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| Before leaving for France I carefully copied the official route onto Michelan maps, and brought just the key areas with me. Painstaking, but when weight is an issue (and direction), it was worth the effort. |
Here I finally meet up with the Tour, after riding ahead for the first seven stages.
Enjoy!
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This was written from the lovely Aix en Provence (my pronunciation: Icks on Provanse) on the first TdF rest day of 2003. The Tour actually arrived in Marseille (Mar-say) the night before - 30km south of here - but it took almost 3 hours to find somewhere to stay last night. My sister had booked me an indoor stay at one of her chain hotels in Marseille, but I was so tired, off route and a bit lost, and was riding in complete darkness without a front bike light. My last 15km was a very cautious pedal into the town of Aix en Provence, and I stopped at the first hotel and paid whatever they wanted to charge me. I woke up refreshed and ready to explore the town, which is lucky as this place has a grand reputation, if only from the many Americans who come here each summer to learn French.
Tonight I catch a train back to Marseille before catching a TGV to Toulouse, the finish town for tomorrow's stage. It is scheduled to arrive at 11.08pm (I couldn't get a train to Narbonne, where the stage begins). I don't want to think about what I am going to do for accommodation tonight.
Yesterday was one of those days you have when you ALMOST think that a bad day on the bike doesn't beat a good day at work. 187km of hot, hot, hot headwind, unforseen delays (ie, having to wait two hours for the Tour to pass), bike problems and high/low blood glucose levels. But, no matter how much you may try to talk yourself out of it, a bad day on the bike will always beat a good day at work. Hey, I got to see the Tour pass - for the third day in a row! And then ride much of the route!
My last few days have been amazing and difficult to surmise. Initially, the main aim of the trip was to make it to Alpe d'Huez and watch the tour on the most famous of Tour climbs. But first I had to get there.
Following the Tour route as much as possible meant completing two horrendous climbs: Col du Telegraphe and Col du Galibier (Galley bee-yeah). They basically run straight on from the other, with only a tiny drop of around 200m before the Galibier climb begins. Galibier finishes 34km later on top of a very skinny and fragile ridge, some 2,650m above sea level. The start of Telegraphe (St Michael du Maurienne) sits at around 450m.
The night before was pretty restless as I thought about how much preparation I had undertaken for this trip. It seemed the two training rides up Col d'Yarragon (6km at around 4%) were largely insufficient, but there was not a lot I could do about it now.
Tonight I catch a train back to Marseille before catching a TGV to Toulouse, the finish town for tomorrow's stage. It is scheduled to arrive at 11.08pm (I couldn't get a train to Narbonne, where the stage begins). I don't want to think about what I am going to do for accommodation tonight.
Yesterday was one of those days you have when you ALMOST think that a bad day on the bike doesn't beat a good day at work. 187km of hot, hot, hot headwind, unforseen delays (ie, having to wait two hours for the Tour to pass), bike problems and high/low blood glucose levels. But, no matter how much you may try to talk yourself out of it, a bad day on the bike will always beat a good day at work. Hey, I got to see the Tour pass - for the third day in a row! And then ride much of the route!
My last few days have been amazing and difficult to surmise. Initially, the main aim of the trip was to make it to Alpe d'Huez and watch the tour on the most famous of Tour climbs. But first I had to get there.
Following the Tour route as much as possible meant completing two horrendous climbs: Col du Telegraphe and Col du Galibier (Galley bee-yeah). They basically run straight on from the other, with only a tiny drop of around 200m before the Galibier climb begins. Galibier finishes 34km later on top of a very skinny and fragile ridge, some 2,650m above sea level. The start of Telegraphe (St Michael du Maurienne) sits at around 450m.
The night before was pretty restless as I thought about how much preparation I had undertaken for this trip. It seemed the two training rides up Col d'Yarragon (6km at around 4%) were largely insufficient, but there was not a lot I could do about it now.
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| Nerves aplenty with a 34km climb to come.. |
Starting early I was able to take advantage of the morning shade and make Telegraphe up in one go without a break. But moving onto Galibier I decided there was no need to be a hero, considering that of the many other cyclists about, only two others were also fully loaded. The steep drops from the edge of the road and the dark valleys were not all that comforting either. Although the cars in France seem to always expect a cyclist, I was less convinced that the touring Caravans from Germany, Belgium, Holland, etc were the same. There wasn't a lot of room to share.
Taking it easy also meant there was a great opportunity to meet some of the cycling freaks who have driven their vans from all over Europe to catch a glimpse of the tour, and in order to get a prime viewing spot, arrive on the mountain days before you can hear a helicopter. I was surprised at the languages - hardly any French spoken - new challenges for communication. But everyone loves a mountain climbing sucker, especially a girl on her own.
At one corner which I was planning to have a 'photo stop' at (well before I had even seen the view) three older Belgian fellas were chanting me on (Allez Allez Allez!). One tried to give me a push along and ran behind me. Despite all barriers in language, they were pumped at what I was doing and decided to become my official photographer with my camera, big hugs all round while posing for the camera.
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| Photo credit: Crazy Belgians |
After a longer stop at the on-route Fromagerie, I made the final, 5km slog without stopping, pleased to have passed three fellas on route. Brief glimpse at the speedo saw fantastic figures like 5,6 or sometimes 8km/h. It was so tough. The top was full of cyclists from everywhere. It was windy but the views tremendous. An incredible high in achievement and altitude.
Given the small area available at the pass before the road dips away steadily on either side, I guess it was not surprising a tourist car hit a railing fence before leaving, knocking over a bunch of bikes, Harry included. The alarmed cries in German, French, Dutch were overshadowed by a broad Australian cry of, 'Jackarse!' to the departing vehicle. Harry picked up some scratches and the blasted speedo started to malfunction again as a result.
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| Oh so innocent until you knock my bike over.. |
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| Scary descents. Where's the safety rail? |
Arrival in Bourg d'Oisan (Burge dwa-sson) was like the arrival at the holy grail. The town that sits at the bottom of Alpe d'Huez was brimming with cyclists from everywhere. Given only one road passes through the town, cycling was the only means to get about. Early reports expected 300,000 fans to d'Huez, but on The Day reports were estimating 600,000. We were all here to worship and celebrate cycling, extremely patriotic of our homeland and fearless on our bicycles. Caravans, Cars and Gendarmarie (country police) be warned...
I finally met up with my German mates Caro and Marc who had driven over for the weekend. It was great to have company, and comforting given that I was beginning to be recognised down the street. It was unnerving to be randomly asked how my ride over Galibier was from people I have never seen before, or told, 'I saw you camping last night'. When you are on your own, it just comes across as creepy. With my lack of a clothes wardrobe and as a rare fully loaded solo female cyclist, I stood out for some reason.
I finally met up with my German mates Caro and Marc who had driven over for the weekend. It was great to have company, and comforting given that I was beginning to be recognised down the street. It was unnerving to be randomly asked how my ride over Galibier was from people I have never seen before, or told, 'I saw you camping last night'. When you are on your own, it just comes across as creepy. With my lack of a clothes wardrobe and as a rare fully loaded solo female cyclist, I stood out for some reason.
Alpe d'Huez is around 13km in length and consists of 21 switchbacks. Eager early birds had been camped on the main corners (such as the 'Dutch corner, corner 7) for about a week. The road is continually being painted with encouragement for riders, countries and messages to home. No chance to wait for the road to clear to complete your artwork, all tyres quickly became stained in paint. The gradient averages 8%, and is classified 'Hors' - beyond classification in terms of difficultly. Marc had issued a challenge to beat 1hr13.20 - his best time. I was willing to have a go, and so on the morning of The Day we departed for the top at around 10am. It was like trying to do a personal best in the middle of a fun-run. Riders of all caliber cluttered the road, alongside hikers walking up from the bottom. The route had been closed to traffic a long time ago. It was hard to get a rhythm but also fantastic to see the route lined with people who, bored from waiting, had music pumping and would randomly cheer. Between corners 8 and 7 I was suddenly nauseous and attempted to throw up, but on hearing my attempts while still pedalling a Kiwi decided to try to calm me by telling me about our recent Tri-nations defeat.
The last three corners are very steep, which makes a sprint finish near impossible. The mass of crowds forced the Gendarmarie to try to control access for official cars, and as a result forced everyone to stop. It made re-starting especially difficult on such an incline. My time: 1hr, 13min 50sec. Maybe next time.
We then had (only) a six hour wait until the Tour riders passed through. Unfortunately, we had no idea on what was happening during the race. It seems unbelievable that we could be sitting here, in the sun, in France, on route, on Alpe d'Huez, among 600,000 folk, and still oblivious to the race details. My mobile worked as a FM radio, and so we had Marc with one ear piece, and fellow German, Thomas, with another trying to understand the excited French commentators, and me holding the handset texting Australia for updates. The SMS to Aus proved most efficient, and with a team of four mobiles in Australia all frantically updating as they watched it live at home, we were able to get a pretty good rundown of what was happening. This was the first year SBS had covered any stage of the Tour live (they covered four), and it was helpful for more people than they realised!
The wait was also made exciting by the arrival of the 'Caravanne' - a stream of 250 sponsor vechicles who appear much like a Disney Parade with all their fancy powered contraptions, which took well over an hour to pass.
But of all the excitement of the day, the arrival of the riders, particularly Mayo (who won the stage) who was just flying up the route, was amazing. You just cannot believe how tough the course was, in such hot conditions, to have climbed Telegraphe, Galibier and to finish with a climb like Alpe d'Huez deserves all the respect in the world -
The last three corners are very steep, which makes a sprint finish near impossible. The mass of crowds forced the Gendarmarie to try to control access for official cars, and as a result forced everyone to stop. It made re-starting especially difficult on such an incline. My time: 1hr, 13min 50sec. Maybe next time.
We then had (only) a six hour wait until the Tour riders passed through. Unfortunately, we had no idea on what was happening during the race. It seems unbelievable that we could be sitting here, in the sun, in France, on route, on Alpe d'Huez, among 600,000 folk, and still oblivious to the race details. My mobile worked as a FM radio, and so we had Marc with one ear piece, and fellow German, Thomas, with another trying to understand the excited French commentators, and me holding the handset texting Australia for updates. The SMS to Aus proved most efficient, and with a team of four mobiles in Australia all frantically updating as they watched it live at home, we were able to get a pretty good rundown of what was happening. This was the first year SBS had covered any stage of the Tour live (they covered four), and it was helpful for more people than they realised!
The wait was also made exciting by the arrival of the 'Caravanne' - a stream of 250 sponsor vechicles who appear much like a Disney Parade with all their fancy powered contraptions, which took well over an hour to pass.
But of all the excitement of the day, the arrival of the riders, particularly Mayo (who won the stage) who was just flying up the route, was amazing. You just cannot believe how tough the course was, in such hot conditions, to have climbed Telegraphe, Galibier and to finish with a climb like Alpe d'Huez deserves all the respect in the world -
- Ummmm yep, that's what I wrote at the time. I was a believer in the miracle of cycling above physical limits. Yep, I was sucked in like everyone else, but I secretly hoped all along that Ullrich would win.
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| Oh, those helmet-less, cheating days... |
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| Jan had a crappy day and from all reports, a temperature too |
For my next few days I had planned to watch the Tour somewhere near Toulouse and stay for another night and try to catch the Individual Time Trial (where Armstrong had a very bad day) before trying to make my way into the Pyrenees and glimpse a bit of the action. The next phase of logistics were looking very challenging, and I wasn't sure how I was going to pull it off.
In my next recollection of 2003, Part 3, I get to share a rather unusual run-in with a very well known 'character' of the Tour. Who owns many pitchforks...
