Driving hundreds of miles just to ride my bike is something I’m a bit uneasy about. Not for any guilt over the havoc I’m wreaking on the environment, but just because I’d rather be riding my bike straight out of my front door. I have to drive though, because I have a guilty pleasure that cannot be fulfilled in Suffolk; I love riding hills. Big hills.

This year there’s been a lot of training and a lot of hills, from Leith Hill in the south, to Tan Hill in the north. It was all building up to a pitch at two stages of Le Tour, courtesy of the Etape du Tour sportives. So off in the car once again for the long drive to the Alps and “Acte 1” which the pros ride as Stage 11 from Albertville to the ski resort at La Toussuire.

I’ve ridden a few sportives in the UK but there’s something about the Etape that’s a bit different. Perhaps we feel some reflected glory from riding the same route as the pros, perhaps it’s the sheer numbers of riders and the enthusiastic roadside support or the simple fact that you’ve wound yourself up for the challenge, but when you cross over the start line and get into a bunch, it really feels like a race. That fantasy all stops once you hit the bottom of the first climb. The race atmosphere evaporates, the hundreds of riders around you disappear into their own little world and a weird silence descends as everyone just grinds away. The first climb of Acte 1 was the 26 km and 1500m of the Col de la Madeleine, so that meant nearly two hours of silence. Fortunately for me, my West Suffolk jersey often sparks a brief chat, usually along the lines of “no mountains in East Anglia”, though after one relatively long discussion with a Welshman, we concluded that there was nothing in Wales or Suffolk that would’ve prepared us for the Madeleine.

[Incidentally, I couldn’t tell exactly where on the real mountain the clubs “virtual Madeleine” climb started. As a rough guide, my Garmin shows the last 10.5km took me around 52 minutes which is quite a bit slower than my virtual time, but then again I didn’t have a virtual Adi Grimwood to chase up the hill!]

Cresting the Madeleine

The descents are just amazing. The quality of the road surface give you real confidence to push your speed, particularly once you’ve cleared the scary drop offs in the first few kilometres close to the summit. I gave myself a lot of margin for error on the corners though; the consequences of getting it wrong meant I played it very safe and I got passed by many riders with bigger cojones than me. That said it was still a blast and after 20km of descending my technique was improving and my bravado increasing.

There was a brief respite of flat bunch riding for a 10km stretch along the valley floor before another 2hr climb up the Col de Glandon. Like the Madeleine, the Glandon climbs at an average of 7-8% for its 20 odd kilometres, but it kicks up to 10% for the last couple of switchbacks to the summit. By this stage I’d got into the rhythm, trying to keep the legs spinning at a decent cadence to sustain the long effort. But what started as a solid 80 dropped, by sheer force of the length of the climb, to turning at 60rpm by the end. I also found I just had to drop down the sprockets and get out of the saddle every now and then to provide some variety to the effort and to, ahem, restore circulation.

Glandon Summit

From the Glandon summit there’s a short drop before a couple of clicks of uphill to crest the Croix de Fer and head down another long blast of descent. By this stage the early morning rain had all dried out and along with my newly found confidence, I was able to scare myself a bit more as I hurtled down the mountain.

And then…

On the stage profile the next climb, the Col du Mollard, was “just” 5km long and 400m high, so I had it in my head as being a mere bump along the way. And this is why I’m becoming more convinced that climbing is all in the head – I found it really tough and I’m sure it’s because I wasn’t expecting it to be. But just when I was cursing my legs or my brain, or both, something a bit magical happened. Drifting on the air, just below the summit village, I thought I heard bagpipes. As I got closer, sure enough I really could hear bagpipes. I must add here that ordinarily I’m not a fan of the caterwauling pipes, but right there amidst the beauty of the sunlit Alps, right then when I was struggling, they made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My legs had renewed bounce as I sped past the lone piper, stood at the end of his garden path playing “Road to the Isles”. You had to be there, but I tell you it was a special moment.

One more descent now, right into the valley bottom again and into Saint Jean de Maurienne. The road surface was a bit iffy in places, but by this stage I was REALLY enjoying the descending. My cojones were no bigger, so compared to the pros I was positively pedestrian, but hey, I was having fun!

Of course Stage 11 of the Tour was a summit finish, and since we were staying in the village at La Toussuire, I knew exactly what was coming next. I refilled my bottles at the last feed station, ate some salty crackers to help prevent cramp and set off up the final 17km to the finish. It was the hottest part of the day and the 90 minutes of climbing seemed to go on forever, but as the finish came closer and closer, the adrenaline/euphoria kicked in and the last 3k positively flew.

I did say I loved climbing hills – perhaps I should qualify that and say I love the feeling of getting to the top. The longer the climb the better the feeling and that last burst to the line was terrific. Job done.

Stats: You can see the Strava file at http://app.strava.com/rides/12915542 and my official results were: Total time 8 hours 53 minutes, 154 km and 16,000ft of climb. 1553^rd out of 4422 finishers with a further 1266 DNF. 540/1588 in my 40-49 age class and best of all 1318/4422 in the Grimpeur class, proving I’m a better climber than I am descender!

Of course, this is just part one of the story. I now had 5 days recovery time before tackling the next part of my trip over in the Pyrenees –Acte 2 of the Etape, stage 16 of the tour, and 200km from Pau to Bagneres de Luchon. What I didn’t know was that the creaking from my bikes bottom bracket that started on the Glandon was far more serious than I thought…

Michael Lawson July 2012