Sunday, August 03, 2003

Tour de France 2003 Part 3 - Convoi Exceptionnel (Annecy)

July 10, 2003. Convoi Exceptionnel (Annecy)

Bon Karma pour Emily P

Hi All,

Somewhat disjointed update due to a continuation of an update begun in Lyon:

After travelling around 930km over the past six days, it was time for a bit of a rest day for Harry (my velo) and I in Lyon (pronounced Lee- yonne in case you were wondering). Lyon is the gateway to the Alpes, of similar statue to Yarragon, gateway to the Latrobe Valley. 
The most unfortunate thing of all the past few days was that I had been missing what was happening with the Tour, apart from receiving updates from my brother back in Australia and from reading the local news paper the following day (and I use the term 'reading' very loosely).

Despite this, the last few days have seen the temperature soar out on the road as I travelled from St Dizier to Troyes, and then south onto a tiny village called Anton where I camped in the backyard of a B&B before continuing onto Nevers (pronounced Nev-yair). Nevers has had a busy week, it hosted the France Grand Prix the Sunday (6th) I arrived, as well as a world Triathlon championship of some sort, and of course with it about to host the arrival and departure of the Tour this Thursday (10th).
Villages well prepared for the upcoming Tour
Camping at Decize..and a spot of laundry
Of course arriving on a fully-loaded-and-very-hot-and-tired bicycle into a city full of drunken rev-heads was not looking rosy for an evening camped out beside the road, and after some absolute fully- loaded-with-burbon-or-whatever-drunken-Italians-at-GPs-drink wanka tried to run over my legs as I sat sprawled out at a petrol station guzzling another couple of litres of water, I thought it best I move on. Got another century in (100 miles, or 160km) and landed at the campground in Decize. This left me with the possibility of making it to Lyon in one day - around 200km.

It would always be a long haul, but you notice that the haul gets larger (and longer) with a few variables thrown in:

  • no breakfast (campground only, no food) 
  • hot-o heat 
  • headwind 
  • dead bitumen (the type of road that slugs all your effort onto getting over those chunky bits of stone that lay clumsily amongst the bitumen) 
  • a very dirty Harry (what IS the French word for WD40??) 
Afternoon tea stop - around 80km to go.
But when broken into smaller, bite size pieces, 200km-odd days become a possibility. Getting the target under 100km is the key for mental sanity, although I didn't actually believe I would make it myself until about 6.15pm, when stopped for a pic and met some locals who said it was only 72km to Lyon. 

'Only' 72km to go!
A grand 40km section was basically all downhill, along the Beaujoulie valley which I shared with many a log truck and with the enjoyment of waving to the bewildered old coots perched outside their local Bars for an evening biere.

I also had my first bit of decent cycling company - a guy out on an evening training ride, who took me the 'back way' into Lyon, which included a couple of 5km hills. I arrived at the river Soane at around 10pm where it was just getting dark, with the speedo at around 205km. Exhaustion had well set in, but all I needed to do was find the hostel. It was somewhere in old Lyon, according to the LP map.

In short, the LP map was shithouse, and suddenly I am on cobbled roads (try that fully loaded) and looking at a ridiculously steep climb - way too steep for Harry and me at this hour. Off comes the riding shoes, and I push Harry up the street, turn the corner to find the street gets steeper, and continue onwards, disenchanted.
The street - although you need to picture this in darkness
Expecting to find an intersection of the street with the hostel on it, I was devastated to find at the top of this very long and steep street - 200+ steps leading into the abysss of old Lyon!
The stairway to heaven
It may be the old part of Lyon, and it may be where people find it easier to use Furniculars to get around, but one thing is for sure: the accoustics in this part of the city are a treat. I sat at the bottom of the steps, too exhausted to think of anything else, and just howled. People up the alley peered out windows, doors closed, cats ran off. And I howled more. It kindof felt good, although it didn't actually assist in the predicament.

I considered setting up my tent right there and then, but a local walked past, and was able to confirm that the hostel was at the top of the stairs. I pulled myself together, ate the remaining chocolate I had on me, and still in my socks, began the haul up those f'n steps. The local returned, and like a true host was happy to help out and take the back half of Harry. I am not sure he realised just how heavy Harry was, but there was no way I was letting him leave until I got to the top.

Checked into the hostel at 11pm, and was so happy to find people to speak English with - for the first time in a week. So happy that, I got a second (or fourteenth) wind and ended up staying up til 4am to do washing and chat to some cute French Canadian fellas. Phwoarrr..

*************

Am now in Annecy, having completed my second Col/cote of the Alpes this morning - Les Cotes, which is part of le Tour Stage 7 - Lyon to Morzine. Have now diverted off route to Annecy, which is 50km from Albertville where I will rejoin the route, on part of the Stage 8 course.

Yesterday I completed Col de Portes ('the Gateway hill') which nearly killed me - and it was only a cat 2. About 15km of climbing but I did it in the hottest part of the day, which was probably the major killer. This morning's climb was steeper, but shorter, only 6km or so. Not sure of the cat for that one. It should be fairly flat to Alberville, and then flat again with some slow climbing to St Jean de Maurienne. And then, tomorrow I will tackle Col du Telegraphe (Cat 2) and Col du Galibier (Beyond cat classification, ie, too bloody steep!) before meeting up with Caro and Marc at the base of Alpe d'Huez.

***********

Tips for persons considering cycle touring in France:

*The use of the hand to spell out a large 'A' removes any doubt about whether or not you want to stay at a place using your tent (tont), or if you want to sleep with their Aunt (tante)

*Likewise, if you use your hands to motion a kangaroo-style jumping (by either the question-asker or the responder), confirmation is usually forthcoming that both parties understand that I am from Australia and not Austria

*When asked what my job is, it is best to leave off the 'urbaniste' bit (of the econom-urbaniste). I can't even explain what I do in English, and when the French ask what the hell a town planner/economics analyst
is/does, then it just gets too damn hard

*Ensure you have a good explanation of why you cannot speak French even though you have a French name and Irish surname. When it comes to names, Australia doesn't cut it as a nationality and suddenly I am Irish.

************

And finally, one for the road:

Yesterday after climbing Col de Portes I was cruising over the top part before the terrible descent (sharp sharp turns with no warning, patchy bitumen) when I came across a Frenchman by the side of the road relieving himself. This is quite a common sight I have found, but this fella turned around to me, so as usual for everyone I come across on the way, I said 'Bonjour' but with a bit of a smile, funny predicament to be in - bet he wasn't expecting me! He didn't respond until later, and I think as I cruised further down the road, he yelled out, 'Cest bon?' Before I knew it, a car was next to me, the passenger window down, and this same fella was hurling abuse at me, pointing to his crutch and then pointing back at me. Huh? What? I don't understand. Garage? Oh, visage! No, no, no visage, merci...

He drives off, still cursing. I continue on, enjoying the high- altitude wheat fields that appear wherever the land becomes flat enough to cultivate. Elsewhere, its all French forest, a fairly boring type of bush which is very green and stands out amongst the wheat and other land uses. Suddenly I find the same guy around the corner, out of the car with his back to me, motioning like he is 'relieving' himself this time. Still confused, I call him a few names and ride on. Again he passes me with hands and motions. Fed up, I give him the finger.

Lesson learnt, I guess..

My brother is coordinating my SMS updates onto my special website, which can now be found if you type in directly: http://moniquehanley.com which auto redirects to the vicnet page. It looks pretty cool, and saves me adding up total kms (around about 1,100km so far in 7.5 days of riding)

Love to all for now

Monas

PS: the french word for WD40 is actually WD40. I found some in Lyon, and Harry was very happy to see it.

Thanks for the messages from everyone and updates from home.


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