After what was meant to be an easy introduction to the Pyrenees on day one (err, yeah right), day two was about one thing and one thing only: the Col du Tourmalet.

This mountain climb is the reason our trip was planned in the first place. We wanted to ride one of the most fearsome climbs in the Pyrenees and one that the 2010 Tour de France will feature twice, in celebration of the 100th anniversary of the first time the Pyrenees was included in the great race.

As on day one, we planned a loop that would take us over several cols, avoiding a simple out and back route. We started from a small town just down the road from the foot of our first climb of the day, the Col d’Aspin, which will be used in the 2010 Tour and, at 1490m, was a good leg loosener before the main dish of the day.

This climb impressed with its beauty through the tree lined road and small granite walls flanking the edge of the road, with an impressive view back down the valley we had just cycled along. The gradient was also pleasant enough, but that soon changed. Several kilometres from the top the grade kicked up a notch at about the same point as the low cloud cover was beginning to make its presence known. The top reached and a photo taken, we bombed down over the other side.

At the t-junction at the foot of the Col du Tourmalet, we topped our bottles up at the conveniently placed drinking fountain, emptied the bladders and rolled past the first of many signs indicating what the next kilometre entailed. We knew roughly what lay ahead, a 19km ribbon of Tarmac which everybody who we had told we were riding warned us of the extreme suffering the Tourmalet inflicts on those brave enough to tackle it.

It’s probably an awe-inspiring ascent under blue skies and with the sun on your back, but due to that low cloud cover which I mentioned earlier, visibility was shockingly low from about 10km from the summit. The first few kilometres are enjoyable enough, almost lulling you into a false sense of security. But of course the gradient soon increases dramatically and never backs off at all. It’s steep and steep all the way to the summit, and nowhere does the gradient relax enough to afford a brief respite from the pain of pedalling.

It got colder and colder the higher we climbed, and visibility got less and less, down to a measly 10m nearer the top. Riding through large clouds of my own exhaled breath, beads of water clinging to every hair on my arms and streams of sweat pouring off my face, the going was incredibly tough. There were few other cyclists riding up, but a lot of motor traffic, many perhaps wisely choosing to recce from the comfort of the car in such appalling weather.

It’s not hard to see why the Tourmalet has the reputation it has, and why the Tour organisers have chosen to send the racers up it twice. The upper slopes are prime for some attacking from Contador and Schleck, which should please the hundreds of French and Spanish motor homes that had already claimed their spots when we rode it.

Reaching the top is worth the pain. A fantastic little café bedecked with cycling memorabilia, including original 1908 bicycles and posters depicting famous races scenes played out on the Tourmalet over the past century, and most importantly serving cracking hot food and cake. Outside, there’s a statue of Octave Lapize (wearing an interesting expression), in front of which there was literally a crowd of cyclists and other tourists queuing to get their photos taken in front of. You’re never far from a fellow Brit, as it proved when one offered to take a photo of me in front of the Col sign, my Rapha outfit obviously signally me out as a Brit.

Suitably fed but still cold, we dropped back down the same way we had previously climbed. And this proved just as tricky as the ascent. Bitterly cold and increasingly soaked through from the moisture in the air, and our jerseys still saturated from the climb up, the roads slick with water, it was anything but enjoyable. I found it thoroughly miserable, and it was a relief to drop below the cloud cover and be able to see further than a few metres and feel the temperature increase and the feeling return to my fingers and legs.

Afterwards, we chose a small route that would take us north and loop around to where the car was parked. This included a rolling, and in places steep, rode through some of the most beautiful countryside we had yet experienced on this tour. Remote quiet narrow country lanes, no motor vehicles and no other cyclists, is was quiet a contrast to the mayhem that was the Tourmalet.

It also, handily enough, included two cheeky Cols (in true Phil Deeker style), the Col des Palomieres and Col de Coupe. Together with the Aspin and Tourmalet, our total ascent for the day was 3030m of climbing in 115km. Not a bad day really.