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Vélos Différents Blog
Posted: Jul 31 2009 in Travel
July 31 VTT Randonnee Fun
This blog has admittedly mostly covered road riding experiences while here in
Many of those experiences happened when we attended a style of event that is rare in
“Randonnee” means literally “excursion” in French, so can refer to any hike, road or mountain bike ride, even to a car trip. It is commonly used in the cycling community to refer to a particular type of riding event. When paired with “VTT – velo tout terrain, or “mountain bike” it is almost certainly a recipe for fun. A VTT Randonnee is typically put on by a riding club or group of riders in an area. They can most easily be thought of in North American terms as either a very structured and supported group ride for all levels, or perhaps as a race without the racing.
In our experience (we went to 3) they take on a fairly standard format:
- arrive for sign up and to start riding between 7:30 and 10 am.
- Pay a nominal fee (covering insurance and some costs), kids are usually cheap or free.
- Choose from 3 or 4 courses of increasing length and difficulty – ranging from 10-12 km “family” courses to 40km or more “advanced” routes.
- Saddle up and hit the trails – as fast or slow as you want, but sharing and friendly with dozens or even hundreds of others of all levels
- Routes are very well marked with flagging etc at a similar level to many races.
- Most events have at least one refreshment station and sometimes two. Expect a wide range of fruit, cakes, drinks, chocolate, wine! and more
- At the finish there is usually a social event with a BBQ or similar food as well as more wine and refreshments, all included in your 5-10 Euro entry fee
We can’t say enough good about these events! They capture so much of what is great about cycling in a welcoming and non-competitive environment. Kids and beginners are encouraged and we saw every type of bike from the best boutique rig to the oldest clunker. The trail choices are broad. Clubs are running the event just to show off their local trails and to have fun, not to make money. Often there are items like free T-shirts, lots of prizes (especially for the kids) and generally a happy casual atmosphere.
We were able to discover some great trails that would be hard to find otherwise, and if we wanted to we could have attended one of these almost every weekend from April onwards within a 50km or less radius of where we lived. And we found out about them just by seeing postings on lampposts, in popular riding areas and in shops. What a great way to experience the sport, see new areas and meet new riders. This is one cycling export that we hope we can see make it to
Contact us or comment here if you want to help show off your trails in a Randonnee event. Maybe we can help!
July 19 Experiencing a Tour Stage - July 11 2009
Finding ourselves in
This year, the Tourmalet was part of a stage where it was unfortunately unlikely to be a key factor in the outcome – although tough and following the
First, some background on the Tourmalet. It was one of the first major climbs included in the Tour when it first came to the
The Tour experience.
Our goal was to live what it was like to be one of the thousands of people lining the roads on the Tour. And the day in the
I started our experience with my ride up the tour route on the day before the race. The lower parts of the climb were still quiet, only the occasional camper, banner and some freshly painted cheering on the pavement. But the last 10km of the course was already becoming crowded with tents, cars, camping cars and people. The final few km above the ski station of La Mongie to the crest of the col were simply packed. It was like a 4 km long, switchbacked town – every flattish space within about 300m of the road was occupied by camping tents and vehicles. It was mid morning, so the atmosphere was relaxed, but there were thousands of people around – sitting, standing, setting up flags, playing cards. Just waiting. Some 30 hours before the race, on a major climb yes, but one that was unlikely to be decisive in the stage or tour. Wow.
My pre-ride experience told us that we would need to get an early start on race day to give ourselves time to get partway up the mountain, find a place to squeeze the car and then hike to the roadside somewhere. A local told us that the road up the mountain would be closed by the gendarmes approximately 2 hours before the race caravan was due through. We arrived at the climb some 3 hours before that deadline to find the road already closed! So much for local knowledge… so we quickly crammed the car into a lot already plugged with RV’s and other cars in the small
Another thing that strikes you while waiting for the race is the constant flow of official and sponsor vehicles. Police on motorcycles, endless Tour de France logoed cars and vans, occasional sponsor vehicles selling newspapers or giving out promo items, service trucks and more. Hours before the race, constantly up the road, through the masses of people. The sheer infrastructure of this rolling show is impressive and almost surprising that it all works. Then, about an hour before the racers are due, the show that most of the kids are waiting for begins to arrive. The “caravane publicitaire”, consisting of delegations of vehicles from all the major sponsors of the race flows by like a speedy, noisy parade. Vehicles of all sizes, blaring music or sponsor announcements, tossing promo items like hats, jerseys, free soap, magazines, and more into the waving crowds. Performers and staff strapped into their spots on the float-like vehicles, as this parade covers the whole 3000 plus km distance of the tour, at average speeds of around 50km/h! There were some 200 vehicles in a 25 km long parade that took some 30 minutes to pass by. Rolling beer cases, mini’s made up to look like giant tires, huge helmets, there was no end to it! The kids loved it and sported their free cycling hats and other chintzy items for the rest of the day. Then the flow of official vehicles seemed to intensify, now with the occasional team car mixed in scouting the route. Still an hour to go before the first riders would appear but the excitement was clearly building!
The first sign of the approaching riders was the helicopters. At first distant, their sound became clearer as they entered the base of the valley. At one point I counted 7 in the sky, 5 up high and 2 down close to the road. The progress of the lead group and the chasing peloton was easy to see way down the valley, by watching the two helicopters pacing each group at treetop level, often below the level of the mountainside road. The pitch of the crowds lining the road (remember we were some 9km from the summit) was now intensifying. We lined the road on either side as the big show approached, waiting for our shot. The lead group came upon us, surprisingly quickly given the 9+% grade. They were working hard, it was obvious. They seemed smaller somehow that when seen on TV, and yet also bigger as they laboured by less than 3 feet away! Only 2 minutes later, the main group appeared, all the big names at the front, grimly set faces, the chase on in earnest. Just a few seconds to look, to snap a photo or two, cheer and yell and then they were gone. No dramatic attacks were happening (or ever happened as it turned out) on the climb. But everyone who had been there for days or hours at least seemed happy, satisfied, and excited by these moments of proximity to the world’s biggest sporting event.
The next 20 minutes or so were occupied by an incredible number of more cars (team cars, official cars, motorbikes etc), a few batches of the slower groups including the “gruppetto” (slower sprinters and other riders just helping each other over the mountain) and eventually the lonely “lanterne rouge” or last rider in the race, who was followed by the “Voiture Balai” (broom wagon) and another big batch of service vehicles. One thing is clear – the vehicle to rider ratio in the tour is about 10:1 in favour of the vehicles!
Then, the reverse exodus began. Even as we could still see the helicopters indicating the lead groups crawling toward the summit, the fans from lower down were heading back down the mountain. It was chaotic. Those hundreds and hundreds of cyclists were whistling downhill now on a narrow mountain road through crowds of walkers, a mix of cars and RV’s, and even the occasional slightly insane driver trying, salmon-like, to ascend the mountain against this stream. After an hour of walking, we caught up with the vehicular traffic jam that was forming at the bottom, and passed a lot of it at walking speed. But through it all, I never once saw a temper lost or even angry words. Not only had people spent hours or even days getting up the mountain to see a race go by in the matter of a few minutes, and were now spending hours leaving, but no one seemed to be anything but happy. Remarkable this in a country where emotions are not typically held in check and rules of the road are generally considered only approximate guidelines. Hard to understand but somehow all explained by the reverence held in
Going to see a stage of the Tour is a special opportunity. When I do it again, I have learned some lessons – ride, don’t drive or walk. Bring a book for the wait. Maybe bring a radio so you can tell what is happening before the race arrives. Or not, it may distract you from the book. Maybe bring some big crazy wig or silly hat to fit in better. But most of all, relax and enjoy the show, as well as the race when it briefly arrives. Sitting on the side of a famous climb in the Tour is definitely not the best way to see how the stage plays out. But it is the best way to experience the scope and scale of the Grand Boucle.
July 9 Andy tries La Marmotte 2009
Our six months in
I had been to the southern Alps once before for my first taste of European road riding, and I was hooked. The mountains, villages and scenery are incredible in themselves, and best of all they are woven with a network of truly spectacular roads that mix little traffic with challenging climbs, hair-raising descents and incredible views. There are plenty of other activity choices here too – mountain biking is hugely popular with many epic XC choices as well as tons of lift accessed freeride and downhill at almost every ski station. In addition, the hiking choices are endless, along with rafting, climbing and many other mountain sports. It is an outdoor playground in both winter and summer. We based our stay in Bourg D’Oisans as that was the start location of the race I was planning to do, but it is also very central to much of what the southern Alps have to offer. Set in a lush river valley, the ski stations of Alpe D’Huez and Deux Alpes are nearby, there is plenty of accommodation both in Bourg and surrounding villages, activities are plentiful and it is easily accessible from the south, west and east. Our friends at “King of the Mountains” were already booked this year when we planned our trip, but we highly recommend their lovely location and excellent personal attention to your cycling fun if you plan a trip to this area.
We arrived on a Tuesday, with the planned race event coming up the next Saturday. Lots of lead time to get out and explore as well as a little rest on the day before. I took a spin up the Alpe d’Huez on Wednesday to remind myself of the climb as this is where the race ends. It was busy as always with riders but regardless of the rider and car traffic it is a challenging and beautiful climb and a very fun descent - even dodging climbing riders and cars on the 21 switchbacks! At a strong and steady pace, it was a 55 minute climb for me – sadly that was not a precursor to how it would feel during the race! We then headed out for the first of a few excellent family hikes, up to a beautiful mountain lake that that was refreshing in the 30plus degree heat. Mo made her assault on the Alpe on the Friday morning and had a great ride to the top among the last minute trainers and cycling tourists. We then spent the afternoon doing a drive around the “Marmotte” course so the family could see what I was getting myself into – it was an incredibly scenic drive over some very famous roads that left me excited but a little nervous. All of this time in the days before the race, the town of Bourg was absolutely overrun with cyclists. The place is always busy with riders given the many attractions, but this week was truly remarkable. You simply could not be on any road around the area without seeing group after group out riding. Every café and restaurant was full all the time, bikes leaned everywhere. Accents and languages from around
What is La Marmotte? It is a “cyclosportif” or amateur road race, named for the indigenous groundhog-like creature that lives in this part of the
The popularity has grown mostly due to the truly epic and classic route that the race offers over several Tour climbs. Starting in Bourg d’Oisans, the race proceeds up some 1300 m over the Col du Glandon, back down the Glandon other side, transits across to the 1000m climb of Col de Telegraphe, which precedes the mighty 1500m Col du Galibier. From the peak at over 2600 m elevation, the race descends Galibier, then the Col de Lauteret in a 45 km run back to Bourg D’Oisans where the final challenge is the daunting 1150m Alpe D’Huez. Total distance is 174km, with some 5000m of climbing in store. People from all over the world want to come and challenge themselves with this very tough and beautiful ride – and I was to be one of them! I had ridden most of this route in 2006, fully supported by the “King of the Mountain” folks and at a steady but still enjoyable pace. We had not included the final climb of the Alpe and had certainly not been riding at “race pace”. Another part of the challenge is to feel a little of what a Tour rider feels in a difficult stage – lots of climbs and a significant distance with a “mountain-top” finish.
The race experience.
I’ve done lots of mountain bike races, mostly of the long distance, endurance type, so in some ways was not too worried about a long day in the saddle with lots of climbing. But other than a few “Tuesday Nighter” criteriums and a “Spring Series” training race in
In order to get 7500 riders safely out of the small streets of a little
Out on the road, which was closed to traffic for the first 10 km or so, the pace was immediately fast and I of course immediately forgot my self instruction for pacing and got caught up in the fun! A couple of hard efforts got me quickly up into the lead bunch of 50 or so riders in our big group and I tried to soak it all in – flying along the flats at nearly 50km/h, fanning through roundabouts in two streams like those helicopter shots from the Tour, lead motorbikes just 30 metres or so ahead of us up the road. This was incredible! The adrenaline kept pumping as we hit the initial slopes of the Glandon, and I found myself now in a small front group of just 5 or so, following the lead motos. We were now passing big parts of the field of the start group that went out 25 minutes before us and flying up the hill. Some glances at my HR monitor told me that I was clearly going too hard for 40 minutes into a 7 hour day, but jeez I was having so much fun and it felt good…. We crested the Glandon at about an hour and 30, grabbed a fresh bottle of water and hit the first big descent. A word here about me and road bike descending – nervous! My first time in the
We hit the valley floor and were faced with a 35km or so transition across to the foot of the Telegraphe and Galibier. It was flattish, but generally uphill. It was hot, around 30 degrees and mostly on busy roads with uninspiring industrial views of a main transportation and industrial corridor. But I was still high on the adrenaline of the last couple of hours so attacked this section too, found a fast group to get in and we started hammering along the valley. Here were the first dark clouds on my otherwise sunny race: 1) I am not a “roleur” or super strong guy who can make time on the flats. Climbing is OK for me, but pushing wind is not a forte and wears me out fast. So I should have known better. 2) the “individual” nature of this race was becoming clear. Although there were about 10-15 guys in the group with me, it soon became obvious that I and one other generous-hearted Italian were the only ones willing to work at the front. This surprised me a bit, but I was feeling good, once again did not heed my HR monitor’s clear signals about effort expended and decided to be the good Canadian and do more than my share of the work. Clearly the others were smarter than me. We made good time to the base of the Telegraphe, where things get interesting again. The Col de Telegraphe is an under-appreciated climb, often grouped into the overall Galibier experience as you must ascend it first to get to the “classic” Galibier ascent. They are separate climbs as there is a small 4km descent between them. The Telegraphe is about 12 km long and 1000m up with a tough grade averaging near 8%, warming you up for the 15 km up Galibier to a height of over 2600m elevation. Anyway, you may have guessed it – the messages that my HR monitor and good sense had been trying to give me while I ignored them, were now delivered emphatically by my legs in a way I could no longer ignore. Halfway up the Telegraphe, I was in “a spot of bother”. I knew (too late) what was happening and I knew there was not much I could now do about it. My pace slowed and it went from joy and excitement of racing to pure suffering to maintain even the slower pace. It took me about 2 more hours to finally crest Galibier, around 30 minutes slower than it should have. And it hurt! A brief moment of respite where I met the King of the Mountains team who were providing bottles and food near the summit and then I had to keep grinding on. My hopes of a 7 hour finish time were gone, now I just had to figure out how to get finished! From the top of Galibier, via the Lauteret it is some 45 km back to Bourg d’Oisans, most of it downhill and some of it steeply so. Once again, I had some fun on the fast descent, and found a good fast group of Dutch and Belgians to make pace with and together we made the trip in just around an hour. This made back a little of my lost time, and added some excitement. Possibly the scariest parts of the course for me came in this section – tunnels. This section of road descends some rough mountain ravine terrain so goes through numerous tunnels. Some are long, and quite dark. And they are downhill and curving – so you are flying along at 45-50km/h in a group of 10-15 riders (wearing dark glasses in the blinding sun) and suddenly are in a tunnel, with visibility perhaps 15% of what it was a second ago. You can’t see the road surface, you can’t clearly see the rider ahead or behind you and you can’t see the end of the tunnel. It is downhill so you feel the bike accelerate, and it is curving so you have to strain to see the road lines. You are in a group so you can’t slow or make any sudden movement for risk of collision. So you have to trust the others, concentrate and then all of a sudden “pop” you are back in the sunlight. Wow. 2 or 3 of those were more than enough excitement for me…
Finally we reach Bourg and the foot of the Alpe d’Huez. It is 35 Celsius. I am pretty spent. Only 14km and about 1100m between me and the finish. I ponder gloomily why I do stuff like this. I consider just stepping off my bike and calling it a day. Then, like always, decide that I have come this far and somehow will get it done. Nothing to do but grind uphill. Then I hit the first switchback of 21 and through my tunnel vision haze I see the Different Bikes ff logo and ‘Go Dad” painted in a repeating series on the road around the curve. I’m on the Alpe d’Huez, in a bike race, and my name is painted on the road. By my kids (and my biggest fan Mo!) OK, I can do this! They had painted just about every other corner. It didn’t make me faster but it did help me make it! What a scene it was on this climb. Hundreds of riders, slogging, grinding, suffering toward the finish. Some walking. Some sitting on the parapets in the shade resting. It was not pretty. I just ground it out. It took me nearly 20 minutes longer than my training ride up only a few days before but I made it. I got to the line in just under 7:40, with my kids cheering me in! I made some sillymistakes, and it took longer than I had hoped, but I had survived the Marmotte!
Looking back it was an incredible experience and I am glad I did it! Well organized, incredible and famous route, riders from around the continent and world – If you love cycling challenges, I highly recommend putting La Marmotte on your list of rides to try!
Below a couple of early pics from the race (still trying to get some good originals) These were from Galibier, up and down.
June 15 The Ventoux Follies
Another bonus of the area we are staying in
First, a quick overview of Le Ventoux for those of you who are uninitiated to its fame and intrigue:
Geologically part of the Alps mountain chain, Ventoux stands over a hundred kilometres distant from the main Alps and rises distinctly above the rolling
I had been there once before – in Sept 2006, my brother Matt and I first rode up Ventoux. It was past the busy season, and followed a week of riding in the
Ascent 1 – I went with a local riding partner in mid May on a “recon” mission - I planned to bring my wife Mo here to experience the climb and wanted to make sure I could be an effective tour guide with no surprises if possible. On this ride, we did the classic climb from Bedoin, then descended the longer, more gentle eastern flank to the town of Sault and rode a rolling route from there back to Bedoin (incidentally a similar route that the 2009 Tour will take from Sault to Bedoin to attack the climb) It was a pleasant day, very windy and cool at the top, and a nice 78km loop with about 2000m of climbing. I was ready to be the tour guide.
Ascent 2 – As we looked at the calendar to find a day to go and do the climb together, Mo and I hit on Thursday June 11. This was the day that the annual Dauphine Libere pro stage race was going up Ventoux! We would be unable to stay for the pros to come through (had to get back to school to get the kids) but would be able to do the famous climb while it was marked and closed for the race. It was an unforgettable experience. The course was busy when we started, but was closed to cars by the time we reached the top. Although the race was a couple of hours away, most of the 21 km length was lined with fans. It was a warm, sunny day, so on the lower wooded slopes, most were set up as for a picnic – tables, chairs and blankets set up in the shade by the roadside, accompanied by lots of food and drink. As we got to the famous final 6km in the bare open rock there were more RV’s and cars tightly lining the famous road in a sparkling row all the way to the distant summit which is tantalizingly visible for most of that section. Most were keen to cheer us along in our own climb, in a variety of languages – “bon courage” “forte forte” and “allez!” being the most common. We were also accompanied by hundreds of other amateurs like ourselves. It was a veritable mass pilgrimage by bike. As young as 10 or 11 and as old as perhaps 70 or more. Road bikes, hybrid bikes, mountain bikes, even a tandem o two, suffering, grinding and sweating up the huge climb. Big groups and individuals, experiencing a bit of what it is like for the pros. And yes it is tough. The Bedoin climb starts gently, with about 4 km of 3-4% grade through vineyards and orchards. Then you hit the forest line, make a hard left switchback and start climbing – the average grade from here up is nearly 9%, and there are sustained sections at 10-11%. One is quickly left looking for lower gears! Mo soon demanded an answer as to why her road bike did not have a triple… Upon reaching the 15km mark and the ski station of Chalet Reynard, you enter the “moonscape” of bare, broken limestone. The weather station building that flags the top is visible 6 km and about 500m vertically away, and the road snakes across the Ventoux flanks toward the top. You feel encouraged by the sight of the top and the slightly easier grade, but soon realize that there is a bunch of work left! Mo did an incredible job here, picking up her cadence and eventually rolling victorious under the
Ascent 3,4 and 5 - In my research about Ventoux, I had heard about an informal club that can be joined called Club des Cingles du Mont Ventoux Although pronounced like “single” it actually is a club for those who ride all three road ascents in one day – a “triple”. I am admittedly a person who is prone to attempting silly things like this, so I naturally decided I should try to do it while here this year. Thus, just two days after going up with Mo, we headed back to Bedoin, for me to make my triple attempt. It was a family trip on a Saturday, the kids and Mo would visit some local towns as well as do a hike around the trails at the summit while I rode up and down the beast a few times. Why not? The day turned out near perfect. Very clear, no wind, even at the summit, although as a result it was pretty hot. Around 35C at the base and a bit cooler at the top. So off I went, around 11am. I would recommend to others to consider starting earlier on a hot day, but I planned water stops and figured I would pace myself to avoid overheating. The short story is that it was not easy, but it was an incredible ride! There were again hundreds and hundreds of riders out, on all routes and all day while I was riding. There was no particular event going on, just lots of personal and club adventures on a beautiful June day. The vehicle traffic was regular but not oppressive, some of it was even interesting as there was a vintage car rally of some kind going on so lots of unique cars went by on a couple of the routes. I went with the most popular plan and started up the south Bedoin route, then down to Malaucene via the western route and back up that same route. It is a similar grade and total climb to the first and was tough, especially the long, sunbaked 12% sections in the middle! I then went down to Sault on the eastern side and finished with that somewhat easier and much quieter, although longer climb, and finally had a giggle-inducing descent down to Bedoin on a twisting road nearly empty of traffic (think averaging around 50km/h down a smooth, twisting road with little traffic for over 20 minutes).
Total numbers were 132 km (half climbing), 6hrs 15min time, 4.5 of which was climbing, the rest was water stops and descending. 4400 m of total elevation gain. I did not officially join the club de cingles as one has to send away for a form a bunch of days before doing it, which I was not organized enough to do – but I know I am an honourary member! It was not the hardest day I have ever had on a bike but was definitely a challenge! Best of all it was one of my “dream rides” to do, done on a perfect day, and I even saw my family cheering me at the top of the second ascent and near the end of the third – it doesn’t get much better than that.
If you get a chance, try Le Mont Ventoux!
May 27 Visiting the Giro d’Italia 2009
Living in the south of
The annual May spectacle of the Giro d’Italia is often outshined in
2009 marks the “centoanni” (100th anniversary) of the Giro and the organizers put together an exciting and historic set of stages, many of which have never been seen in any Giro and are unique in their variability. The Tour, for all its grandeur, is somehow more formulaic and rarely sees such variety of stages. Many of the grand cities of
And of course, our chosen stage to see - the individual time trial, held May 20th in the Cinque Terre. This stage was also unique as it is on roads not often visited by the Giro and was remarkably long and undulating for a time trial. The distance was 61km, with some 1100m of climbing. The ascents were long and often steep, with tortuously twisty descents on narrow but scenic coastal roads in this rugged area. After reconnaissance of the course, most riders in fact chose not to use their specific time-trial bikes, as the aerodynamic advantage was outweighed by the climbing and the bike handling required.
Some riders described the course as “more like a long breakaway in the mountains” than a time trial. Normally ITT’s at pro tours are ridden over shorter and flatter distances and won in times under and hour and at average speeds often over 50km/h. This stage was eventually won by race leader (at time of writing) Denis Menchov in a time of over 1 hour and 34 minutes, at an average speed of 38.5 km/h. He pulled off a “double” - snatching the stage win and the maglia
Riding a bit of the Giro
Of course, I wasn’t planning to just watch the stage. I had to ride some of it. After our visit to the Paris-Nice race earlier in the year I guessed the course might be generally available to ride before the race started and so brought my bike along. Here’s a summary of some of that experience:
- The day dawns sunny and promises to be hot. I can see and hear the finish line being set up on the road high above our flat in Riomaggiore. I don the blue and white DB colours, my trusty Rocky road bike and head out.
- My plan is to ride out on the course from the finish to about the halfway point and then turn around and “time trial” it back to see how it feels. My turnaround will be at the town of
- Unsure of what state the course will be in, I grind up the 300 vertical metres from our flat at the seaside to the finish line. I am blocked immediately by a carabinieri (police) who (I think) is saying that there is no way I can get through to ride the course. Frustrated, I am soon joined by a small group of other cyclists with similar plans to mine, one of whom is Belgian but fortunately speaks Italian and is also apparently rather persuasive. Soon enough we are navigating a beehive of setup activity at the finish line - once through that are spinning along the fully closed road that is the Giro TT route!
- I immediately start climbing (the final descent of the course) and note how steep and twisty this descent will be. The road is perched on steep hillsides about 250-500 m above the sea with tight hairpins and precipitous drops behind marginal barriers. A lovely road ride, but scary to imagine at speed.
- Several of the tighter, more exposed corners are set up with 15 foot high nylon catch nets like are seen on the edges of DH ski courses. Yikes!
- I pass through numerous small villages. All are very festive and very, very PINK. Pink is the colour of the leader’s jersey and the colour of the Giro. It is everywhere. Painted on the road. Huge banners and signs and tents in pink. T-shirts, hats, shorts, balloons – you name it, pink is the colour and clearly more favoured by men than women. Each village has set up a big party/viewing area that generally consists of tents with bars in them and lots of banners welcoming the Giro. It is around 10 am and most are filling rapidly and already very festive.
- The road is closed to public traffic but there is a steady stream of cyclists like myself going both ways, lots of official cars and trucks bustling back and forth. Occasionally a team car goes by with a rider in front of or inside it, scoping the course. Relatively peaceful and a fun ride but one had to keep eyes open!
- Now up on the high plateau above the sea, I notice two riders approaching along the course. The first is dressed in bright yellow Livestrong kit and the second, smaller rider is in Astana gear. They are followed by a brightly painted Volvo wagon in Astana colours. Hey, that’s Lance and Levi! Apparently out reviewing the sketchy fast descent part of the course (it is still more than 5 hours until they are due to start). I resist the urge to turn around and give chase…
- For a while the course is very quiet, no one around. I wonder where all the famous Italian fans are. Then I reach the top of the big climb, and I find them… I now have to pick my way carefully downhill through throngs of people for nearly all of the 8km descent of what will be the big and decisive climb of the TT. Campers, tents, cars everywhere, bicycles by the hundreds. Thousands of people, all ages, most in pink. Incredible. Large encampments, covered with big event tents, and huge banners proclaiming “Basso Fan Club” or “Cunego Cunego Cunego” populated by what looks like the entire contents of those riders’ home villages. Much road painting is completed and more still underway. I weave through the freshly painted homages to their heros . Much of the pavement on the course is fresh, providing a lovely clean chalkboard-like canvas for their work. The smoke of dozens of BBQ grills makes me hungry, the sweeter smell of many more dozens of open vino bottles makes me vigilant on my descent! Wow, this is already a bit overwhelming, and the first racer won’t be at this point for nearly 3 more hours, with the last ones still about 6 hours away!
- I continue to the bottom and into the town of
- I hit the climb and just try to soak up the atmosphere while conjuring up my mental images of being a pro rider in a TT. There are plenty of other amateurs like me doing the same thing, all in their own little dream worlds. It was a blast! The still-growing crowds were happy to cheer any riders at this point. The road was clearing up of official car traffic and some sections I was able to fly through at a grin-inducing pace. The climb was tough but steady, the false flats along the top section were punishing, and the descents were fun unless I tried to go really fast and then they were hair raisingly scary! End result? Let’s just say that my average speed was quite a bit lower than the winner’s. Sure I’m no pro rider, but I also rode only half of the course. And I had not ridden thousands of km over the past 2 weeks. Good perspective, although I didn’t really need to do the ride to know I am not pro peloton material.
- My writing skills are insufficient to describe the pure enjoyment I felt for that 50 or so minutes – riding my bike, on a beautiful day, on incredible roads with jaw-dropping scenery, along a closed course, lined with the sights, sounds and smells of the Giro, only an hour or so before the caravan and the riders would be flying through. I will never forget it.
After my course tour, my family and I loaded up a knapsack with refreshments and hiked up to the race course, explored for a good location, and eventually spent the sunny hot afternoon watching rider after rider crank by under the ‘flamme rouge’ (the 1km to go banner) which was placed on a nasty little uphill and provided a good feel for the effort and speeds.
Again, like many sporting events, being there is so much different than on TV. On one hand, you have no idea what is actually going on! No time splits or updates, it is all guessing. It was hours before I knew who had won. But on the other hand, you are there. You hear the crowd around you and listen to the banter about the race. You see the numerous camera and lead motos buzzing by, the endless team, event and official cars, usually 2-3 per rider. The TV helicopters hammer by occasionally, or hover overhead, usually a good sign of a big name coming. You feel the heat off the pavement, see the effort of the riders, hear the occasional missed shift as they desperately seek more power on the last big effort. I watched another stage of the Giro on TV a few days later and it was now different. Both somehow less exotic Read more Blogss »
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