Prologue

This year I managed to talk a fellow cycling buddy, Henry Harris into joining me on the Etape du Tour. We signed up in November in order to secure much in-demand starting places.

I was sure that all the necessary preparations were in place – training schedules, carbo-loading, bike servicing, new tyres. We travelled over to Lyon and were bussed to Orcieres Merlette, a ski resort 36km outside of Gap. The less said about the Franco-Butlins accommodation, the better.

We registered at the event village in Gap on the Saturday. As we were busting to get on our bikes, we had ridden there. What we didn’t take into account was that the 70+km ride took in about 2,000m of climbing – more than we’d do in a normal training ride. Would this set us back for the big day? Sunday involved dropping the bike off at the start, and trying to get a good night’s sleep, which failed miserably.

The Start

4am starts are never my strongest point. I did try to eat as much as possible at breakfast, before piling onto the bus. We picked up the bikes and made it to the start line with about 15mins to spare. Was I nervous? Yes – I left my sunglasses, then my gloves in my bag so had to make 2 trips back to the bike park, before being ready to go.

7am and the gun went off. Unfortunately I was #5712 so had to wait another 20mins before crossing the line. Henry was #3304 so had less time to wait. The first 30kms were undulating and riders tried to get up the road as quickly as possible. Like last year, I went off quickly excited by the magnitude of the event. 30kms into the ride on a downhill section I saw 5 riders go off the side of the road and bodies and bikes tumbled in the gravel – ouch. The news spread up the road and the nearest gendarme called for an ambulance.

I had picked up the Australian National Team kit at the Etape village, which extracted support from the Aussies in the crowd as well as a few conversations along the course. I rode with an Americas Cup contestant from Perth for 20kms until losing him at the first feed station at Guillestre, which was an absolute bun-fight. I’d decided to by-pass this stop as I had sufficient water and food. Great plan apart from the traffic jam of bikes that preceded the stop. Like last year I ended up walking slowly for at least 15mins.

Col d’Izoard (14.2km at 7%)

The idea was to conserve energy and take it easy up the Izoard. Fat chance – I’d averaged over 32kmh for the first 2 hours and the climb is really 26km although the first 12km are below 5%. Towards the top my speed had dropped to 7kmh in places – it was going to be a long day. By the top my average speed had dropped to 21.7kmh. I needed to keep above 19kmh to avoid being picked up by the sweep bus (i.e. race over). I was somewhat frustrated by not being able to get into the highest gear, despite fiddling with the cable tensions en route. Could be a factor later on the last climb I thought.

My first scheduled drinks stop at the top of the hill was a scene reminiscent of a UN food drop in an African drought area. I ended up climbing into the back of a truck, grabbing a 6-pack of water bottles. 6mins for the stop and I was back on the bike. Gilet on, and I was ready for the descent, where I managed to get up to 74.5kmh. By the bottom of the hill I was up to 24kmh average speed so the sweep wagon was a distant memory.

After the descent we hit another feed station at Briancon, which I again bypassed in search of a fast time. The ultimate aim was a silver medal for the 30’s age group. This meant that I needed a time of 8:01 or an average speed of 23.5kmh. However factoring in the Alpe d’Huez climb which I guessed would take 1½ hours (10kmh average), I really need to average 26.4kmh by the bottom of the Alpe. Therefore I was behind, but not out yet.

After a ridiculously steep climb out of Briancon in front of 100’s of spectators (even a few Aussies), we regrouped into small pelotons and cruised towards the Col du Lautaret.

Disaster Strikes

One moment I was happily pedalling along in the peleton, next moment there’s a funny click in my right gear shifter and suddenly I’m in the bottom gear, slowing quickly. I stopped and realised that the rear gear cable had broken and my race was virtually over. Despite some desperate attempts, the only way to fix it was a new cable. There were roving mechanics on the course, but they were few and far between. I took a seat in an adjacent bus shelter and waited. I was soon joined by several retiring cyclists who were suffering from heat exhaustion (temperatures got up to 35C), including a delirious Englishman. Realising he was in a pretty bad way, I hailed a passing ambulance to attend to him.

Thousands of riders passed by, and still no sign of the yellow Mavic mechanics vehicle. After 1 hour a mechanic did appear, but didn’t want to stop, yelling that another 2 cars were “5mins behind”. Never trust the French! Another mechanic stopped, but claimed that only the truck behind could help. After 1½ hours the right mechanic appeared and fitted a new cable. That wasn’t the end of the problem as we realised that my gear shifter had ceased to work completely. All I could do was to get him to put it into the highest gear for the climbs, and look to free-wheel the descents.

Away I started up the Col du Lautaret. I was fairly conscious not to over-do it, but at the same time I had to keep ahead of the Sweep Bus. The last thing the mechanic said to me was that I could get to the base of Alpe d’Huez, but I wouldn’t have enough time to get up it. Red rag to a bull. Was it the Australian top, or the months of training, or the expectations of sponsors, friends and family – who knows? My motivations had changed – all I could think about was getting to the finish and climbing the Alpe.

Col du Lauteret (27km@ 4%)

I made it to the top and still no sweep bus. By the time I was back on my bike the field had begun to be very strung out, and I gradually overtook them, one by one.

The descent was comical. On the flatter bits I would spin in my biggest of 3 gears, and then free wheel when I couldn’t keep up. This continued for the 38km descent until we reached a 5km section of flat. Luckily I picked up the tail of 2 other riders – we knew we had to get to the bottom of the Alpe before 4pm when the route would shut. If it hadn’t been for these guys, I couldn’t have got there myself with my disabled 3-speed bike.

Alpe d’Huez (14km @ 7.9%)

We arrived at the last feed stop at the base of the Alpe and to my relief the road was still open despite being 4:05pm. I was out of water and took the gamble of stopping at the feed station, only to find that they’d run out of water and there was a shuttle system operating with ladies running to taps to fill our bottles. I realised I couldn’t get up the Alpe without water as it’s fully in the sun so waited. Thankfully the road was still open and I began the ascent.

By this point I was at least back with other riders, and I knew that unless another disaster struck I could probably make it. The organisers were to stop the timing at 6pm in order to re-open the road. It was 4:10pm so I had just under 2 hours. The first 2km are the toughest – averaging 14%, the steepest part of the entire route. All I could be was positive, after all that had happened, and once past the steep bit, the climbing became a little easier. The heat started to affect me for the first time in the race, and I knocked over my 1 litre bottle within the first 5km. All I could do was fill the bottle from a mountain stream and hope for the best.

It wasn’t the prettiest ascent but I made it up the 21 hairpins of the most famous climb in the Tour, and in 1hr 34mins, so not far away from the estimate. The last 1km flattens out, and I was able to resume my ridiculous spinning routine (my maximum cadence for the ride was 168rpm – usually it’s 110rpm).

I had made it up, and with 18 mins to spare. A big relief.

Official Results:

3304 – HARRIS Henry – 09h 00′ 52″ – 8h 50′ 12″ (actual) – 01h 59′ 14″ (Alpe)
5712 – WARD Richard – 10h 42′ 08″ – 10h 22′ 59″ (actual) – 01h 34′ 48″(Alpe)

If I take off the 1½ hours forced stop, my time gets very close to Henry’s time. It’s hard to compare that accurately though, as I had the benefit of the stop, but the detriment of a disabled bike for 60km, so who knows. The positives are that I kept going and did make it by the skin of my teeth. Still it was a disappointment not to know what my maximum effort was. There’s always next year…

Martin Solms – 9 hours 26 minutes
Race number: 7575

It was a warm start to the day as my mate Chris and I cruised down the hilly pass to the start of the race. Our race numbers, listed in the 7,000s, meant that we were ‘penned’ in at the very back of the starting line. Nervous chatter echoed through our start pen as the horn blasted off and the race begun. For the next mile – roughly 20minutes – we walked, and pushed our way to the official start line. I made sure that my chip was registered with a good stomp on the transistor mat – and then ‘my’ race began.

The first hour of riding was undulating enough to warm up, and attempt to settle into a rhythm, whilst struggling to gather a few remnants of riders together so as not to get stranded between any of the smaller pelotons. By this stage the legs were moaning as I had not ridden since the long drive across France – fortunately, the first water point was around the corner, and like many of the tail-enders, it was chaos which resulted in a good 20min amble to the nearest water table. Every man for himself at this point, so I parked the bike up and legged it over to the nearest table to refill my bottles.

Image: Start up Col D’Izoard and down to the waterpoint… Average speed up the col: 14.5km/h

The first water point was a small reflection of the other water points to come. Each water point turned into absolute chaos as bikes, bottles, food and energy bars were scattered across the road. At one of the water points, I dumped the bike on the ground, and hopped into the nearest truck so as to get a bottle of water. I ended up with a pack of six small bottles, which luckily for another English rider, he got half the bottles as he parked his bike next to mine.

A large white sign-board indicated that we had just begun the ‘Col D’Izoard’ – only another 30km or so to the summit. My right hand was constantly gearing down as I shifted my ‘new-Etape-only’ Shimano compact to 34-23. Two gears remained as my speed dropped, my heart rate increased and fatigue set in. In less than a km, I engaged the last two remaining gears.

My mind was playing games… why was I here? Should I not abandon? It’s too hot to ride… but regardless of the mental games, I had a Col to climb. Three km’s from the end, I was dog tired – legs were a mess, the mind had gone mental and the heat was relentless. I must have looked shattered, as it caused a Frenchman to change languages and shout in English that I was only 3km from the summit. Perhaps I was hearing things as I am sure the French don’t speak English!?! Crossing the summit line was a large yellow board with the words “100km to go!”. One Col down, two to go…

Image: Up Col Du Lautaret and down to the waterpoint before Alpe d’Huez… Average speed up the col: 16.9km/h

Hearing any rider chatting away in English was always a good distraction to the weary muscles, so when I heard two English chaps chatting away, I tucked in behind to listen to the comments. The one chap was using the Etape as a training ride for his ‘John O’Groats to Lands End’ attempt in two weeks time. Both riders eventually dropped me as they climbed, and I staggered up the long and boring Col Du Lautaret. Half way up the ‘hill’, I noticed a long tunnel towards the summit – it was this tunnel, and the coolness that it would offer, which kept me creeping up. One highlight of the route was riding through a village scattered with Polka dot jerseys hanging from doors, trees and even old bikes. It was the mental boost I needed as I gathered my mental state into some sort of thought pattern and realized it was precisely moments like this which made me choose to enter the Etape. Summitting the 2nd last Col provided leg relief as the next 38km were mostly downhill to the bottom of the Alpe D’Huez.

Just yards from the last water point, another yellow board listed the words “14km to go”. Topping up my water bottles and gulping the last of my two energy gels, I crossed the ‘start’ line for the summit bid. Immediately I had to stand and grind the 34-25 combo up the first sharp drag – it was at this point that I flicked my watch from speed to time and started mentally climbing the bends in 10min heats. The sun was relentless – peaking at a whopping 38Deg C. Fortunately, the spectators where willing to run alongside and pour cold water over any of the cyclists. I opted for many a drenching as the first hour (9km) of the last climb passed and still I had 5.5km left. Digging deep, I pushed upwards and onwards towards the finish. I was spurred on knowing that I was constantly overtaking the walkers and knowing that not one person had yet to overtake me up Alpe D’Huez. Eventually, I rolled over the finish line clocking 1:36 for the last Alpe finish. In summary, my time of 9hr 26min will be laughed at by the winner as he crossed the line in 6hours! [Ed - how about Frank Schleck's 4 hours 52 minutes!]

Image: Alpe d’Huez – Average speed up the col: 9km/h

Our two intrepid team riders had a mixed experience at the Etape. Here’s Adrian’s account, more to follow (check the Forum thread for more)

---

This was easily the most memorable ride I have ever done. It was my 50th birthday treat (!)
I took a little digital camera in my back pocket, and took loads of snaps on the climbs. With the help of them I can recall the day, but for a while afterwards it was all very hazy.
I enjoyed the Izoard, I avoided going too fast as Guy Swarbrick and I had driven it the day before so I sort of knew what to expect. It was an awesome climb, and in awesome landscape.

Adrian get’s some track time in cooler conditions!

The drink station was a farce, no water, so I took to scavenging from discarded bottles which had some water left. I then met Sarah from my club, just stood next to me!
Once over the top I got into a groove and flew down to Briancon, where I managed to get some more water, but that was a struggle, there wasn’t much left.

The gendarme was shouting that the bus was 20 minutes away, which meant I had been pulling away from it as it was only 5 minutes behind at the start.
The Lauteret was hot and deceptive. I started moving from group to group, sometimes taking riders with me and sometimes latching on to passing groups. I felt good there, and happy to be putting a lot of riders behind me. I started the descent with a 3/4 full bottle which I planned to use to wash down as much gel and energy bar as possible, but I lost it on some bumps, and got dehydrated by the time I got to Bourg D’Oisans, where of course there was no water. I rode up to the first bar in unbelievable heat, but got a bottle filled quite easily, and set off almost unable to pedal forwards. Not much further on I refilled the bottle from a roadside spring, and refilled it regularly for the next 5 miles, riding all the way at about 3 mph, but actually rehydrating a bit.

Once past the chapel I was in a trance, pedal 200 revs sitting down, shift up, stand up pedal 50 revs sit down and repeat. Then I looked up and couldn’t believe how much further to go the climb went. There were so many people on the roadside in all sorts of distress I guessed it was only a matter of time before I keeled over. I doubted I would get to the top, there was nothing that wasn’t screaming in pain. Then I saw the 1 km banner, and I had the presence of mind to take a picture of it. I also realised that nobody had passed me for the last hour, but that I had passed a lot of riders.

When I got to the top I almost wept, and tried to remain British, heading for the tent for water. I lay down on the floor which was covered in pasta and rubbish, and shut my eyes. I then headed of to see if I could find anyone I knew and find my kit. I managed to meet up with a mate from Reading by sheer coincidence, but not my clothes, he gave me a lift back to Gap later that night.

But thinking about it now sends shivers down my spine; How I managed to ride that final climb, given the state I was in at the bottom, how I passed so many riders, how I actually survived, and how I blagged a lift back from the finish, how much I enjoyed the Izoard, and how gutted I am that Guy never finished it.

On top of all that all the grovelling on 200k hilly audaxes in the rain to train.
I can’t wait to go back, etape or no etape.

Etape thoughts from RCUK reader Alex Murray. Please send in any pictures or stories to:
editor@roadcyclinguk.com

---

Firstly, huge congratulations to the Dynamos who made it to the top of Alpe D’Huez. I salute your efforts because that was just a plain brutal day in the saddle wherever you got to on the course.

Gap to the Izoard – Saw Richard (sorry don’t know your surname) at the start as the sun rose into a clear sky that would gradually become infernal. Was out of pen 6 and flying down the road in next to no time. Was really hard to find groups to sit in on as the only things going were either moving too slow/fast or really disorganised. Every time I looked behind me I could see a long line of lazy sods sitting on my wheel and refusing to come through.

Heard a cry of “go on dynamo” and saw one of you go flying past faster than I could manage in one of the litany of fast moving pace lines. Rolled over Lac Serre Poncon in good time and felt good as I approached the first feed station at about 9:10, 30 minutes up on the time limit.

Was met by a solid wall of cyclists dismounting at the most ridiculous jam due to the feed station being stupidly placed before the roundabout rather than to one side of it. Ended up losing about 25 minutes trying to shuffle forward before i grabbed what I could and set off up the Izoard.

The Col D’Izoard – As soon as the road turned uphill through the first section there were already people walking and scattered by the roadside. Saw a couple more Dynamos go past me as I grabbed water at a fountain in one of the villages along the way as the temperature was already rising.

As the gradient kicked up I was joined by Neil Jones and together we battled our way up the seemingly endless top section, having to stop with alarming frequency just to get our heart rates back down. This was hellish and there were hundreds of people walking already. Made it to the top inside the limit of the merciless “vehicule horaire” to find there was no water left so we were forced to grab a can of coke amongst the carnage of people already suffering dehydration.

Gilets on we took off down the sharp hairpin section hoping to make back some time before Briancon. Took the first few fairly steadily but as it became apparent we were among the last to have made it off the Izoard before the gendarmes I put aside caution and followed Neil’s instruction to “show these French how to descend”.

We flew into Briancon with a few minutes to spare only to find the vehicule horaire practically sitting on our wheel. When they started shouting “two minutes t get away or you are eliminated” I got spooked and took off down the road with my gilet still on and as much food and water as I could grab down my jersey.

Col Du Lautaret – Belted up the vicious little brute of a climb out of Briancon and onto the road to the Lautaret. After about 5km I started wondering when it was going to kick up and where Neil had gone.

Then I realised that there were no groups left on the road, just a desolate column of riders strung out like ants of the length of the climb. Fortunately and sturdy-built English chap came past me and I sat on his wheel for as long as possible while I tried to recover and soak up some fluids.

At one of the villages they were already aware of the lack of water and had formed a long line of people at the fountain so that all I had to do was try and recover while they held my bike and filled my bottles. This was such a blessed relief as I passed groups of riders huddled in the shade of buildings and collapsed by the roadside. Heatstroke and dehydration really took their toll and I was starting to feel it.

Still, no sign of the time limit car as I put my head down and kept on turning ridiculously low gears against the imperceptible but ever-present headwind. It seemed far more physically sapping and mentally draining than the Izoard had.

Then, just as the tunnel before the summit came into sight, I heard the familiar drone of a skoda signalling the time limit car. I wasn’t going to give up without a fight so as it moved alongside me I threw everything I had left at it to keep up with its 19km/h. The gorgeous french girl in the passenger seat rewarded my efforts by handing me up a small bottle of water which half went in my mouth and half in my face.

In turn I rewarded such generosity by pulling in front of it and blocking its progress – I figured that if it couldn’t pass me then, according to the rules, they couldn’t eliminate me. I kept up this ridiculous game until about 1km from the top when cramp overtook me and I wobbled out of its way. But I reckoned I could still get over the top and down to Bourg D’Oisans in time for the 4pm cut-off.

At the top of the Lautaret I was met by a line of gendarmes aggressively stopping riders from continuing passt the time limit car. So, with a suitably gallic shrug and while they were trying to stop someone else I shot through and took off down to Bourg D’Oisans. A little under and hour to make it but I was fairly sure that it was still possible.

The descent of the Lautaret actually achieved the impossible by being a worse surface than most of the really bad roads in the Surrey Hills. But putting aside any cautions whatsoever I slapped into the big ring for one last charge down the absolute limit of what I could manage, making full use of every inch of tarmac and the lack of other riders on the road.

The headwind up the valley meant I couldn’t relax at any point and had to keep on pushing even in the Tron-like tunnel with surreal blue lights. The speedometer was clocking no less that 45km/h all the way down until it levelled out and the cramps started coming in waves.

I was nearly at the foot of Alpe D’Huez and I thought I could make it just in time to sneak through again but, as I turned into the feed station, I could see they had put a barrier across the road and the time reading 4:10pm even though the time limit car hadn’t passed me on the way down. There was no way of sneaking past this time.

I handed over my transponder as they were practically ripping them off riders and slunk off to try and find some water which was yet again near impossible to find. Then the waves of nausea washed over me and I stumbled to the nearest medic who led me to the first aid tent where they told me I was dehydrated and unsurprisingly suffering from exhaustion. After a rather emotional hour in pain I stumbled out again to face the indignity of getting on the broom wagon.

In total it seems like around 3000 riders ended up in the wagon and they were still stopping riders all the way up the Alpe. Given the heat – around 35C plus in the shade – and the lack of water it’s not surprising so many didn’t finish. I’m glad that I got as far as I did and was probably one of the last to be swept up but mighty peeved I didn’t get to take on the Alpe. Once again, hearty congratulations to all who did finish. I’m off to bed now to lick my wounds and plan my assault on next year’s Etape.

Read more at: atomicecho.com/etape/

We are working through hundreds of pictures from our recent trip to France. We rode the Etape and stage 5 of the Tour, so it was all pretty exhausting. Loads of news and views to follow and please send in your thoughts and pictures from the Etape:
here

---

Hoy and Queally, would have won the sprint if it wasn’t for those pesky hills…

We managed to bump into Chris Hoy at the start of the Etape and he looked relaxed and ready for the effort ahead. There was some friendly banter as to who would ‘win’ out of him and Jason Queally, although as yet there’s no confirmation as to who was first over the Alpe. The following is a brief account, according to his website:

Chris Hoy completed the course which took him over the Col de l’Isoard – 2360 m, Col du Lautaret – 2057 m and Alpe D’Huez, 1427m – totalling 3214m of climbing.

The message was short and to the point. “It was the hardest thing I have ever done” he said. “Can’t speak just now but will call later” His actual time was 8hr 16min but he had a couple of stops on the way “to wait for Jason and Shane” so reckons his actual ride time was close to 7hr 30min. For a big sprinter, just back from his holidays, that is not too bad. The fastest times were expected to be about 6hr 45mins and that will have been from the dedicated ‘mountain goats’but then they probably couldn’t get under 1.10 for a Kilo.

The day started before 4am. Up and down to breakfast and ready to go at 4.40. 25km ride to the start and then negotiate the 8499 other riders to be in position ready to go. The first section, climbing Col de l’Isoard, took 3 ½ hrs, quite an introduction to L’Etape. They waited at top for everyone from their group to arrive and then set off on the second section.

Usually he’s preparing for 200 metres of effort

The descent was exhilarating but soon the road went up again and it was over 2hrs before they hit the top of Col du Lautaret. They had been up for 8 ½ hrs and still had work to do. The last climb of L’Alpe D’Huez has 21 hairpin bends, each of which can bring you to a standstill even when in the granny gear. The final effort took about 3 hours. Chris arrived just after 3.30pm, 7 ½ hrs riding and two breaks of about 15 minutes. On crossing the finish line Chris was overtaken by a mixture of exhilaration and absolute tiredness. He has never driven himself as hard as this before and from what he says tonight, is extremely unlikely to do it ever again!

When he called, he had had some sleep and was going out on the town, just for a couple of beers, with his mates. I have a feeling it will be a cheap night out. Two beers and they will all be fast asleep on the table.

To all of you who have been so generous on the fundraising, a huge thank you. I think we have raised over £3000 to date. For those who have not got round to it, there is still plenty time. Chris was committed to the climb, you can now commit to raising funds for this fantastic charity.

More about how to donate here: Chris Hoy