Tour de France 2004 - Part 4 Allez Allez Allez! Blistered Bits and Bike Bags

July 16, 2003. Allez Allez Allez! Blistered Bits and Bike Bags

Hi Everyone,

Here we are in the lovely Aix en Provence (Icks on Provanse) on the TdF rest day. The Tour actually arrived in Marseille (Mar-say) last night which is 30km south of here, but it took almost 3 hours to find somewhere to stay last night, including 15km of riding in complete darkness (not even a travelling christian rock band to aid in lighting devices!). This place has a grand reputation, if only from the many Americans who come here each summer to learn French.Tonight I am catching a train back to Marseille before catching a TGV to Toulouse, arriving at 11.08pm. I couldn't get a train to Narbonne, unfortunately. I don't want to think about what I am going to do for accommodation tonight. Tomorrow I hope to get up early and ride 60km back towards Narbonne to sit atop the Cat 3 climb.

It has taken me almost 45minutes to go through emails messages, which have all been fantastic. They almost make me feel invincible again. And yes, I am soo feeling the love from the west. God bless BC. And my arse.

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, 2 hours for the Tour to pass), bike probs and high/low BSLs. But Kirk's mantra prevails, a bad day on the bike will always beat a good day at work (Apologies to EE). Afterall, I got to see the Tour and call out to Stewie and Baden (they stand out like nothing else, but the others are tougher to spot in the peleton)

Looking back, the last few days have been amazing and difficult to surmise. Initially, the main aim of this trip was to make it to Alpe d'Huez and watch the tour on the most famous of Tour climbs. But first you have 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 not alot I could do about it now. 

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 conforting 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 Belgian fellas were chanting me on (Allez Allez Allez!), one trying to give me a push along and running behind. 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.

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. Incredibly 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 knocked over a railing fence before leaving, knocking over a bunch of bikes, Harry included. The alarmed cries in German, French, Dutch were outshadowed 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. 

Col du Galibie..aye jackarse!

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, unnerving when it is by people I have never seen before. I stand out for some reason.

We were also joined by another three German mates of C&Ms, which meant suddenly I was again subject to surmised translations in a German-speaking group. Still, I was happy to have company. 

Alpe d'Huez is around 13km in length and consists of 21 switchbacks. 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, hence all tyres now 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 calibre 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 rythym, 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 keen for a hurl, but on hearing my attempts while still mounted a Kiwi decided to try to calm me by telling me about our recent Tri-nations defeat. The proportion of Aussies was not high, but still significant. Given the lack of meeting fellow ex-pats so far, I was loving every flag I came across.

The last three corners are very steep, which makes a sprint finish near impossible. Oh, and the Gendarmarie who clogged up the road, forcing everyone to stop - timely to try to get going again on such an incline. My time: 1hr, 13min 50sec. Maybe next time.

Waiting on Alpe d'Huez

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 unbelieveable that we could be sitting here, in the sun, in France, on route, on Alpe d'Huez, amongst 600,000 folk, and still oblivious to the race details. My mobile also works 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 Oz proved most efficient, and with a team of four mobiles in Australia all frantically updating as they watched it live at home, gave us a pretty good rundown of what was happening.

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, except you can score some pretty cool stuff they throw at you. Its almost worth getting to the side of the road just to see this spectacle. They take well over an hour to pass.

But of all the excitement of the day, the arrival of the riders, particularly Mayo 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* (*n.b. I wrote this in 2003, I had no idea what was going on!).

?, Beloki, Basso and Armstrong

Mick Rogers with pace making duties completed for the day

The next couple of days are loosely planned for arrival in Toulouse, stay for a night or two (individual time trial is not far from Toulouse, and then they leave from T the following day), catch up with Sue Trease and her hubby, maybe run into the cute Yank who I rode with the other day and try to get another glimpse of McGee's arse. Thats the sort of stuff that keeps the kms just clicking by. I would prefer it though if his arse was in yellow again - that was a great picture to be sitting on the wheel of. Ahh, the stuff you think of when you're riding solo..

Apologies for the lengthy description of the weekend, but it was a biggie.

Lili, will email soon
Timmy, no the email just comes to me
Thanks again to everyone else. Really appreciated words.

Love to all

Monique

sheesus, didn't even talk about my subject heading. Well, you can gather where the blisters are I guess.. 

Next parts:

Part 5 - Sleeping with the Devil
Part 6 - A Final Check

Back to TdF 2003 page