The start – loads of us

The 2006 Etape was billed as a classic. Finish atop Alpe d’Huez. The appeal is etched into cycling folklore. Pantani took 37 minutes to belt up it. We all wanted to match our abilities to the pros and see how close (read: miles away) we’d be to the angels of the mountains. So we at RCUK were lucky to go to the area to pre ride the legendary hill, what was all the fuss about? we thought initially, it’s only 12% max… then try riding it after 180ks and after the Izoard and so on – you’ll find out how hard it is to be a pro rider. Here’s how we found it…

We wake up with the best news. Italy won. We had slept after all. Sports Tours International had a great hotel in the small town of Ancelle, just 18kms from Gap and downhill all (most of) the way. It was cold, but a suitably short trip to start the day.

The start was the usual hectic through and off challenge to make it into a fast moving group that still felt comfortable. Plenty of French Etapists were happy to roll along and share the work. The wind was helping, the sun was warming us up and the first two hours were spent pretty quickly. iPod Nano on (don’t try this at home, I had it on quietly) I was moving on from Kraftwerk to Motorhead. Overkill.

The water ran out – the top of the Izoard

The lead into the Izoard was good, a high pace meant that we reached there with only a few small pelotons ahead, so I went into ‘easy mode’ and let the fast boys use up their energy in the meadows at the foot of the legendary hill. De la Soul and the Sugar Hill Gang. After pre riding the Izoard I knew that the first section is the toughest and the tree lined switch backs at the start of the really steep section would have people gasping, not just for air but at the view. I looked over into the valley and saw the finest peloton I’ve ever seen snaking away into the distance. Awesome. Compelling and simply moving.

Ticking away in the 26 I was taking on Joe Beer’s mantra (breathe through your nose and that’s just hard enough). Onto HardFi and Randy Crawford (bizzarre choices these). The Casse Desert looked amazing and with the summit only 3kms away I took on some more food and a couple of Go gels ready for the descent. So far so good.

The Izoard descent was fantastic. The switchbacks are some of the best in the High Alps. This didn’t stop a rider in our group ‘doing a Beloki’ and spanking the tarmac hard. I felt a little nervous now and after a crash a few weeks before I eased off a little, my nerve was challenged and I wanted to stay in one piece today. The Stanglers and Public Enemy took me all the way to the foot of the Lauteret but by now things were getting a little lightweight in the peloton, I was isolated on the other side of the Izoard. Seeing as the best Etape advice is to keep in the group that you feel comfortable yet still making progress, I was getting a bit edgy. This lot had decided to go on strike mode. Little effort was made to keep the pace, so I spent most of the Lauteret driving a bunch of grumpy Frenchmen, perhaps they were still mourning Zindane and co?

The finish – loads of pasta

So given the chance again I’d have taken it easier on the Lauteret got into a better group – not spent energy lifting the pace. There was no need to panic though especially as we re grouped with some more willing legs on the descent and I went into the Magic Numbers which helped me catch a faster bunch happy to through and off all the way to Bourg d’Oisans.

Once again the Alpe loomed. Turn 21. I’d just pinched a Go Gel (his last one, thanks Ian!) off Ian O’Hara who had flown past me on the Lauteret. We were now on the lead in and grabbed a last bottle of water. It was 35+ degrees and I was comfortable, if a little sweaty. Turn 13 and I’m steaming. Turn 9 and my feet are on fire. Helmet strapped over the bars and the iPod now removed ‘Ullrich style’ the atmosphere is excellent and I’m covered in freezing cold alpine water by some very enthusiastic spectators. A shock, but still a nice one.

The final few kilometers were unbearable, for everyone. I was alternating between pedalling and stretching, fighting for shade and struggling to hold onto wheels. It was hell. The finish in sight and I’m cooked, I’m thinking of Hinault and LeMond, Marco and Armstrong, Zoetemelk and Kuiper. A pathetic kick for the line from me and one thing is stuck in my mind: How on earth do they race up this?

I am surprised at how many people have said to me that this is the first time that they have done something like this, not ridden in any mountains even and not been prepared for the severity of the stage (we tried to warn you!). Those who didn’t finish will be back I’m sure, but the message is clear: do take the training advice seriously you can’t ride the Etape on a handful of long rides.

The finish – Think of Pantani…

This year the organisation got the stage right (it was the toughest Etape for many years) however they got the fluid department very wrong. To run out of water at the top of the Izoard was inexcuseable – a travesty for those conserving energy and starting ‘slow’ in order to be ready for the Alpe, which was a sensible approach – just as long as you can keep hydrated! Dehydration was therefore inevitable. A warning for Etapes in future years and if you intend having a go yourself.

I have a love/hate relationship with the Etape. I like the fact that I can meet up with friends and ride on closed roads. I like the fact that you can ride the stage that the world’s best ride. I like the idea of it. But I hate the traffic, the early start, the logistics the endless nights of preparing bikes and stuff… and just the whole damn thing… Anyone fancy a Gran Fondo?

But then again it is a stage of the Tour and it’s that which still makes me smile.

The scrum for food and water on the Izoard

It’s 7:30am on the road out of Gap. Mountains pierce the pale dawn sky as I ride briskly along the shore of a pretty Alpine lake. At this time of day you would expect to have the road to yourself, but today I’m not alone. I’m one of 7500 riders in the huge cavalry charge that is the Etape du Tour. The roar of 15,000 bike tyres on tarmac fills the air. As we pass through a sleepy village, local people clapping and cheering line the road. I have just one thing on my mind: 100 miles ahead, the other side of two enormous mountains, is Alpe d’Huez and I’ve got to ride up it.

The day passes in a blur: dazzling mountain peaks; azure lakes; sparkling waterfalls; dark, scary tunnels; roadside jazz bands; twisting hairpins; scorching descents; cool water sprayed from garden hoses; and thigh-burning climbs. After 100 miles and 7 hours of hard riding over the Col d’Izoard and Col de Lautaret in the heat of July, the day really begins. I reach Bourg d’Oisans, the small village in the shadow of Alpe d’Huez. Suddenly those 7 hours; those 2 huge mountains; those 100 miles; they all mean nothing. This is what I’m here for. This is what we’re all here for.

There are 21 hairpins on Alpe d’Huez. Everyone knows that, even your granny. What you don’t know until you’ve ridden up it, is that Alpe d’Huez takes you to the limit mentally as well as physically. It’s a relentless, terrible, beautiful climb.

The gradient, especially lower down, is so steep that I keep trying to find a lower gear than the 34×28 I’m riding on. I have to stand up and pedal out of the saddle just to keep going, wasting valuable energy. However, after struggling early on I’m soon into the rhythm of the climb. I’m counting down the hairpins towards the summit, though it hurts like hell: 21 – 20 – 19 – 18… Apart from the terrible pain in my legs, I’m feeling pretty good. Until hairpin 4.

As I approach hairpin 4, I reckon I’ve cracked it. Rounding the bend, I make the mistake of looking up. I can see the rest of the climb high above me: 3 – 2 – 1 – village – and an endless silent agonising procession of bikes crawling along the road, riders labouring to keep moving. At the roadside around me people are slumped in the shade, some sitting, others lying down, some vomiting, some being tended to by friends, others by medics, and riders being loaded into ambulances. It’s carnage.

One second I was fine; the next I’m in a living hell. My tired mind is convinced that after the next hairpin there will forever be another, and I will reach the top of the climb only to find myself once more at the bottom. It’s 35ºC but there are goosepimples on my arms and I feel cold and sick. I was a fool to think I could do this. I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. I thought I’d cracked Alpe d’Huez, but now it’s about to crack me.

I must stop. I can’t stop. I won’t stop. So I just concentrate on getting to the end of the next white line in the road, a couple of metres away. Then the next one; and the next one; and so on. I still feel terrible, tired, tortured. Just get to the end of the next white line. And the next one. Catch the next rider. Now another; and another. Just one word in my head, going round and round and round. “On, on, on…..”.

After an eternal struggle, I’m round the last hairpin; then riding through the village; then changing into the big chainring to sprint as hard as I can for the finish. Sadly, it’s not quite the sprint I’d hoped for, and I’m pipped on the line. So what, I just rode up Alpe d’Huez.

Two days later, and I’ve hardly stopped smiling. I keep saying it slowly to myself, to savour the feeling. “I….rode….up….Alpe d’Huez”. It took me just under 1.5 hours to climb Alpe d’Huez, twice as long as Marco Pantani’s record, but I don’t care. I did it too.

My ride also raised lots of money for a charity, Medecins Sans Frontieres. If you want to see how much I’ve raised, or even want to sponsor me yourself, visit www.justgiving.com/jimetape. And a big “thank you” to all my sponsors for your generosity, it really did spur me on when the going got tough.

I wonder where we’ll be next year? Whatever it is it should be a walk in the park after this and I wonder if I’ll have stopped grinning by then…