, I was heading up the road when the Gendarmarie waved me down…”Sorry sir for you the dream is over” you will not make the cut off …put your bike on the truck and get on the broom…

4 hrs on the bus…still not at Luchon, arrived at gone 7:30…let me just say that putting 100 sweating, soaking cyclists into a small space most of whom eat garlic for breakfast was a nasal experience not to missed. The arrivee at Luchon to hear Phantom crossed the line was at least a partial ER victory..YHC now has all of next year to prepare for the next rediculously difficult Etape du Tour…but there were tears in the beer used to toast his victory. Food and drink was then the next order of the day, andwith Half schmoozing along the restaurants do you think any would spring open their doors after 8pm…eventually we found an enterprising takeaway pizza joint and returned to the Phantoms van to sip champaign and gather energy to then drive the 200 kms back to Pau..bed by 1am…quite a day…

Many congratulations to Phantom…Chapeau.

Freeman ! Yes, wife and children packed off to the UK for 4 weeks means that I could do some proper cycling at the weekend without feeling in some other way accountable.

And so it was a crisp and early start as Dobbo and I headed off to Dungog last Saturday, hotly pursued by Zlatko and Turnip in car No. 2. As it turned out all reached the start point of the ride at the same time and here is the photo to prove it …….

The weather held fine all day but the start was pure mountain UV, just the tonic after too many lunches indoors recently. You could tell that Dobbo and I were newbies to this lark, having never ridden 100kms in a day – our backpacks full to the brim with clothing and God knows what else whilst the pro’s elected to fill their deeper jersey pockets, mostly with bananas I recall.

The route was an orange-shaped circle, chosen on Google in the wee small hours by Zlatko – he faithfully transposed it onto a 1:2.000.000 resolution hand-annotated map. The first 20km’s or so were along a sealed road with only hills and native birdsong for company.

It seemed prudent to take on water and Macedonian resourcefulness first tried a nearby garden hose (=’brownish water with mud’) before stirring an elderly lady from her wing-backed chair. Apparently Zlatko’s knock on the door sounds like a crow hitting a window. Sensing a free lunch, or drink at least, I pitched up next to Zlatko on the scrounge. I could swear she was looking at both of us at the same time but she cheerfully shared her boiled water with us. Balkan charm doing its magic I suspect !

We then steered our steeds left – a theme for the day – onto a dirt road. It was a bit hilly but the surface was dry and smooth and the 20-odd km’s soon a blur. We stopped just the once to say hi to a dingo and for me to pretend to be road-kill (you’ll need to come to the Xmas event to see the photo I am afraid !)

Just short of the pub at three quarters past orange, Zlatko lost a nipple. I thought I knew my way around the apparatus but I was not much use rumaging in the undergrowth. Eureka was the shriek as Zlatko produce a piece of stick and effected a running repair that saw us to the pub.

The Beatty Hotel welcomed us with open arms – but we avoided the boozy hug of the local lass hanging around outside smoking. The chatter stopped as we headed towards the lit hearth all eyes checking to see whether we ordered some poncie city-dwellers drinking. The jukebox and conversation started again as we hedged our bets with Tooheys  Old and New. We tucked into Steak pies out on the covered rear deck and congratulated ourselves on a fine decision to take the side trip to the pub.

The last section was uphill mostly, variously classified by Turnip as ‘unclassified’ or 1 or 1.5 or a 2 climb. At the 80km point my legs weren’t up for the debate. The local lass pursued Zlatko in a ute, facial hair bristling in the breeze as she shot past leaning nearly the whole way out of the window. After a quick stop at the Col du Movembre to take a picture, we descended at pace back to Dungog (75kmh). Turnip picked up a slow pucture 2k’s from home and there was a short race for line honours.

The sun was setting now and chili chocolate cake and tea beckoned in a cafe.

A tremendous day out and I think I can safely say a new annual event.

Here are the stats for those that understand numbers,

Safe riding

Lunchie