The Longer Story - The Ride to Mt. Ventoux - Part II

This is Part II of our experience at the 2009 L'Etape du Tour. As a reminder, the following is the profile and map of the course.




The Col d'Ey was next on our agenda. This was a category 3 climb, so not too tough, but it was the first longer climb and a preview of what was to come. Little did I know that it was nothing close to what was to come.

One thing that impressed me the most was how people came out along the route. The real Tour de France would follow us in about 5 days, but it was great to see so many people come out in small villages to cheer us on. There would be signs for fresh peaches and apricots as we approached the village, and then the town, young and old, would be out offering water, fruit and encouragement. I was amazed at the number of seniors out helping at the rest stops, climbing over each other to give out water and cut up oranges to give to the sugar craving cyclists.

That said, the pre-assigned rest stops were completely insane. The following is a first hand example of the madness from the first stop on the way.



The next climb was the Col do Fontaube. I believe it was a category 4 climb, so not too intense. I captured a bit of video along the way, and the Col crested in a charming village.

First, the happy start of the climb - we are riding together as a group for once - apologies for the sun tan lotion smeared on part of the lens. Did not clean it until further down the road.



Didn't realize how hard I was breathing during the climb - actually felt pretty good at this point.



Finally, the summit. Apologies for the 10 seconds of my right gear shifter.



Now as we swing north of Mt. Ventoux, we start to get teasing close-ups of the climb yet to come.



We've now been in the saddle for over 5 hours and the heat (95 F) starts to take its toll. Here is a flat section outside of Sault and my first admission that the pace (over 18 mph since the start) was starting to catch up on me.







At this point I caught up with some of the other riders of Team Cannondale, but knew that there was the challenging Col de Notre Dame des Abeilles on the horizon. I chose to hang back and not try to chase the young guys up the climb.

We had a very long, but straight descent after Notre Dame. Although I did not have a way of measuring speed, others reported speeds of 45-50 mph on the descent. I did let the bike roll here for a bit, but I found myself feathering the brakes if I was coming up on other riders.

Although I did not have the course map in front of me, I thought I knew most of the climbs from advance reading. But all of a sudden the road pitch started to pick up, and I was not sure if somehow they slipped in another climb without telling us. At the end, it was probably because the heat was catching up, and my stamina was getting diminished. It was not until I asked someone on the side of the road for the name of the area, so I'll just call it the Col des Aurel, even though it is not an official climb.

We started to now swing south around the eastern edge of Ventoux, and finally arrived in the village of Bedouin. Bruno caught up with me, and knowing that Ventoux was soon to arrive, we made sure that we were well rested, water bottles were full and we had something to eat. As we were ready to leave, Bob Baird showed up, so we let him top off his water bottle. Just before we arrived in town, the road started to get steep again, and I was wondering whether the climb to Ventoux had started, but it was just the entry road into town.



As we left Bedouin, a sign marked the official start to the climb of Mt. Ventoux. We had 4 riders together, but had agreed in advance that the climb was going to require us each to ride at our own pace. So within the first 2 km of the 21 km climb, we began to separate. At the start, the grade was fairly gentle. Although we were tired, it seemed pretty reasonable and I felt OK. Little did we know what the next 5-10 km had in store for us.

The pitch gradually picked up to between 7-8% - what we expected at that point. I knew that there was some sort of forest that we had to go through on the way, so I thought there could be a chance for some cooler temps and shade. I don't know the formal name for this forest, but I have since named it the Forest of Hades. The climb continued in the range of 8-10%. While in this pine forest, the trees went straight up, so there did little to protect from the sun. They were very effective in limiting any breeze, so we were on our own to moderate our body temperatures. The challenge was that the grade did not relent. It continued at the same pitch without a stretch of flat road for recovery. I felt my heart rate climb as I became more and more winded. I tried pedaling slower - no recovery. I tried pedaling faster - made matters worse. I started wishing for a 27 cog rear derailler - none magically appeared. I then started to think how all those people with triple chain rings (formally very uncool in my book) looked like the smartest people on the mountain.

I started to feel very sleepy in the saddle, and also started to feel cold prickles on my arm - almost like water was being sprayed on them, but there was not water to be found. At this point the voice of my daughter came back to me, and I thought of a strong running friend who collapsed at mile 22 of the NYC Marathon, only to be carted away in an ambulance and not finish the race he worked hard for. A hundred other excuses popped in, and I concluded that time did not matter as much as to finish safely. So after seeing dozens of riders napping under trees on the side of the rode, others being treated for heat exhaustion from the ambulance and gendarmes, I chose to pull to the side of the road under a shady section and catch my breath. It probably took 4-5 minutes to get my heart rate down, and I did feel a cool breeze. I ate some gu, drank some more of my nauseating gatorade endurance with an extra salt tablet, wished I had plain water and collected my thoughts. It was amazing what a difference a few minutes made. Then I got back on the bike (without walking) and continued the climb.

The forest seemed to never end. I continued with a repeat pattern of about 500-800 meters of climbing, then as I felt my heart rate climb and breathing became heavier, pulled into some shade and recovered. This strategy killed my hopes for finishing under 8 hours, but it gave me a greater confidence that I was going to be able to finish. It was amazing to see how much suffering was going on in that forest. There were campers already there for the Tour that would follow in a few days, and many of them just watched in awe as riders clawed their way up the mountain. Many offered encouragement, some offered water to friends, although I was hoping some would offer some for me. I heard about firemen spraying down riders somewhere along here, but I must have missed that part. I did see someone pouring water over riders heads, but as I approached this kind soul, the rider in front of me fell off his bike and was then hit by another rider - and a bunch of swearing in French ensued, so I turned off to the left and missed that opportunity to cool off.

I knew that the next thing that pulled me through the Forest of Hades was the thoughts for Chalet Reynard, which was 6 km from the summit. It was the next water stop, and I knew that it was clear of the forest. As the forest started to thin, a slight breeze picked up and I was more motivated to get to the next break point. I pushed through the last km and finally arrived at Chalet Reynard. It was the usual rest stop mob scene, and I quickly rushed over to the volunteers in hopes of some water. Unfortunately, just as I arrived, the volunteers announced in French, "sorry sir, there is no more water."

I stood there in shock for about 30 seconds before reacting. I heard that they ran out of water in previous races, but thought they had learned their lesson. I guess not. At that point, survival skills kicked in. I saw other cyclists smartly start to scour the "empty" water bottles that were strewn on the ground for a few sips of water. I soon joined them, and did find a bottle or two with an inch of backwash remaining. And it tasted great.

I started to walk over to the actual Chalet Reynard, and saw a bunch of riders clamoring around a water pump. Water was trickling out while someone manually pumped, and a bunch of very thirsty riders were shoving each other around to get their bottle filled. I was unsuccessful in getting my bottle positioned to get water, so decided I would pump and eventually negotiate my bottle to the nozzle. After about 5 minutes, this strategy paid off - and I did get a full bottle.

I quickly drank the whole thing and realized that I needed more. There were a bunch of people lined up to get in the snack bar - so I joined the group. Inside I found that they were selling small bottles of water and cans of coke for 3 euros each ($4.50). I happily paid the price, and took my water and Coke and had a seat with the other tourists. I looked out from the covered snack bar and watched the mass of humanity arrive to discover that the race organizers ran out of water. You can see several of the $3-5K bikes strewn on the floor as riders just dropped their steeds on the road and came into the snack bar for refreshment.

After about a 20-30 minute recovery at Chalet Reynard (at this point time was not a factor for me), I picked up my bike, charged with the sugar and caffeine from my can of Coke, and started up the last 6 km. I'll let the video and my corny narration speak for the last 6 km of climbing.

The Longer Story - The Ride to Mt. Ventoux - Part I

It is amazing that 4-5 months of physical preparation, plenty of valuable advice, research and good wished final resulted in the “4 old guys” arriving at the start line at Montelimar. I apologize in advance for the poor video footage (in particular the embarrassing commentary) as I attempted to capture footage with my new Flip Video camera. The camera was very convenient, but does not have any anti-vibration correction, so you feel every bump in the road as I did. Now, on to the summary.

We were awake with the dark at about 4:30 AM, to load up our bikes in the truck and have a quick breakfast. The hotel had “organized” a special meeting room with your breakfast the night before – no one could be up that early to service us. Breakfast consisted of left over cold pasta, some ham slices, yogurt, bananas, some day old bread and coffee made the night before. The team straggled in one by one with lots of grumbling about the food.

After breakfast (and while still dark), we had to get all of our bikes from our rooms into the travel van. The bus to carry people arrived on time, but the van was a bit late and anxiety started to mount about how we were going to get our bikes to the start line. Fortunately the driver eventually arrived, and after a little bit of reorganizing, we were able to get the 20+ bikes in the van, with the remnant bikes into the aisle of the bus.

We even had a chance to see a French Ceasar at 5 in the morning ...

The bus ride over to Montelimar was fairly non-eventful. The sun was just starting to rise, and everybody was in a half-awake state while heading over. The countryside was beautiful, and as we started to get closer to Montelimar, there was a notable increase in bikes and vans with bikes attached, as well as riders commuting from their homes/hotels to the start. About 3-4 km from the start area, the traffic started to pick-up, so our group leader wisely advised us to disembark, collect our bikes and ride to the start. We pulled off to the side of the road and everybody finalized their kit and supplies for the day, took care of any last minute calls of nature and mounted the bikes to ride into town.

While we were preparing, several riders were coming through and a fairly impressive team of about 20 riders in red came by on their way into town.

Once we left the bus, it was not too obvious what the best route was to the start, so everybody just followed the flow of riders in hoping that someone up front knew the right way. Montelimar was still somewhat asleep, so it was funny to see all the riders converging on the start. There were several significant “bouchons” (traffic jams, or literally, corks) on the way in, so we had to walk/ride quite a bit on our way.

Finally, we arrived at the pre-start holding pens. Our pen was completely jammed with riders, so we spilled out into a round-about. There were already a bunch of spectators starting to arrive, and the volunteers were very friendly and accommodating. The start was animated by a couple of French commentators speaking about the history of L’Etape, the Tour de France, and what was arranged for the day. Their voices were broadcast over a loud sound system, so all 9500 riders could hear them. The line around the porta-potties was quite long, but the French also had an ingenious (although not very private) urinal system for men to use while waiting. It was essentially a pod with 3-4 separate urinals in one section – very effective, but I couldn’t see it working in the US.

Finally, the hour approached. The commentators did the count-down to 7 AM, and everybody cheered. And waited. And waited some more. Actually, we waited about 25-30 minutes before we began to roll carefully out of town. We all wore electronic chips, so it was not an issue with time, and although the delay was notable, once we started rolling, everything was fine. We passed the start with lots of beeping confirmations that our chips were being read, and the crowd cheered as we passed the first round abouts to leave the town. Spectators fully lined the roads behind barriers, and others had scrambled on top of the round abouts for a better view of their departing friends and family.

We crossed over a bridge out of town and had our first hard left that everybody was warned about, but it was not an issue. About 15 km out of town, we started our first climb, on the Col de Citelle. It was great to finally stretch out our legs and start to warm-up, as many were wearing arm warmers and light jackets on the start. Those were quickly removed as the sun started to warm the French countryside, and our bodies warmed up over the climb.

After the Col de Citelle climb, we started our first descent en masse. It was pretty crazy with many people pushing pretty hard and trying to pass on the left. The descent was not horribly technical at first, and many riders started to build up their confidence. That was probably their mistake, because the first crashes started to appear … guys clearly descending faster than they should … even on the straights … and tying up wheels with the guys in front of them. I think I counted 4 crashes on the descent, two of which were serious enough that ambulances and doctors were there to help out. After the straights, we started to get into more technical descent turns … without guardrails, of course. I must confess that at this point I decided to ride my brakes for a bit. I kept hearing my daughter’s voice in my head “now Dad, be safe, OK?” and she would not let me leave until I verbally confirmed I would be safe. I just did not have the confidence to go down the descents all out, so I would feather the brakes before every turn and definitely let a few guys go by, but I decided it was just not worth the risk.

After the first climb, we had some gorgeous scenery before our next significant climb at Col d'Ey. More to follow in Part II.

So what are we riding for the 2009 L'Etape du Tour???

This next section may not be as interesting to the non-riders out there, but for those who do ride - I hope to make you envious. The four old guys have been fitted with what Bob Baird has declared as the greatest bike in the world ... the Cannondale Super Six.


We've had only a few hours to ride on these bikes before the big event on Monday, but I can say in that short time that these bikes are tremendous. This is very similar to the equipment that is being used by Team Liquigas in the actual Tour de France - Cannondale's most recently launched and premium line. We have learned that the weight of these bikes is so low (12 pounds), that is below the standards set by the UCI, so Team Liquigas has to insert extra weight below their seat post to make them legal (the good news is that they did not have to add the weight on our bikes!)

I am clearly not a pro, but I find the bike incredibly responsive - a pleasure to climb on, fast to accelerate out of turns and very comfortable in overall geometry. We did put the bikes through a bit of a test today with our off road adventure - and they performed without a hitch.


Although most of us brought our own saddles from home, the fizik saddle that came on the bike is so comfortable, that most of us are not changing our saddles.


In addition, the SRAM Red gruppo that came on the bikes is clean in transition - once you get used to the small differences in shifting from that of the Shimano gruppo that most of us have at home.



So in summary - these are killer bikes. If we don't make it up Ventoux on Monday, we cannot blame the bike, it would be about the engine. And even some of our engines will be getting a little extra boost by riding on such exceptional gear. But regardless whether we make it or not, we will look outstanding with a beautiful Sugoi team kit that matches perfectly with these beautiful machines. Thanks Team Cannondale!

So what is the 2009 L'Etape du Tour?

Some may not know the details of the 2009 Etape du Tour. The following is the profile of the ride:


This is the full second to last stage of the Tour de France – which will apparently sort out the final winner of the tour. We have learned that Tour etiquette does not permit riders to attack the yellow jersey on the Champs Elysees, the last stage. So the last stage, and the dangerous looking sprints are largely for show - although they can matter in the quest for the Sprinter's green jersey.

The following is the commentary contributed by Dan Aaron in an email earlier this year:

“Weather may play a significant role in this year’s Étape. Will it be the same as nine years ago when L'Étape du Tour riders were stopped short of the summit due to hailstorms and a temperature of 1º C? Or, wet and cold as it was last year finishing at Hautacam? Or will the Mistral be blowing? A cycling article describes Ventoux as a kind of midlife crisis heaven: Mistral is a phenomenon of the Rhone valley and the coast of southern France, a north-westerly wind like no other. It doesn't gust much; it just blows - and blows hard, too, like a wind tunnel at full power. The wind on the Ventoux is greater, often up to 200km/h, and then it forces the road to shut since, at that speed, it could lift cars from the road; walkers and cyclists would stand no chance. The Mistral also brings a bitter cold and stops you dead in your tracks, reducing your speed to walking pace, or lower. On occasion, even at sea level, the Mistral can sweep riders into the ditches by the roadside. But Mistral or not, it is usually windy on Ventoux. The wind clears the skies and the southern slopes are invariably bathed in sun, so it is hot, really hot. They also call it 'the furnace'. The slopes have claimed many lives. Yet, for some reason, every summer, hundreds of French day-trippers grab their trusty steed, pack a picnic and head for the Géant. Ventoux becomes a cycling crusade. Given, frequently, a lack of physical preparation and, no doubt after a plentiful lunch, it all gets a bit much. In fact, there have been enough fatalities on the mountain to warrant an ambulance station being provided at the foot of the climb. While I have already sent a photo along with John’s emergency contact and insurance information to the station, I do not think that there is really any cause for alarm. In the face of nature’s fury, he is sure to employ the same equanimity with which he faces local traffic conditions.”

Funny enough, current weather projections call for 92-96 deg F on Monday. So we are concerned less about keeping warm than we are about staying cool and hydrated.

More to come.

On Our Way !!!

Bruno and I succeeded to make Air France Flight 17 from JFK to Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris ... and I am updating the blog from the Air France lounge as we wait for our flight to Lyon. We have started to play with the Flip Video camera ... still learning more, but attached is a rocky first video from JFK ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o61uIDc6Fd8

Bruno was lucky enough to trade in some extra miles for an upgrade to business class ... so when we finally got on the plane, we created a second mini-update ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQlSkLxgh_8

OK, OK , ... the content may not be all that compelling yet, but we are working out the kinks. Hopefully having taken these painful first steps (actually not that painful) we will be ready to provide some more exciting footage later.

We should be arriving in Lyon by about 10:45 AM on Friday, and hope to run into Bob Baird and Jim Carpenter there. After our reunion in the Lyon Airport, we'll be taking a rental car down to Montelimar .... actually, our hotel is in Privas, just north and east of Montelimar. We are hoping that our bikes will be waiting for us to go out and work off some of our jet lag.

Not much sleep on the way ... hoping to catch an hour on the flight to Lyon.

Looking forward to Dan Aaron's latest post!

Did anybody see my passport?

With our training behind us, this blog is going to attempt to capture the final preparations leading up to L'Etape de Tour 2009 - the climb up Mt. Ventoux. This is our first blog, but I hope we can capture the impressions of Four Old Guys - Bob Baird, Jim Carpenter, John Colbert and Bruno Perreault - as we tackle the Giant of Provence. Please feel free to keep the comments flowing, and we will attempt to document the event with pictures, video and the written word to share our experiences. Even as I type this introduction, the well wishers continue to call, email and text - some are concerned, other are envious, while still others think we are completely insane. The good news of the day came in from Jim Carpenter with is never ending research of the climb - he announced that the temperature on Monday, July 20th is now projected to be 92 F vs. the previously predicted 98 F. Discussions continue on whether or not we should be using salt tablets on the day of the ride, with the concern being that we have not trained with them to date. My concern is that we don't risk losing our valuable breakfast on the side of the road due to changes in our diet - but I'm sure there is more to report in this area.

Our preparations have also been well documented by Dan Aaron in his daily Bagel Boys news flash, where he documents how we have trained and provided plenty of commentary and support. There seems to be some trouble with the Yahoo Groups posting of his rantings, but if we do get them to work, you should be able to stay current by checking out http://sports.groups.yahoo.com/group/ogbagelboys/. Maybe Dan can back post his earlier ramblings? Or create his own blog?

I would be remiss if we did not go out of our way to thank Bob Baird and Team Dorel/Cannondale for inviting us on this adventure. We did have to put up with Bob's compression socks, the labeling of his non-conforming ride-mates as weenies, his ever present neon Liquigas kit at 5:30 in the morning, his abuse for anybody riding anything but a Cannondale (and special abuse for those Specialized riders) and his final sprint into town at the end just to show us all he had more pain to deal out to us at the end of our ride. Thanks Bob!

OK, back to work - more to follow. I will try to identify authors if Bruno, Bob or Jim submit their own posts.

JohnC