 |
| With Eric atop Col de Columbiere |
 |
| The view of Mont Blanc from the chalet |
But there is still 2,500 metres of climbing, including col de
Aravis, Col de Columbiere, Col de Terramont and Col de Cou. As we climb the
Columbiere I am told “where our wheels are now, just three weeks ago were those
of the Tour.” It was the stage excitingly won by the Colombian rider Jarlinson
Pantano, out-sprinting Poland’s Rafal Majka at the finish line.
We start with a gentle decline and I am with John again,
debating aboriginal rights and also the rise of the right-wing One Nation
party. “Jeez, are you guys discussing politics again” I hear from the rider
behind. Yep, for me, that’s all part of the attraction. On these 7 days I have learnt about the culture and politics of many nations.
As we start the ascent of Aravis, I am feeling strong. I
overtake a few riders and find myself going past Jason, whose wheel I couldn’t
hang on to yesterday. I am back in my favourite gear and actually going up a
couple of kph faster. Perhaps my legs “have arrived”, as others say here. I
begin to wonder if I can make it to the top 350 on today’s timings.
I arrive at the top 12 minutes ahead of cut-off and consider
going straight past the feed station, as others are. But I remind myself to
hydrate. I still haven’t really got the hang of drinking enough on the bike, so
my solution is to drink the best part of a litre of water at every feed
station. I know the advice is regular sips but this seems to work for me and,
as the stations are at the top of the cols, my stomach settles on the way down.
I spend a little more time out of the saddle today. I won’t
go into details but let’s just say I’m very grateful for the Compeed blister
pads recommended by the doctor.
On the Colombiere ascent I find myself with the ever friendly
Eric, a Frenchman working for P&G in Geneva. We cover Brexit, French
Presidential politics, the burkini ban (he is against), what my company (Happy
Ltd) does and the entire history of P&G, founded in 1837.
“All this talk is good, it has helped me keep up with you”,
he states modestly. I think the reverse is true but do manage to pip him to the
summit in the race of the last 200 metres.
The descent is fabulous as 10 of us head down through the
trees at 30 to 35 mph, braking for the frequent bends. At the start of the week
I would have been terrified by this pace but not now. I expect those at the
front are going a fair bit faster.
In the valley I find myself on the wheels of Anton and Jeffrey,
two French riders who talk non stop while effortlessly heading up the valley at
20mph. On a roundabout my pedal scratches the tarmac and for one scary moment I
think I’m coming off. “Stay safe, dude” I say to myself, remembering the words
of Shane, one of the other riders. I eventually drop off and am rather
disturbed to see a local French farmer head past me on an old crock of a
bicycle – until I notice the electric battery on the back.
I am alone. Well, a bit of mountain solitude is okay, I
guess. I climb along the edge of a 500 ft precipice, a stunning rocky gorge. I
am getting hooted a bit by passing cars but no way am I going near that edge,
with just a half-metre wall.
Just as I am feeling I am slipping and losing energy, along comes Francisco, my Brazilian friend from yesterday. We chat our way to the top, this is definitely my way to climb. There is now just one col to go, and it is only 174 metres of ascent, not even three Muswell Hills (my local 70m climb in North London). Touch wood, we have done the Haute Route.
The climb is over soon and we are heading down at speed. At the
bottom, with a few km left to go, Francisco gestures to me to get on his wheel. He clearly has something left and heads off at an amazing speed, getting us to the finish (a slight
descent, but not much) again at around 30mph.
We have completed the “highest and toughest cycling sportive
in the world”. The timed section is over. We have cycled 500 miles, climbed 21
Tour de France cols and ascended 22,000 metres. And I feel great. My legs definitely
arrived today. I’d almost like to continue tomorrow! (Except I now find I can
hardly sit down….) What seemed totally crazy when we signed up 10 months ago, indeed
when I was sat by the roadside on Sunday afternoon: somehow I’ve done it.
 |
| Crossing the finish line |
I am surprised to find I arrived 1 hour 50 minutes ahead of
cut-off and am listed at no 341 out of 413, my best performance of the week.
We head off for lunch and ice cream in the charming walled
village of Yvoire and then the whole group of more than four hundred riders
head in one single convoy on the 25 km along the lake to Geneva, crossing into
Switzerland as we go.
Wow. Just wow. A fabulous experience
Posts
5 comments:
Henry, a magnificent achievement. I have been absorbed by your blog and almost feel your pain (but not the blisters!). I doubt I will be able to hold your wheel once we are on the road together again. Well done old son. Alan
Well done
We have enjoyed reading your diary
Lesley and Dave
Congratulations Henry! Hope you ll keep blogging! Inspirational achievement and very pleased you finished in one piece and good health
Well done Henry.
I'm so impressed by your achievement and have really enjoyed your blog.
I'll try talking my way to the top when we get to some hills on our (mild) French ride.
Mazel tov! A very high achievement indeed. You're doing all the exercise for the rest of us - thanks! Hope blisters are healing. Love Marion
Post a Comment