ShredQuest.com

How to: L’Etape Registration

Tim M — Mon, 06 Sep 2010 09:32:16 +0000

The L’Etape registration is a very fun part of doing L’Etape.

The Entry

Apart from the necessary registration, the L’Etape registration is a fun few hours hanging out at a mini bike show.

Loads of manufacturers like Time, Ridley, Look, Specialized, Trek, SRAM are at the registration with loads of things for sale.

You’ll be able to buy energy gels and bars, as well as probably the best cycling socks I’ve ever bought (3 pairs 2009, 6 pairs 2010).

We turned up at 8.00AM and promptly were turned around as registration didn’t start until 9AM. We headed down to the Pau train station (Gare de Pau) and had coffee and croissants.

Registration times are advised closer to the date, however they are roughly:
-2 days prior: 2PM-8PM
-The day before: 9AM-8PM

If the registration days are on TDF days, you’ll be able to register in the morning and head to the TDF to watch if it’s nearby.

The registration is actually pretty painless and well organised.

You take your entry passport and passport to a section dedicated just to your group (e.g. riders 2000-3500), and present it (hint: knowing some French, at least “hello” and “thank you” is much appreciated by the French – check out CoffeeBreak French).

After receiving your entry pack, you go and get your backpack and tshirt (medium is the smallest size?!!). The backpack comes with Etape waterbottle and other schwag.

Hint: if your pack doesn’t get this red mark on it, you could probably pass it to a friend and get them to go and get another tshirt/backpack pack.

Entry pack!

After this, you’re free to roam around taking in the sights and sounds.

You’ll need cash is in case you find anything you’d like to buy. There are loads and loads of very cool and great-value souvenirs. Whilst most places accept credit cards, some take cash only.

Happily, there’s usually coffee, and the Rapha VW Kombi was there knocking out some pretty respectable coffee.

Rapha Coffee

There are usually some free mechanics on site for Etape entrants to make use of. We all had our bikes checked for various reasons (turns out the noise in my cranks was a cracked bottom bracket, which I found out upon my return) in 2010.

In 2009 and 2010 Mavic provided this service, with multiple mechanics on site and almost all speaking some English.

However, I strongly recommend getting your bike serviced before you go, and don’t plan on using them unless absolutely necessary.

Below are some photos I reeled off, including Cancellara’s motorised bike!

This is pretty cool

This is where the motor goes

Time

This was LIGHT

So was this

LaPierre's fairly-awesome TT bike

Retro awesomeness

Crazy

Again, pretty retro

All in all, a pretty fun morning, and I can’t wait to do it all again next year!Similar Posts:

Share on Facebook

The 2010 Tour de France and L’Etape du Tour Trip Wrap Up

Tim M — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 03:30:23 +0000

2010 was a doozy of a trip for TDF Tips. I, and my equally loony travel partner, the inimitable Michael J Brown, took off around the world to tackle L’Etape, eat croissants, drink (usually bad) coffee, drink some sneaky Heinekens, ride in the warm French summer sun, and revel in the greatest sports spectacle on this awesome planet.

And we did it in under 2 weeks. Insane? Yep. Fun? Hell yes.

You’d think after the trials and tribulations (and this one: photo rock) and obsessive planning I did, this trip would have gone as smoothly as a 20 year old Scotch goes down the hatch.

I got it wrong.

I was struck by my own ineptitude and conspiring nature of circumstance on this trip. Despite the fact that I’ve highlighted that you MUST get to Tour stages early – it’s one of the Key Tips of the Cycling Through France guide, we didn’t. And despite my best efforts to the contrary, I again wracked up an extraordinarily high phone bill (disclaimer: Telstra later wrote off the bill).

We cut costs on flights and paid the price. And lastly, I was hugely underprepared for L’Etape.

So let’s look at the mistakes, and highlight what you can do to avoid them to ensure you have a kick-butt trip.

Flights
As we get older, the threshold for getting mucked around and/or slumming it on cheap flights with long layovers into non-hub airports in order to save some money, gets a lot lower. I think I left mine behind in my early 20s.

When we looked to book for 2010 in late 2009, flights were around AUD$2700 into Barcelona or Paris, with no extra baggage. We managed to score an around the world (ATW) fare for around $2300, which gave us 2x23kg all the way ATW as we were flying via the US. A few months before we were due to leave, our fare rules on our Toulouse-Hong Kong leg changed from 2x23kg to 1x20kg (thanks for that, Lufthansa). As I said earlier, we paid the price for being cheaper.

Lesson: Cheaper is NOT always better.

I recommend booking a slightly more flexible fare, and have covered airline options here as well as extensively in the Cycling Through France guide.

The Tour Stage
As I’ve written before, you absolutely MUST get to your vantage point early. Plan for everything to go wrong. Plan for traffic, overly-judicious gendarmes, rain, flat tyres.

You’ve gone to all this effort to get here, and the worst thing you want is to miss the stage, or to be stuck in a crappy spot. Trust me it happens; read my stories here (Stage 13 2009), here (Stage 16 2010) and here (Stage 17 2010).

Other key tips for maximising your TDF experience include:

Be on a steeper uphill to maximise all the free stuff from the caravan. Being on a downhill means you’ll get almost nothing.
Have a back up plan, including a different road/bike route to get you where you need to be.
Ignore gendarmes (walk your bike slowly and innocently up/down the road, staying well off the road) or go around them. My failure to man-up cost me a ripping downhill hairpin in 2010’s stage 16, which looked up and down the road. The photos would have been incredible.
Pack for bad weather (2010 Stage 17). Had I been better prepared (I had a poor quality “wet weather” jacket), I could have been up the road on the Soulor for some epic hairpin photos.
If the weather looks the least bit sketchy, and you have camera gear, have a back up plan and position for photos. Pack a plastic rain bag/hood that covers all of you. There’s nothing worse than standing in the miserable rain, getting wetter and wetter. Plastic hoods/bags don’t look cool, but they work.
Be prepared to walk (take note of point about rain gear). Pack food and water in case you can’t find a place that sells food and water, and prepare to be located in a place with no toilets.
And, the number 1 tip: GET THERE EARLY. You can usually find the expected arrival time of the caravan and the lead group to key areas, which lets you plan. Allow for traffic. This means if your vantage point is up a Col/climb, and you are climbing from the other side that the Tour ascends allow 6 hours. I promise you won’t regret it. Once the caravan is on the climb, you’ll be pulled off the road. If you’re climbing up the same way as the riders, you have a bit more leeway, as you can walk you bike up the road.

L’Etape
L’Etape is a beast of a ride worthy of a TDF Tips guide of it’s own (hint: this is in the works, make sure you subscribe to the mailing list here to get advance warning and discounts), however, I’ll cover what went wrong for me briefly.

Preparation: I was hugely underprepared for the 2010 Etape. I was laid low for several months with an illness, and was unable to train or race. This affected me hugely, and the difference between my 2009 ride and 2010 ride is glaring.

Regardless of my underpreparedness though, the around the world flight did both Mike and I no favours. That long in the air (Mel-Syd/stop 1 hour/LA/stop 7 hours/Frankfurt stop 2 hours/Toulouse) dehydrated us immensely, and we arrived on the ground with about 48 hours to rehydrate and acclimatise. In 2009 we flew in about 10 days before hand so had ample time to build energy and hydrate, get our bodyclocks into the EU time zone, and get some riding into our legs.

I could (and will) write a lengthy guide on preparing for L’Etape properly, but briefly:

Arrive in Europe at least 1 week before L’Etape.
Spend some time riding, drinking loads of water, sleeping and eating properly.
In the 6 months prior to L’Etape, train your bum off. Unless you ride a lot already, you’re going to have spend hours and hours riding, including in the hills.
During the ride, you’ll need to hydrate and feed effectively. Don’t drink too much water (as you dilute the salt in your blood, then start cramping) and eat enough. There’s been a lot written on feeding properly in long races, and I’ll save this for another time.
Make sure you get enough sleep leading up to L’Etape.
Make sure you stretch before L’Etape (and after).

In the forthcoming Guide to L’Etape, I’ll be discussing some training, nutrition and stretching routines specifically designed to help you do L’Etape. Make sure you subscribe to the mailing list here to get advance warning and discounts.

At the Airport
These may be obvious, but:

Get to the airport early, or your bike may get left behind. This happened to us in 2010, but it was fortuitous, as it meant our bikes were shipped all the way to my front door, which made getting to/from the airport in Hong Kong much easier (and cheaper).
Lufthansa (and others) sometimes don’t weigh bike bags (certainly not when you’re late to Toulouse airport). I’m told this is common practise at airports that service the cycling areas.

Some people don’t mind missing flights, but I hate it. You don’t want to be doing 160km/h up the freeway to make the flight. And then find there isn’t a petrol station at the airport. And then get stung 90 Euros for them to refill the tank with 10 litres.

Packing
These are really important, pay attention!

Pack your bike carefully. Read this post on how to pack your bag properly, and this post which discusses a couple of different bike bags.
Pack light! Don’t be like me and have 3 Packing Lists for camera gear, bike gear, casual gear and miscellaneous debris like laptop, chargers, books etc.
Get a helmet pod or bag from Wiggle or a Giro helmet pod from Chain Reaction and take it onto the plane or pack in a hard case.

Mobile Phone
Seriously, read these posts on mobile phone data roaming. They’ll save you a load of money.

What went right?!
So, after all that, what went right?

I had a ball doing L’Etape. Yes it hurt, yes it was a terrible result, but boy was it fun.
Downtime. The last year has been a mental and physical overload, and it was good to ride with a chilled out group of friends, read some books, watch some Tour, eat croissants and get on the bike in the warm French sunshine.
Similar Posts:

Share on Facebook

Avoiding an International Mobile Phone Bill Blowout

Tim M — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 01:29:04 +0000

I wrote a post over on tourdefrancetips.com today about how to avoid an overseas phone bill of $2000.

I’ve reproduced it below, as I think it’s useful for all travellers who are taking their smart (e.g. iPhone) phones.

This post is all about how to avoid a $2000 mobile phone bill
This post just goes to show, despite your best planning to prevent things going wrong, they can, and will. This is the Black Swan event which is a very interesting topic in and of itself.

After the absolute debacle of 2009, where I returned home to an AUD$2200 phone bill (around USD$2000) – read more about that by clicking here – I was determined not to come home to a big phone bill again.

I did a lot of research and wrote a post about the various plans available for our Australian readers.

Since I am on Telstra (for those international readers, Telstra is the ants-pants, rolled-gold mobile phone carrier in Australia. More expensive, but very fast 3G everywhere), I signed on to their $160 for 60MB of overseas data plan. You can read a comparison of the plans here.

I thought that for 2 weeks, 60MB would be plenty of data, given we were staying in one place and had Wifi. Last year, I used around 200M, and was constantly on Twitter and Google Maps.

Before I left, I reset my iPhone data usage stats to 0MB. I turned all my email data push and app push notifications off. This meant data would only be downloaded when I specifically asked an app to do so.

When I got home I’d used 61MB according to my iPhone, so I expected excess usage charges for 1MB.

When I got my bill for AUD$1900, it would be fair to say I was shocked.

My SMS and calls added up to AUD$400 (Note to Telstra: you NEED an international call and sms pack like the one Optus offers), my month-and-a-bio of international roaming was $200, so Telstra was telling me I used $1300 (around USD$1100) of excess data (around 130MB). No way.

When I looked at the bill, the data usage had been reconciled into minutes/seconds, with some calls showing 394 minutes. Clearly something was awry.

I rang Telstra, telling them that I thought the bill was erroneous, and if they couldn’t reconcile the bill into data (bits and bytes, not minutes and seconds), then I clearly couldn’t confirm the accuracy of their bill. They told me this was all they received from the overseas carriers.

Honestly, in the year 2010, telcos, who are at the cutting edge of technology, can’t get their billing systems into the year 2010? Shocking it is.

Happily, Telstra saw the folly of the situation and wrote a significant portion of the bill off. Compare this to Vodafone who operate a global network – at least when I got their bill it was unified and in MB so was clear to see what I was using (Google Maps) and how much time/data I used (unfortunately, Vodafone’s Australian network is average in terms of coverage).

Despite your best intentions to protect yourself, you may still get a hefty bill. So, how do you mitigate this, and what are the lessons here.

Option 1 (good): I highly recommend getting a Vodafone SIM card and adding overseas data roaming if your local Vodafone offers it. For Australians, they offer $200 for 120MB or $329 for 200MB. Get the cheapest monthly SIM you can, about a month before you leave, and add the data component about 1 week before you go. You may have to pay a $300 bond for the roaming (returned to you when you pay you bill). Vodafone’s roaming between countries (Germany->France, France->Spain and so on) is seamless and the benefit is you get a bill that’s likely to be accurate.
Option 2 (best): This is by far the most cost effective option. Go into an SFR (Vodafone France) and get a prepaid SIM; the SIMs usually come with €5-10 of credit for SMS and calls. Get them to add data. It’s not publicised, but they have a product where you can add data for 20 days; the data is unlimited! Be aware that they need to activate the data for that SIM, so make sure you do it all at the one shop at the same time. I can’t stress this enough. Speaking a bit of French will help you a lot (check out Coffee Break French for 80 free lessons).

I like the second option best, as you pre-pay for everything and can get help when you’re there. With unlimited data, you’ll be able to go crazy. Of course, if you want to keep using your home SIM card, take an old phone you can make calls and SMS from.

Similar Posts:

Share on Facebook

France 2010: Final Day – the Aubisque and Marie Blanque

Tim M — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 04:15:35 +0000

Sadly our last day was upon us.

I’d not had anywhere near enough riding so was glad to be heading out for a final long hit out in delightful warm France. I keenly felt the approaching return home as I’d been told it was miserable, cold and wet in Melbourne. Yuck.

We made the plan to hit the Aubisque and Marie Blanque. I wanted to include the Soulor but that didn’t happen for some reason. We rode up to Arrette for a pre-ride coffee, as is the way in this part of France. Very civilised way to start a ride; coffee and croissant.

Pre-ride rest

The day was slightly cloudy, with splashes of sunshine. We rode out through the valley toward the Marie Blanque, but then went the other way before Escot. The peloton did the Escot approach as part of Stage 17.

We wound our way through some hilly roads – some roads of a very poor quality – with little to no traffic.

Rolling hills

It was a delight to just be cycling along with no traffic to speak of, and when a car did go past, it did slowly, and with a wave. Such a nice experience to ride in France, rather than deal with the aggro of Melbourne’s roads.

Approaching Bielle

We eventually found our way to Bielle (scene of the now-famous Oondrew Klook sprint victory) and then headed up through the very pretty Laruns and Eaux Bonnes which is home to some thermal hot springs (Eaux chaudes I think it is, which means, Hot Waters). We passed some people riding in The Freedom Machine kit; a couple of whom didn’t seem to much be in the mood for talking, given the laborious nature of the climb even at this early stage.

I hope their resolve stiffened, as the grade up the road certainly did (from a very gentle 4-6% up to a nasty stretch of 10% plus).

I forgot how tough the Aubisque climb was – we’d stopped halfway up on the way to the summit to watch Stage 16 by an impenetrable wall of gendarme. It is a HC and is a reasonable test. It only reaches around 1700m, but is of a pretty tough grade, particularly after Eaux-Bonnes.

On this day, it was foggy and starting to get chilly.

Michael had taken off just after Eaux-Bonnes, but I’d spent a considerable time keeping him in sight and putting on spurts of speed to reel him in. At one stage, I was only a couple of hundred metres behind.

Eaux Bonnes

He took off again (to my frustration) but I got very, very close to the top; it was good to be able to keep contact after the travails of the last 8 months.

It was pretty cold at the top, and very foggy, so we waited for Amy to catch up to us, took some happy snaps (horses wandering around everywhere), then took off back down.

Summit

Horses

We reeled off some photos for Ex Machina Racing, then stopped in Laruns for coffee.

Looking over Gourette

Gourette ski area

Col de Marie Blanque - Bielle approach

It was sunny and warmer again, and so we headed off for the Marie Blanque, which we were tackling in the reverse direction from the way undertaken for L’Etape.

It’s a fair old climb up the Marie Blanque from the back, but more of a long grind than a very sharp carnage-maker like the side from Escot. We didn’t have any water so had to fill up at a roadside stream. It’s pretty safe to do so in the hills, but I was pretty dubious the quality and was worried about drinking cow-pooh water.

Anyway, when in Rome…

1/3 of the way up - yes, I know that I am looking fairly chubby

1/3 of the way up

Looking out toward Bielle

The plateau about 3/4 of the way up is great for a rest and some photos. It’s an alpen playground; camping, mountain biking, little streams everywhere. The scenery is enhanced by the stern, impassive rocky peaks towering around you; jagged teeth reaching into the clouds. It’s very humbling being surrounded by impressive geology and physiography like this.

Still 6k to go

Near the plateau

We reached the top and stopped again for some pics and then descended like hellcats down the other side – reaching speeds above 80km/h.

The top

We had only about 15km to Arrette, but my legs were starting to feel very, very peaky.

Corn everywhere

After a short final climb above Arrette, we descended down, and rode downhill into Aramits, for the short 10%+ climb back to our accommodation.

We got home and Qty:1 Heineken disappeared stat. A great way to finish the trip, with a day in the Pyrenees.

Performing the Heineken maneouvre

Garmin data, for those interested, is here.

Moving time: 6 hours, 7 mins, Elapsed 7’36″
138km, calories 2592C
Elevation gain 2833m

Summary

Map

Speed, Elevation, Heart (200bpm interference)

Cadence, Temperature

Similar Posts:

Share on Facebook

Gear review: Lowepro CompuRover AW Backpack

Tim M — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 02:08:58 +0000

*Apologies for the sometimes-less-than-optimal photos, I was late for my plane.

With the advent of cheap prosumer digital SLRs, I thought it would be interesting to review my new Lowepro Compurover AW backpack to help you decide upon a backpack to travel with, if you have camera gear to take overseas.

When looking at a backpack, I have a few core requirements:

Carries camera, must travel (and protect said camera).
Needs loads of pockets, appropriate to shooting and travelling.
Excellent ergonomics; straps, and keeps weight low (camera gear kept low on hips).
Laptop pocket, for easy access at airports.

I’ve previously used an fstop Tilopa for this task. Good and bad features include:

Internal Camera Unit (ICU) – makes the bag bulky, but protects your kit.
It has rear access which is awesome for on-location shooting, but the ergonomics are terrible.
It has loads of pockets, but not much spare volume (spare tshirts etc for long haul flights).
No laptop pocket that can be easily accessed.
Distributes some load up high.
Phone/camera pockets on waist straps are great.

Generally I will use the Tilopa on an organised shoot, or if we’re roadside for the Tour and I can put it face down, unzipped with access to lenses etc (I don’t carry two bodies overseas, so need to be able to change lenses).

However, the rear entry is bad for quick access, as you need to take the whole pack off, so you can’t quickly reel off some shots.

Tilopa; front pockets are nice and big

Rear access; protects camera

Top access and pockets; very clever

Travel stuff

So, onto the CompuRover AW. I did a lot of research before buying this bag.

Brand new

I realise it fills a slightly different function to the Tilopa; I think the Tilopa is a bit more appropriate for on-location and transit. I think the Compurover is more of a transit, day pack; more of an all-rounder.

The key features that attracted me were:

Excellent strap system.
Relatively quick access to camera gear.
Distributes load down onto hips.
Dedicated laptop storage.

Below we can see them back to back. Hands down, the CompuRover is has a less bulky profile.

Back to back

The CompuRover has a number of features that I think you will appreciate when travelling or hiking around.
On the exterior there is a pretty deep pocket for necessities you need quick access to; wallet etc.

Internally, there is a clear pencil case/zipped holder which I use for money, USB stick and a spare pen.

Secure pocket

There’s also a dedicated pouch for Compact Flash or CD cards.

For Memory Cards

The camera gear can be access from the front zip, which allows the camera storage to open out of the bag, or from the top inside the main top zip (which would require you not to have anything sitting on top.

In the photo below, I have a Canon 40D, a 70-200 f/4 IS USM L, a 17-55 EF-S f/2.8 IS USM, a 10-20 Sigma and various cables, battery chargers, card readers, lense cleaners etc.

Kit

Although I didn’t take a photo, directly behind the back padding, is a dedicated laptop slot, which can accommodate a 13″ Macbook comfortably, as well as a note book (for written notes) and your travel doco. This made transiting through security that much more pain-free it wasn’t funny.

The only downside to this bag is its storage; as well as my kit, I can fit laptop charge, iPhone charger, 2 spare tshirts, and some other miscellaneous items, 2 books, but not much else.

However, at the end of the day, you want to travel light, and this encourages that.

Overall, this bag is a worthy contender for those of you journeying with camera kit and a laptop.

Note, all Amazon links in this post are Amazon affiliate links.
Similar Posts:

Share on Facebook

2010 TDF: Stage 18 from the road

Tim M — Wed, 04 Aug 2010 02:06:19 +0000

After the let-downs of Stage 16 and Stage 17 (at least in terms of photos, and compared to last year), we headed into Salies-de-Béarn for the start of Stage 18.

We dropped Andrew off at the Pau train station (which by the way has the BEST croissants I have ever had, EVER – read more here – melt-in-your-mouth buttery bliss-bombs!) and headed out of Pau…straight past the hotel housing HTC Columbia and Rabobank. After my poor luck, I couldn’t believe it.

Moreover, Erik Zabel was hanging out. Here’s a photo I got with him (yes, I am looking a very flabby 68kg next to him – too many croissants, clearly).

Tim and Erik

Cycling is awesome like that, you can mingle with the pros and champions.

HTC weaponry

Cycling is a waiting game

I want one

Rogers

I like sepia

Fast gearing for Mr Rogers

Moi

Rogers

I snapped off some photos of the epic machines and we took off chasing the Garmin squad (as the SatNav was all over the shop)…straight into the Quickstep convoy.

Garmin

Smoko

Giddy kids!

Anyway, there’s not much more I can say. We spent the next hour transiting amongst the Tour team buses, team cars adorned with very expensive cycling weaponry, Tour photogs and officials. It was very exciting.

Getting off the Autoroute, we hit major traffic, which afforded me the chance to walk along the buses, reeling off photos, including the one below of the front of the CTT bus. If you look hard (it’s more obvious in the high-res shot), you can see Mr Sastre in the front-left seat.

Sastre and the driver thumbs up

Toll traffic

CTT

Monochrome

We got pulled off the road 6km out of Salies as we were on the official Tour route between towns. We quickly got our bikes out and rolled downhill into what I have to admit is an absolutely beautiful town. We’d also passed through Orthez which has an interesting history.

Another thing I love about France is the marked change in architecture and landscape between small distances. We’d gone from a very Basque area, with a lot of stone buildings – all very old, with history seeping from every crack – to a much more rural area. Lots of corn fields, very hilly terrain and some very nice and large houses perched atop hills surveying the land around them.

Countryside

We followed the Radioshack and BMC buses into town, feeling pretty chuffed with ourselves; ensconced as we were in a Tour de France motorcade. Arriving into the set up point, we locked our bikes up and positioned ourselves right where the riders were going past for sign in. Seeing these guys up close, and going slow, made me feel very, very unfit.

BMC

Bike p0rn for everyone

Cadel's

Crowds were out for Armstrong and Schleck

Oi Oi Oi! (just kidding)

39 yo and still lean and mean. Epic.

Now, you be a good boy today and play nice. Of course mama!

Cycling is a waiting game (did I already say that?)

Sastre says 'cycling has turned into a sissies sport'

'Boy did we smash some vodka last night comrade'...'hahah, Da!'

Wes?

Hincapie

Hushovd

Hincapie again - lean

Horner

Basso

Life's one big joke for one M Lloyd

Robbie

Arveson

Not sure who this is

(Seems important though)

Sorenson = animal for pain

Rogers

The Smiling Attacker Voeckler

Evans

Looks happy, doesn't he

Freire

Now the below photo sits with a funny story. These girls wanted Stuey to pass a message on to someone about something. Now I don’t know what the relationship is, but it sounded funny as – “can you tell Jonno I knocked out a ripping ride this morning?”. Gold.

Gold

Clarky loves it

Ballan

After the excitement of the start, we rolled back out of town and headed home for an afternoon ride.

The weather since L’Etape had been pretty average; mid 20s, but constantly cloudy and drizzling on and off. A big humid Atlantic cell sat over us refusing to budge.

We decided to drive over the Col de la Pierre St Martin into Spain, and ride up the Col. There was some roadwork in Arrette, and I saw none other than the great comedian Billy Connolly. Amazing! He must be doing research for a new bit on French roadworkers.

Billy Connolly

This was a super interesting drive. Toward the top of the Col, the landscape and flora changed dramatically from verdant, lush, thick forest, into more sparsely treed, rocky woodlands. Before the switch, on the French side, cows roamed free, with cowbells on their necks. It was cool driving (and riding, on previous days) along and hearing the dingle of bells high up the hill as they went about their complicated cow lives. We did pass one group who were quite stubborn in moving. I have a very funny iPhone video I’ll put up as we tried to get through. We got close enough that the car nudged them, and that just made them more curious. One came to Mike’s side, pretty sure he was going to hop in for a pat.

Stubborn cows

Up the top, it was like an alien landscape but with weird-looking trees (almost like the cork trees of Portugal). We passed some horses, not sure if they were wild or not.

There were signs warning of bears, and I found out later wolves and vultures also call this desolate place home.

Crossing the border, the roads and road furniture immediately improved materially – the Spanish seem to like looking after their roads a lot more. Interestingly, road signs were adorned in Basque (a truly strange and interesting language), Spanish, French and sometimes English.

I was really happy to be in Basque country; I’ve wanted to get here for a while.

On the way down, we passed a big building which I guess could have been the old border station. Some commandos (or at least military guys) were doing some training; running up the road into the never-never. You don’t see too many machine-gun clad soldiers roaming around in Australia. I got a very blurry iPhone photo.

We drove down to the base, and saddled up. We had to wear arm and leg warmers as it was lucky to be 15 degrees, and very windy.

The ascent was nice enough, a quick tempo was able to be set. Michael took off as I snapped some photos off.

Getting toward the top, the full force of the wind was upon me, as I battled into it – very reminiscent of the wind on the Ventoux. I was very cold, and conscious of my weak immune system (bordering on a cold already).

I pushed on past the border and entered the wooded plains at the top. Very, very eerie. I pulled over for some photos and felt very nervous, given the bear and wolf signs. There was no one around, no wind, and lots of cloud. Very Hitchcockian and Sherlock Holmes and the Hound of the Baskervilles.

Basque language (my bike is such a tart!)

Very strange landscape

The top

Down the road

After we rode down hill, we stopped in Isaba for some food. It felt very strange being in Basque country; everyone was staring at us as we walked through town. I felt lost as I’d come to grips with French over the trip and now had to switch my brain to Espagnol. It all worked out, anyway.

The town was very old, you feel the history in the cobbled streets.

We propped up for some food at a restaurant the guys had been to a few days before. You can read a review here. It was a good way to end the day. We headed home pretty satisfied with the day.

Por favor, come to our banc!

If all of of this sounds awesome and something you have to do, check out the comprehensive Guide to Cycling through France.

Cycling Through France eBook

The definitive guide to cycling in France – save time, money and stress.

Only AUD $19!

Download immediately after purchase

Still not sure this is the right book for you?

Similar Posts:

Share on Facebook

2010 TDF: Stage 17 from the road

Tim M — Tue, 03 Aug 2010 05:18:25 +0000

Well, sometimes you plan and make allowances and things just go wrong.

Our plan this day was to get to the Col du Marie Blanque, the first climb of the stage and only 30km from where we were staying, and a reasonably steep climb. This would allow me to get good photos (due to the grade) as the riders moved past slowly (for them, anyway), then give us time to get home with no stress and watch it on telly over the Soulor and up the Tourmalet.

However, we ended up going to the Soulor as one of the group wanted to ride up the Tourmalet to watch, and the Tourmalet was about 150km from where we’re staying – too far for him to ride a return ride.

It wasn’t that bad a plan as whilst riding L’Etape du Tour this year, I found a cracking spot on the Col du Soulor for photos; a perfect switchback with the separation an old stone retaining wall. It was an absolutely cracking spot.

We left early for the Soulor as the weather set in. Miserable, drizzly rain, just like the 2009 Stage into Colmar. We got to the Soulor but the road was closed (and had been for a couple of days before hand). We found a good spot down the road from the town of Ferriere. Michael and Clarky decided to ride over the Soulor in the rain, to get to the Tourmalet.

Pain is temporary

Our new team kit

Preparing for Armageddon

Over the creek

Away

Up the road

After Andrew and Mike B took off, the rest of us (Amy, Sdot and I) wandered up into Ferrieres. Below are some photos I took. We found a Cave du Fromage, which means, Cellar of the Cheese. We didn’t have a knife, so I sacrificed my CD of my cycling fit.

Cave du Fromage

MacGyver-ing up some cheese cutting

French villages are so nice, it’s one of my favourite things about France. Loads of people grow their own veggies, and the veggie patches make me green with envy.

Veggie patch

Town church

Overexposed, I know, but someone's little garden stream

We found some people from Mondevelo (the people who organise L’Etape) jury-rigging a satellite dish and buvette stand (coffee, tea, wine, food).

Emergency sat dish install

This man is a professional

They cometh

The Soulor is not a delightful romp

Thisaway

People park in the most unlikely spots. I don’t even know how this guy got his car in this spot.

Parked up

The rest of us settled in with some baguettes and cheese which we had bought from up the road. I got absolutely soaked walking about 3km, so was glad to have spare clothes. I was also sort of glad I hadn’t ridden to the Tourmalet as all the camera gear would have gotten wet.

We put 3 of these bad boys away

I ran through our spot and found multiple vantage points. One spot from high on a wall on a bend would be excellent for a wide angle, one shot from across the raging creek would be ripping, and one from up the road.

Atop the wall

Down the road

Across the creek

Down the road

Holty is happy to be here

Due to the foul weather, the caravan had battened down the hatches so the freebies were few and far between. I scored a sought-after Caisse D’Epargne tshirt. It was a bit of a let down though.

There was a real lack of atmosphere as the choppers did not appear out of nowhere, heralding the arrival of the protagonists. Two gendarmes on motorbikes with lights flashing, with a breakaway arriving soon after.

Their arrival surprised me and I only managed to reel off a couple of shots. #timfail.

Lead group

I sprinted up the road, realising I would not have enough time to shoot through the trees across the creek, as the group would not be split up enough.

Sastre appeared, solo (turns out he attacked a crash).

Sastre

I appeared on telly briefly

And then he was gone...

I vastly underestimated the peloton’s speed as they approached and barely managed to get my shots away.

After they’d passed I started looking at my shots, and my heart sank. Normally I’d have enough time to check my settings (even after doing pre-shots to check lighting etc), but due to the closeness and speed of the group I just didn’t have time. Sometime between racing up the road and switching out my lens, I’d knocked the setting from shutter priority to aperture priority but hadn’t checked. The shutter speed dropped from about 1/320th of a second to around 1/30th. I was heart broken. We’d been in such a great position and sooooo close (with my head even appearing on TV as they followed Sastre’s breakaway), but it had all been for nought.

I was utterly gutted.

Sdot loved it.

Here they come...

Contador

Sky

One that wasn't too bad

Anyway, we now had to hightail it down to a town for a TV. The funny thing about France is that there are no obvious signs of life in bars and hotels. We searched two towns until we saw other people going in to a place for the Tour. We bunkered down with a beer and watched the carnage unfold up the Tourmalet, as Andy Schleck battled his guts out to break Contador.

What an epic battle. Clearly Schleck is not far away from a win.

Afterwards, we met the boys in Lourdes. I was a bit bummed I didn’t get to go to the grotto, as my grandfather wanted a vial of the water, but there’s always a next time. The traffic was absolutely horrendous.

Jersey helmets

We got the guys and headed back across the Soulor and Aubisque. The sheer drop off the Aubisque is truly frightening.

The summit of the Aubisque

In any case, I learned some lessons again this year, that I hope you can learn from this. My key tips here are:

Be on an uphill to get more free stuff.
Get to your proposed vantage point 4 hours before the Tour is scheduled to. You can usually find the expected arrival time of the caravan and the lead group to key areas, which lets you plan. This means if your vantage point is up a Col/climb, allow 6 hours. I promise you won’t regret it.
If the weather looks the least bit sketchy, pack rain gear. If you have camera gear, have a back up plan. Pack a plastic rain bag/hood that covers all of you. There’s nothing worse than standing in the miserable rain, getting wetter and wetter.
Have a back up plan including a different route to where you need to be.
Be prepared to walk (take note of point about rain gear). Pack food and water in case you can’t find a place that sells food and water, and prepare to be located in a place with no toilets.
Always choose a steeper part of the climb (~10%+) to ensure the peloton is not bunched, and check your photos after the first two!.

If all of of this sounds awesome and something you have to do, check out the comprehensive Guide to Cycling through France.

Cycling Through France eBook

The definitive guide to cycling in France – save time, money and stress.

Only AUD $19!

Download immediately after purchase

Still not sure this is the right book for you?

Similar Posts:

Share on Facebook

Le Tour 2010: Stage 16 live from the road

Tim M — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 18:34:27 +0000

Stage 16

Well, the irony is impressive.

After I wrote in my Guide to Cycling in France, for Tour stages, where you plan to ride up a mountain, you MUST ride up a few hours before hand.

I also wrote that you can ignore the gendarmerie. Both of these insights proved true yesterday.

After driving over the Col du Marie Blanque, we parked at Bielle, just off the Tour course, and rode the 10km to the base of the Aubisque. I had a strong feeling we’d be stopped up the road but we proceeded anyway.

The climb ascended very nicely for a bit; 5% or so allowed a cracking tempo.

Once we cleared Eaux Bonnes (a beautiful village), it got much much steeper.

We passed a cracking switchback – perfect for photos (link to S17 report) – but decided to keep going. A guy coming down told us the road was closed.

Sure enough, 2 more km up the road, a gendarme pulled us off the road. Luckily, it was at a cafe, with coffee and Le Tour on TV.

We settled in, but then decided we should head down to the hairpin, as our corner was a super high speed descent. Unfortunately it was too late to head down the road, as the gendarme foiled us again. He did go to his car for a bit, which would have given us the chance to make a run for it, but we weren’t all kitted up.

The caravan started rolling through but there was hardly any schwag thrown out at all. The caravanieres were descending like madmen, and I guess it is dangerous to have people hanging out the side of vehicles.

I did manage to score an Francais de Jeux t-shirt though, so all was not lost.

As the sound of choppers got closer, we could eventually see the team cars, way, way up the mountain.

It’s difficult to describe the tension and excitement of the approaching riders. You have to experience it.

It’s madness, and we love it.

Watching the TV, we knew Armstrong was in a break (not a bad feat for a near 40 year old).

We could hear cheers up the mountain and eventually we could see riders whizzing through the trees, back and forward down the descent.

Media rolled through as about 6-10 riders absolutely mach’d past our position. It was tricky to get photos at the speed they were travelling, so I tried panning with a shutter of about 1/320s, and then grab stills on the servo drive at 1/1000s.

As you can see, some worked.

After the very stretched out peloton was past, we quickly mounted our bikes and descended at warp speed, collecting some Tour signage as souvenirs.

The day after next, we go to watch the final day of climbing, from the Marie Blanque. I really wanted to get the riders on a climb with multiple switchbacks, but it is not to be (unless we go to the Soulor, which has a ripping switchback).

Enjoy!

Ascent to the Aubisque

Here we go again :rolleyes:

The View down the back of the Marie Blanque

The view back up the Marie Blanque - descent Stage 17

The view down over Bielle

The view from the start of the Aubisque ascent

The view up the road

Up the road, sapphire water

Up the road, 9km down

What's that Skip? Looks a bit dangereuse?

Frenchmen are lackadaisical

Yours truly

Here they come

Lance

FDJ

On the edge

Omega

Matty Lloyd

Hincapie

Menchov

HTC

Almost over the edge

On the edge

Chartreau

Cars

On the edge

Team Support

Milram

Stragglers

Sdot - team support

Arveson

Petacchi

Stragglers

Cavendish

Stragglers

Papers from the riders' descent

Similar Posts:

Share on Facebook

Sprint Video from Le Tour

Tim M — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 17:14:01 +0000

So, our friend Andrew Clark, who rides under the assumed Dutch name of Oondreuw Klook, won a solo sprint into Bielle yesterday, blasting everyone away in the process.

It was a sight to behold and the excellent commentary (in Dutch) lends a certain extra excellence to Klook’s solo sprint breakaway win.

Similar Posts:

Share on Facebook

L’Etape Du Tour 2010 Report

Tim M — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 07:46:12 +0000

June 2010: Cold, raining Melbourne.

“Boy, I can’t wait to get to France for L’Etape. We should be able to improve on last year’s 1800th position. It’s going to be so warm, with lazy days filled with riding, Le Tour and croissants”.

July 18th, 2010. 5AM.
“Awesome, I can’t wait to see the broken souls on the side of the road.” (Last year up the Ventoux saw hundreds of broken souls lying on the road, or straddling their bikes, heads down – defeated. What they were thinking, only they will know, but I sympathise with them).

Rolling into town with expensive carbon weapons adorning car roofs everywhere dialled the excitement up. After last year we knew what to expect, but it still doesn’t get old. 10,000 people. A Le Tour etape.

Getting Ready

After getting sorted, we started rolling through Pau’s darkened streets. Gendarmerie manned side streets already. Rolling through old French village streets, some cobbled, with hundreds of other cyclists was awesome.

The start of L’Etape is divided into cages of thousands of cyclists. For instance, the first 500 (or so) are off first as there is an elite cadre that actually race L’Etape. Then it’s 500-1500 and so on.

As we rolled through the streets, marshals sent us onward to our cage. It was incredible. A maze of streets as cyclists split off to their start areas. We arrived at ours, about 1/3 of the way from the front.

We had 45 minutes to now wait. Nervous laughter and jokes built as tension and excitement built.

7AM. Le Grand Depart.
Allons y! We’re off. “This is AWESOME.” Smashing through hundreds of people out of Pau. The start was an incredible milieu of hardy souls from across the planet. Sky seemed to have half of the field, each with their own individually-named kit.

We had started at the top of the hill above the Pau train station (Gare de Pau). We rolled down the hill via a couple of switchbacks (which will be fun for Le Tour stagieres). Passing the Gare, we were away!

7.33AM. Climb 1.

Everyone takes off. I intensely focus on keeping my heart rate between 160-166bpm to prevent lactate onset. I am successful in that, but not in losing a couple of minutes to our group on a 400m ascent.

This does not bode well.

I drop like a rock off the back. “This is AWESOME.”

8.10AM. The Col du Marie Blanque.
Ordinarily a short 1000-odd metre climb would prove to be a minor ascent, but I feel bad already. Very, very bad.

Everyone takes off as I obsessively focus on keeping my heart down. Recent experience shows me that my fitness is so poor that if I elevate my heart beyond 178-179, I start wheezing, unable to get oxygen. A bike fit by Brian at Lomo [link] got my saddle up 34mm, and a visit to the excellent Dom at First Place Osteo [link] showed I was keeping my left heel too low through each revolution, which was compressing my right hip up toward my shoulder and creating a rounded/crescent shape to the right, thus causing shoulder issues. He also noticed I was recruiting my chest muscles, which was constricting my breathing.

Of course, remembering to counter all these things, as people pass you, and the angry juice starts flowing through your veins, is very, very hard.

The Marie Blanque is surrounded by verdant forest and is absolutely gorgeous. As a result however, it is extremely steamy. Sweat pours off my head as I battle with muscle fatigue which has cruelly set in much, much too early.

“This is interesting. Hmmmm. Why are my legs not working.”

Wade from CyclingTips taps me on the shoulder, as he cruises up in the big ring, no compacts, and with a malfunctioning pedal. What an animal. I tell him to get it out of the big ring as it’s frankly embarrassing. I mean, who rides around up Cat 1s in the big ring. Shocking. I suddenly feel very small in the world when confronted by all of this.

Wade sticks with me for a bit, until I wave him off.

I finally crest the top, already very uncomfortable. Discomfort is made all the worse by the fact people are spinning past me like I’m standing still.

This is an inauspicious start.

Ouch.

The gang is waiting, and we head off the back. Again, I drop like a stone, as we descend a long way down, and quick.

There are already people crashing on the descent. I am passing many people who had passed me on the way up.

10.30. The Soulor beckons.
We arrive at the bottom and are at the bottom for a mere few kilometres again until the road starts rising to the Col du Soulor.

I am quickly dropped by everyone and I know that’s it for me keeping up with the crew for the day. I whack my SMASHFEST iPod nano playlist on (think: Rise Against, Rage, Tool, Propagandhi, Pennywise etc) then settle in, zone out and try and concentrate on my heart.

All is going swimmingly thus far.

The scenery is spectacular. Given that my hopes of finishing top 500 have been smashed apart, I resign myself to my fate and resolve to enjoy the scenery and get photos and video.

Summit minus 3km, cramp strikes. Right hamstring twinges and pings without warning. I am hamstrung (ha-ha) by the roadside as cyclist after cyclist goes past, sympathy etched on their faces.

I battle on, very, very much conscious of the twinges now, as each time I ramp the speed up and start passing people, BOOM, twinge city, population me. It’s a psychological killer, knowing you have plenty of space left in the heart rate, but your body’s physiological state is so poor, you can’t take advantage of it.

I arrive at the peak, the crew had gone, so I was on my own. I stop for water, and to take the scenery in. Seriously, France has to be the equal-most (Australia equal #1) spectacular country I’ve been to (beats a Canadian winter or spring hands down, as well as NZ, from what I have seen thus far)

I again descended like a madman, keeping my legs loose.

I hit the bottom and barely have time to recollect my scattered senses into some resemblance of logical and rational thinking, when, again, we head uphill.

I grit my teeth and push on.

Approx 2.30PM, approx 20km to go. (Time is a bit loose here, given at this stage I swear there are Smurfs and Fraggles and even Big Bird on the road willing me on. )

We start the ascent into a valley which I’ll freely admit is spectacular. I am riding a nice tempo up the 5% gradient, and passing people. TWANG. My right adductor goes. I know now that I am in very deep trouble (for want of a better word, let’s say I am in deep sh!t). Once the adductor goes, it’s curtains. I have around 20km to go.

We pass through a valley replete with verdant forest, streams of fresh Pyrenean H2O, and with craggy peaks peering at us from distant places (places that I incidentally am pedalling to).

Some more riding and we hit the town at the base of the Tourmalet (Bareges I think?). Crowds line the street, and the road kicks cruelly but irrevocably, UP. My absolute horror climbs are ones where minimum tempo can be set, and/or which go up with no switchbacks or changes in scenery (e.g. Hotham or Alpe D’Huez I can rip up, it appears the Tourmalet, I can not).

Wade again catches me, and nurses me along for about 7km. Thank Wade, you saved my bacon. Having someone there setting a pace pushed me a bit harder.

Approx 3.30PM, and around 10km to go.

Broken souls now begin to litter the roadside as the relentless grade starts to take victim after victim.

Yoda appears on the road. “Do or do not, there is no try, hmmm?” I have cramped several times and still have 10km to go. The cramps are increasing in intensity and frequency and I am becoming extremely frustrated and a bit distressed at having to stop so often and at being unable to ride. I’ve never experienced cramps before on a ride, and it’s starting to get to me. I however resolve myself to the fact that this is to be my fate until the end, and that come hell or come high water, I am beating this mountain.

I continue on, now so hot that I am passing onlookers who are heaping water from mountain streams onto everyone’s heads. Many people are at the Tourmalet for the tour stages in several days time. They are a big part of the tour, and, a big part of the Etape. My thanks goes to each and every spectator willing us on (no props to the Brits camped up about 7k from the top with a keg of beer – bastards!).

I come around the last bend before the final 4km ascent which winds its way ever so slowly up the summit. The worst part is you can see what’s ahead and it is not pretty. In fact, it’s incredibly ugly. 35 degrees. Hot, sticky roads.

I happen upon Morgan, one of our crew, who has stopped due to heat exhaustion. The gendarme has called an ambulance, so I leave her my phone so we can call her later and keep going.

There are 4km to go. This will prove to be the toughest ride of my life thus far. It is at this point that thoughts of stopping and walking, or stopping altogether enter my mind.

This is my brain trying to convince me my body has had enough. I tell my brain that failure is not an option and press on. My brain quietens.

There are 3km to go.

I am starting to feel quite ill. I am having to ride in an extremely compromised manner to compensate for the cramps and it causing extreme stress on my body which is starting to break down (I’m looking at you, Mr Glute!).

There is evidence of people’s physical sickness on the road.

As the Hoff says, “this, is a mess.”

This is carnage.

There are 2km to go.

It is at this point my right adductor goes again, but, unlike the last cramps, I cannot relieve it. An older French spectator comes over, and asks if I have a cramp. He goes to work on my leg, rubbing it in a way I’d have thought would not be effective. Cramp gone.

I mount the bike and go.

I start reeling people in as my heart ramps up and my legs respond.

Snap, my right hamstring goes, a cruel 1km from the top. I ignore it, and resolve to a final kilometre up off the seat, pedalling like a straight-legged lunatic robot, mashing up the mountain.

There is 1km to go.

I am not stopping now, and force my muscles to do what I need to get me home. Things are desperate.

The cramp dissipates and I sit down and spin up into the last 100m, hundreds of people lining the road.

Approx 4.30PM. Le Sommet du Tourmalet.
My face takes on a stony, impassive look (think Menchov) as I limp over the line, a long, long, long way behind where I expected to be.

I finally arrive at the summit deep, deep in the red. A sense of relief and accomplishment washes over me. I’m incredibly, incredibly disappointed but with all that I’ve been through with my thyroid and heart, I’ll take it.

In any case, it’s excellent training for the Melbourne-Warnie >:)

I atop briefly to take in the magnificent vistas.

I roll down to La Mongie to collect my medal. I find the guys and word Matt (MOrgan’s fiance – congrats guys for getting engaged on the trip, on the top of a Col no less) up on what’s happening.

“Guys, that was AWESOME, I can’t wait to do it next year.”

(Cruelly, the organisers put the food hall at the top of another small climb).

Stopped up for pizza at the bottom.

My thanks go out to the following people.

Kate F: you are amazing, and every guy should be so lucky.
Mike, Clarky, Matt, Morgan: for waiting for me and nursing me along.
Sdot: for the awesome team support, and driving us all home.
Wade: thanks for nursing me along Wade, you’re a gentleman and all-round nice guy.

In case you are interested, here are my Garmin stats.

The link is here.

Critically, I lost about 90 minutes of time due to cramps. 90 minutes. That time puts me in the top 1500, rather than 3200th or so.

Wrap up.
About 3000 people abandoned L’Etape (~30%), which shows you how hard it was.Many people including me were way, way under or illprepared. I’m torn between a sense of accomplishment for finishing it, and a huge sense of disappointment for the poor showing relative to last year (though it must be said, I was in peak physical condition last year).

I wouldn’t swap the experience for quits. If you love cycling, I honestly believe everyone should try L’Etape.

It’s almost impossible to describe the excitement of smashing through French village streets with thousands of people yelling “Allez! Allez! Bravo! C’est bien!”.

Do it, you’ll not regret it.

Tips

Don’t fly in too close to L’Etape. Give yourself a week. Seriously. Planes are horribly dehydrating.
Don’t fly via the States. Folly. We flew for 40 hours so we could get 2 x 23kg. Not worth it. Cheap is not always best.
If you drink a lot of water, take loads of the right type of hydration on board, often (thanks for the tip Wade).
Don’t go out too hard.

If all this strikes you as something you want to do, check out the Cycling Through France guide, which covers everything you need to know about planning a trip to France.Similar Posts:

Share on Facebook