L’Etape du Tour 2014. Aka Stage 18 of Le Tour de France.
I wonder what it is that inspires a complete stranger to stand by the side of the road, sometimes in poor weather, and shout encouragement to a stranger on a bicycle. And I don’t mean a glazed vague glance into the distance. I mean a genuine look into the eyes and a fervent “chapeau!” and “courage!” with a real sense of understanding as to what you have been enduring.
What I had been enduring began back in the town of Pau, some 135km and 7 hours earlier.
The trusty steed ready and waiting
Nearly 10,000 riders in their starting ‘pens’ watched by clouds of foreboding
According to the organisation there were 9,876 starters, 421 of whom were in the 60 – 64 aged ‘supercrustie’ classement like me. We were arranged into pens and let loose in waves of about a thousand riders at approximately 12 minutes intervals. Chaos? You bet. I’ve learned from experience that it’s best to drift to the rear of the field ASAP to avoid the crazy dash out of town. Besides, with a severely interrupted training schedule due to surgery, crashes and other health issues, the plan was to ride this ‘piano’ and effectively as a training ride. With foreboding weather forecast and ominous clouds on the horizon I figured there were going to be more challenges ahead beyond one’s own form.
Countdown at the start gate
The first 70kms were a gradual continuous gentle climb spotted with a few ‘bumps’ including two 3rd category climbs, both with fairly tasty gradients. So far the weather gods had been smiling upon us – or at least I was smiling as the conditions were dry and comfortable. The power meter helped me gauge effort versus heart rate but I was not thrilled by the ‘sensations’ either in the legs or body generally. Not panic stations yet but with another 80km to go including the bulk of the climbing it was a little worrying.
As we rolled through Saint-Marie-de-Campan the sky darkened and it began to drizzle. The temperature also started to drop from the 16C that had been holding since the start. Time to don the fantastic Gortex rain jacket that I had invested in the year before. I was about to test the theory that there is no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing. Seeing the forecast the night before I had already decided to wear the waterproof shoe covers and carry long fingered ASSOS waterproof gloves. Ah! The man’s a genius!
By the time I’d reached the summit of the Tourmalet the temperature had dropped to 5 degrees and the rain was coming down solidly, well let’s call it, torrentially! The poor sensations in the legs had continued all the way to La Mongie. But at that point something miraculous happened and I started to feel strong. I’d been carefully managing food intake and had decided to hit the caffeine gel at the base of Le Tourmalet. The final 6km to the summit was almost a joy despite the wet and cold – out there… out there where I was looking but not feeling. I was dry and quite warm in my cozy bubble.
The tide of riders who had continuously overtaken me suddenly became suffering riders in ‘inappropriate clothing’ and they were now drifting back behind me. It was a happy place to be and it was then that I considered that maybe this was enough for a training ride. I would push on to the summit and spend my energy reserves with just a long descent to Argeles-Gazost and the warm dry car waiting for me. Forget the Hautacam. This is enough.
The glow of feeling good about this plan in mind I powered on and over the summit where everything suddenly changed. What on earth were all those people doing standing around in 5 degrees and pouring rain 2,100m above sea level cheering, chanting and congratulating all these crazy amateurs trying to emulate their Tour de France idols. Experiencing this distraction did not, luckily, cause me to forget a thought I’d had on the ascent. “Let down your tyre pressure.” I stopped and hissed out about 20psi from front and rear and started the descent. But there was definitely a sense that a bubble had burst.
It took about 1km to realise that this was going to be absolutely horrendous. It was that thing I’ve experienced before where you apply the brakes yet you seem to go faster! As the rims clear and heat up braking starts to kick in. However it never gets to the point where, if you had to brake in an emergency situation, the brakes would actually pull you up. The only way down was to glide past the hazards of petrified riders grinding their blocks and rims to paste and try to control entry speed into the corners.
As the road opened up I allowed the speed to increase. This enabled a few moments to shake out my frozen hands, aching from all the braking, before grasping the levers again and pulling the speed back into control. This process continued for almost 40 minutes as I descended the 30km into the valley below. My maximum speed on that descent was about 45kph, a little over ½ my normal descending speeds when in good conditions. The physical demands of braking combined with the frozen, shaking body reinforced my earlier decision to call it quits before the start of the final climb, the Hautacam. I was now completely comfortable with that decision.
Then something miraculous happened (again! Perhaps we were too close to Lourdes for our own good!). As the road opened out into the valley the rain cleared, the temperature increased and the frozen body thawed. By the time I arrived at Argeles-Gazost I was actually warm, comfortable and finding that power that I had experienced earlier. I was enjoying these sensations and even driving a number of ‘trains’ and jumping on to the quicker grupettos as they came past me.
However the thing that really changed my mind about continuing was that incredible scene of hundreds of complete strangers genuinely urging on, not just every rider, but each individual rider through eye contact and personal comment. Check out the official youtube ‘ambience’ video to get a sense of it.
So, the sun is out and it’s 16 degrees again, the legs have come good, people are cheering and it’s a small climb of 11km. What could go wrong? Well… Turns out it’s over 13km, the gradient signs are all wrong – 8% contained significant ramps of 15%, the sun disappeared and it started to rain again. By the time I’d reached the summit all I wanted to do was turn around and get back down. There was no sense of celebration. The descent was another nightmare made worse this time by the narrowness of the road. There’s only one way up so we only had half the road for descending, so even more braking. The neck and shoulders ached, the hands froze and the rims were subjected to more grinding paste.
The good news is: I made it! The medal this year is a nice one too. Surprisingly this Etape is not the hardest or worst (weather wise) I’ve ever done – when I was younger 😉 It’s nice to have that sense of achievement and to not have quit early. And I can thank those incredible supporters for that. To me it is that experience that creates a real sense of L’Etape being a true stage of the Tour de France.
