TGS Raid Pyrénéen - Day 1: Cerbère to Ax-les-Thermes

Distance / Ascent – 193km / 4221m

Cols – Col du Pere Cornere (69m), Col de las Portas (77m), Col de Ternere (240m), Col Saint Pierre (240m), Col de la Quillane (1714m), Col de Trabesses (1920m), Port de Pailhères (2001m)

Checkpoints – Cerbère, Prades

GPS file – http://ridewithgps.com/routes/5484284

Flat, flat...Up!

The first day of a trip like this is always a bit of a shock to the system and waking up at 6am is never much fun (especially when time zones mean it's really 5am). Today was no different. We woke with a sense of apprehension, as we all knew that it was going to be a long day in saddle!

A consequence of completing the ride within 100 hours and across five days riding is that Day 1 is always going to be the biggest day of the trip (and mainly uphill, as you approached the Pyrenean foothills, for good measure). And so it was, Day 1 was the biggest of the five both in terms of distance (193km) and ascent (RidewithGPS was spitting out 4222m, slightly on the high side as it turned out). The first major climb of the trip, the hors catégorie Port de Pailhères, coming at the very end of the day. People were right to be worried.

#kitgrid

After making one of the most important decisions of the day – deciding what kit to wear – we headed down for a big breakfast and some final bike tinkering before getting the first stamp in our carnet (or in Gibson’s case a receipt – having already contrived to have lost his card before even setting off).

Bike faff

There was some gaming of our start time – a later start on Day 1 meant more time to arrive in Hendaye on Day 5 but also arriving potentially quite late in Ax-les-Thermes at the end of Day 1. With a mixed ability group there was some balancing to be done here and we eventually ended up rolling out a little before 8.30am.

Control 1

Looking at the profile at the top of this post we had convinced ourselves that the hard work wouldn't really start until approx. kilometre 80 and the first part of the day would be a flat roll-out towards the Pyrenean foothills. It was, therefore, a little bit of a shock to go straight into a climb as we left Cerbere and then to head up and down the hilly coastal road. Fabulous views, but a little tough on the legs so early in the day.

Into the mountains...

It wasn't long however before we found some respite on (false) flat roads as we motored as a group towards our first planned stop in Prades – a chance to refuel and get our second stamp of the trip.

Control 2

Style!

In keeping with TGS food stops, there was a fair amount of faffing and a healthy amount of junk food (several pizzas, bowls of fries and cans of coke) thrown into the mix as we took over a local cafe to the bemusement of the locals.

The faffing and the second round of drinks/food (and Paddy 'losing' his gloves in his jersey pocket) were probably a unconscious delaying tactic as Prades really did sit at the base of the Pyrenees and the 'real' beginning of the trip. The gentle false flat roads would quickly be replaced with a long drag up to Mont Louis and the Col de la Quillane.

Having set off together from Prades the slowly ramping climb to Mont Louis was soon upon us and the group, weighed down with doughy pizza, began to fracture. Will, Gibson, Hankey and I were towards the front tapping out a good rhythm as we pulled away from the rest.

As the road started to ramp up even more, so did the temperature. Soon we were riding on wide roads under the baking midday heat, as the tree cover retreated from us. I found myself riding, chatting with Hankey as we continued to keep a good pace and left Will and Gibson slightly further back on the road.

As we chatted Hankey dropped back to let some traffic pass. After a few minutes I turned round; she was gone – something not lost on Will as him and Gibson caught her a short while later. Hankey would continue to push herself just a little too much for the rest of the week, gradually, bit by bit taking herself down both physically and mentally…

As I continued alone, the heat intensifying, the road surface worsened. My bike bounced along the striated concrete road surface, gravel flicking up everywhere. The heat so oppressive and the road so boring now that with my head down, focussing on the patch of road five yards in from of me only, I almost took myself out as I clattered into a roadworks sign!

As the climb shallowed and came towards its end I passed through the tourist site of Mont Louis and on towards Col de la Quillane – our agreed lunch stop off point. Unbeknown to me I had passed Steve, who had been waiting at Mont Louis, on my way through. Arriving at Col de la Quillane to find nothing, not even a mountain refuge shack, I continued down the other side of the climb and on towards the next town.

Hearing my phone ring, I stopped to check my voicemeail and found that everyone had stopped in Mont Louis for lunch…! Faced with the prospect of heading back up the hill to meet them I decided to wait it out in the main square of the small town of Formigeurres.

Wait it out I did, for two whole hours, before Will, Gibson and Hankey finally arrived and we descended down the base of Port de Pailhères together.

The first challenge of the trip.... #baaw

Lots of yellow that should be red.....

I have fond memories of my first climb up Port de Pailhères in 2010 – rain, electrical storms, hail stone,s the sixe of sugar cubes hiding in a ditch, Phil getting knocked off his bike by a cow, but mainly just the rugged beauty of the road and climb. We had actually included the Port de Pailhères as an ‘additional extra’ to avoid spending the whole day on busy main roads (and to trim some distance off the day) and I was glad we did despite it being a brute of a climb. It really is the archetypical Pyrenean climb – varying and inconsistent gradient, narrow roads, rugged landscapes and sheep and cows roaming free across the roads. Climbing at my own pace, I eventually found myself alone on the road with the sheep.

Out of my way sheep!

I hit the top as the light began fading and took in the great views briefly before heading down on a fast and exhilarating descent.

Up, Up, UP!

19km to go #baaw

As I dropped like a stone down the side of the mountain, suddenly I couldn’t steer my bike. My front tyre had burst and my front wheel had no traction at all. I hit the brakes hard as I dared and slowed across the road and into the grass verge.

Quickly replacing the inner tube I was on my way again and shortly arrived at the hotel in Ax-les-Thermes just in time for dinner (having received an email from the hotelier – concerned that we were not going to turn up).

Over the next hour and a half the rest of the group rolled in, exhausted but buoyed by the day’s achievements!

Dinner was literally (in its newly ordained meaning) hovered up before we all retired to our rooms for the evening.

TGS Raid Pyrénéen - Day 0: Spanish warm-up

This year's annual TGS cycling trip was a break from the norm.

Unlike previous trips, we wouldn't be basing ourselves in one location and completing a series of out-and-backs or loops (or not as has been the case), returning each day to the comfort of a familiar hotel, rather we would be going point-to-point as we traversed the length of the Pyrenees between Cerbère on the Mediterranean coast and Hendaye on the Atlantic (ultimately ending up in Biarritz for a celebratory blow-out).

We were taking on the challenge of completing the Raid Pyrénéen – a 720 km route passing over 18+ cols to be completed in under 100 hours – and we had each contacted the Cyclo-Club Béarnais to obtain our official  "carnet", which we would get stamped at various control points (cafés or shops) along the route.

For many (read most) of the group the sheer volume (distance and ascent) of cycling, on back-to-back days, was something that they had not, or had the inclination to, undertake before. The levels of training reflected this and the group turned up at the Stansted Airport looking leaner and more prepared than ever before.

A set of kit for every day, naturally

Our departure from Stansted to Perpignan was at an uncharacteristically sociable hour for a sports trip and I even had time to spend the morning with Vicky and Edie (I would be leaving poor Vicky with our gorgeous 8 week old daughter for the duration of the 6 day trip – a very understanding wife – and I would miss them terribly) before driving to the airport. After an uneventful flight (with all bikes safely loaded onto the plane) we soon had a fab view of the beach/Mediterranean that we would be so briefly staying with and the foothills of the mountains we would soon be meeting.

More 'energy' than a man could need (and a slight OCD tendency)

On arriving in Cerbère we met up with Steve, who would be driving our support vehicle for the duration of the trip, and quickly put together our bikes to head out for a short test ride.

I am pretty sure the test ride was at Steve's suggestion as, having seen our woeful attempts to put together our bikes and the clear variation of ability levels in the group, he was no doubt slightly concerned about how long he would be out on the road with us for the next five days.

Thankfully our short climb up to the Spanish border did something at least to convince Steve that we could, in fact, ride bikes and that we were not complete jokers. Or he was simply too polite to say anything.

Cerbère - not much going on!

A huge carb loading dinner at our hotel (to compliment the pizzas we had snaffled an hour prior whilst building our bikes), was followed by a quick dip in the Med before we all headed to bed to get some much needed sleep.

Day 1 would be a big day (the longest) and storms were being predicted.

3 for 30: Club des Cinglés du Mont-Ventoux

Not wanting my twenties to draw to a close with a whimper or (as arguably a large portion of them had been spent) in a drunken haze I had decided that I would do something different to mark the occasion. It won't surprise you to know that it didn't take long for me to decide that this would involve some sort of cycling challenge.

The Club des Cinglés du Mont-Ventoux was created in 1988 to, and I quote, "show that every cyclist normally trained can climb in the same day on the Giant of Provence; by the three main roads, without too much hard work". To climb Ventoux, a mountain with a fierce reputation, three times in one day was certainly a worthy challenge – to suggest that it could be done without too much hard work was more than optimistic! 4443 meters of climbing in 136km was going to require at least some graft.

Three ascents. One for each decade. There was a nice symmetry there somehow. I had found my challenge.

Challenge found, the next task was to convince others that this was a worthwhile endeavor notwithstanding the lack of gerascophobia. Luckily the prospect of a weekend in Provence was enough to convince Paddy and Jared that it would be worth the trip.

Flights booked, registration fees paid and route cards at the ready we (along with our better halves) headed off to the small town of Callois where Paddy's girlfriend, Kate, had a gorgeous summer home. Quite apart from the cycling we had a weekend of great wine, food and company to look forward to.

The pad for the weekend...

Saturday saw us bask in the sun, eat well, but hold back on the drink as we prepared for an unconscionably early Sunday morning rise.

Uzes market - Olives everywhere...

To Ventoux

In my sleepy haze I couldn't tell whether it was my pre-sunrise alarm that woke me or the cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning outside my window. Where had yesterday's glorious sunshine gone?!

I had assumed that it was hammering it down outside also. I could hear the rain after all. To some degree of relief however, it was dry and the sound of water falling had just been the fountain in the courtyard.

We had loaded up the car with our bikes and kit the night before and after a strong coffee and some good porridge (Jared opting for some sort of weird concoction he had cultivated overnight) we were in the car and setting off for Bédoin and the base of Ventoux.

It wasn't long before we were driving, in the pitch black, through what can only really be described as an epic lightening storm. Visibility was as good as zero and, given the conditions, Paddy did well to keep the car on the road.

Visibility

There was a palpable sense of foreboding as we sat in silence in the car. This was beginning to feel less and less like a good idea.

Some level of relief was restored when, upon arriving in Bédoin, the rain had eased off and practically stopped. Perhaps it would hold for the whole day.

After the usual level of bike related faffing and a quick kit change in the car park's public toilets we cycled off to the first bar we could find (and that was open at that time of the morning) for the first of what we hoped would be a full set of 'control' stamps for the day.

And so it begins....

The first third of the day was about to begin.

From Bédoin to Maulecene

Of the three routes we would be taking up to the summit, it is the ascension starting in Bédoin that is considered the 'classic'. This is 22.7km long and averages 7.1%. On paper alone this is a challenge but as the profile shows, a gentle start means double-digit gradients await.

After a gentle start it soon starts living up to it's billing as the Giant of Provence

As we headed out of town the road began to rise gradually, more of an approach to the mountain than the climb itself. The road had yet to turn truly upwards before the rain had started again.

It wasn't long before it was torrential and as we cycled onwards, hoping it would abate and that we wouldn't need to add extra layers, we were receiving quizzical (horrified? pitying?) looks from passing motorists. One local slowed, rolled down his window and started talking to us in French – my French is broken at best, but it was clear that he was intimating that we were evidently crazy people. He drove off, occasionally glancing in his rear-view mirror as if to just check he had actually seen us.

I think it is fair to say that we were probably the only cyclists on the mountain at this stage!

Soon we had passed the small village of Saint Estève and had entered the shade of the oak and pine forest – and the toughest part of the climb. Whilst the we had hoped the tree canopies, that usually keep the heat in on a hot day (turning it into a furnace), would offer some protection from the rain, the rain only got heavier. Debris was all over the road, from broken branches to rubble and scree that had been washed down the side of the mountain.

The contrast to my last ascent in July couldn't have been more stark.

Eventually, we gave in to the inevitable and stopped to layer up as much as we could (and to compose ourselves).

No sooner were we back on the move again, than a full blown thunder and lightning storm rolled directly overhead. At this stage, our recently donned rain jackets doing little to prevent us from being soaked through and with the prospect of many more hours in the saddle we were already beginning to question our sanity. Why were we doing this? Were we here, on the side of a monster, for fun?

We continued to turn the peddles, slowly crawling up the mountainside. Silence, not a word spoken between the three of us, as we descended deeper into our own thoughts.

After what seemed to be an age, Chalet Reynard came into sight offering a (all too short) flat respite and the lure of shelter. We decided to take a brief pause to see if we could add more layers and take on some food. The restaurant wasn't open so we huddled under an awning as we chomped down some calories, rubbing the blood back into our extremities.

By now the storm was in full swing and as we pushed upwards into the moonscape we found ourselves above the lightning as it cracked below us.

Three abreast across the road, the lightning striking so close now, and our bodies so cold, that you could feel the warmth on the side of your face. A quite disconcerting feeling when you're so exposed on the mountain top, and on a metal bike no less! Paddy and Jared, I am sure, took some comfort from the fact that if we were in danger of being struck down, I was the most likely victim.

An artist impression

Finally, we passed the Simpson memorial and the cruelly inaccurate final 1km marker before rising out of the saddle at the final hairpin for the last steep incline to the observatory building and the summit.

The view from the top is impressive, I know this as I have seen it before. I question whether there was even one to see as we paused briefly; I am not sure I can remember even looking.

To add to our woes the shop at the very summit (our opportunity to get our route cards stamped) was closed, so, with no lack of reluctance, we ventured back down the few hundred meters to the mercifully open Brasserie le Vendran and took refuge inside.

The apocalyptic skies move temporarily away...

Absolutely soaked through and dripping everywhere, questioning what we were doing and (I am sure we all thought this internally) if we were even going to keep going, we stayed for what seemed like an age. Unsurprisingly, the suggestion of a second round of coffees/hot chocolates was meet with universal approval as we eked out every moment of warmth we could.

Finally we decided that we needed to move out and make an attempt at descending to Maulecene, the start point of our next ascent. After much wringing of gloves and hats, to little avail, we set off back up the final bit of the first ascent only a little warmer and dry than the first time.

I am not sure I can recall ever being as cold on a bike before (perhaps Wuling Peak?). As we carefully began our descent, in the interminable rain and with rivers flowing down the road, my body was shaking so violently that at times thought I would lose control of the bike.

Our descent...

I reached the small cafe a few kilometres down and stopped to wait for Paddy and Jared to make sure everyone was still upright.... Paddy arrived quickly, but Jared was a long way back and we began to worry. I even started to cycle back up and around the corner to see if I could see him. I have no idea what Jared had been doing but he rolled past me going the other way trying to force a smile. We were off again.

If I am honest I can't remember much more of the descent beyond simply wanting it to end. Selective memory perhaps. On arriving in Maulecene I don’t think I have ever seen someone look so unhappy/distressed as Mr. Hoy. Not a happy man.

From Maulecene to Sault

After having our cards stamped in the bike shop in Maulecene we made a relatively quick about turn and headed straight back up the descent we had just suffered down.

It was still raining, but at this stage it was beginning to ease off slightly and it was good to be climbing again, our bodies generating some heat. The uncontrollable shivering was beginning to disappear.

When questioned before the trip I had described this climb as 'easier than the Bédoin one' and I stand by that. It's perhaps just not quite as 'easier' as I had told the other two.

'Less relentless' - sort of....

The climb is much more varied, and whilst there are steep sections (in fact at many points steeper than the more traditional Bédoin climb) there are also periods of respite where the pitch of the road eases off just enough for you to recover before the leg presses began again. When I said 'easier', what I should have said perhaps was 'less relentless'.

Things were looking up though and it wasn't too long before the rain had stopped and the sun began its battle to break through the clouds. The trauma of the first ascent and descent were becoming (distant) memories.

As we climbed, it became clear that there was a very strong correlation between the 'less relentless' sections of the climb and Jared's need to stop for food and drink. I would be lying if I didn't admit that the brief pauses were a welcome opportunity to catch our breath and they, of course, afforded us the opportunity to learn a lot about some of Jared's more interesting views on nutritional strategies.

Soon the famous observatory building was back in sight and spurred on by the knowledge that our planned lunch stop was within our sodden grasps we pushed for the last few kilometres before hitting the top to clear(er) skies and even some sunshine. We took the opportunity to regroup and take in the views. Even pausing to take a few pictures.

At the top, again.

alt. 1911m

We had reached a key point in the day, in any day on the bike really, lunch. It was just a short descent back down to Chalet Raynard – food, warmth and a last chance to rest before the final third of the day.

Lunch at last!

From Chalet Raynard we branched left and took the road down to Sault. The descent was the longest of the day, meaning the last climb would also be the longest – but the road was shallow and smooth – it would, hopefully, be a nice final ascent that awaited us when we turned back at the bottom. For the first time in hours the sun was out and we were beginning to warm up and dry off.

Finally a small rise took us into the town of Sault and our last control stamp for the day.

From Sault to Bédoin

The longest of the ascents was also, mercifully at this stage of the day, the shallowest. There is even a section of almost 8km in the middle where it is as good as flat (1-3% gradient).

Big Ring-able!

We climbed together chatting as we took in typical Provence panoramas, made that much better for the sunshine they now found themselves in. There may have been fields of lavender, it certainly felt like there should have been.

On hitting the above mentioned 'flat' section, and repeating awesomeness last seenon the Stelvio, I pushed the chain up onto the big ring and shouted out "I am climbing Ventoux in the BIG RING" before stamping on the pedals for a few hundred meters, sitting back down, dropping the chain into the small ring and then weaving over the road as I caught my breath. Another HC mountain climbed in the big ring – it's all a bit too easy.

What Ventoux gives with one hand though, it takes away with the other and the 'flat' section soon came to an abrupt end as we hit Chalet Raynard again and the final 6km of climbing. The section of road where we had almost been fried earlier that morning.

By this stage there were more cyclists on the road (one assumed that they had sensibly waited until the morning's storm had passed) and Paddy and I caught one loaded up with kilos upon kilos of panniers and bags. I am sure there was a gas stove on there somewhere too.

Must. Overtake.

We engaged in conversation and learnt that he was cycling to Italy.... from Rotherham. I am sure he could have found a route that didn't require him to cycle up Venotux and then risk his life descending on a overloaded tank of a bike. Still he must have been doing something right as Jared never managed to catch him.

The final 500m...

Then, suddenly, we had reached the final summit of the day.

We stopped only briefly for a quick team photo, the visibility by this stage back to being zero. Then, not wanting to be caught out again by the weather we quickly remounted and started one final, fast, joyous descent.

Group hug!

We flew back past Chalet Raynard and entered the forest, much of the debris and mess now washed or swept away, daring ourselves to not touch the brakes as we gained speed and carved our way down the mountainside.

As we finally rolled into Bédoin, we took a moment to savor the day's achievements before diving back into the car as the more rain neatly book-ended the day.

To Callois

The car journey home after the ride is perhaps of little interest, other than to note we got lost. Several times. Circling some unknown and uninspiring French town for a good 15 to 30 minutes.

The day was rounded out back at Kate's with more great cooking, champagne, wine and a healthy dose of hyperbole as we recounted the day's events.

Boom!

Bubbles!

We hadn't broken any speed records, but it was another great day on the bike and a thirtieth birthday to remember!

Graduate number 5930 

TL;DR

We cycled up Ventoux three times for my thirtieth birthday. It rained quite a lot, but in the end we still had fun!

The ride into Paris (Stage 21 TdF, Versailles > Paris Champs-Élysées, 133.5km (but not really))

Finally it was here, the last day of the Tour.

For many it was a day of mixed emotions - glad that the physical and mental exertions were coming to a close, but at the same time not wanting the journey to end or the all consuming 'bubble' to burst.

The last stage of the Tour of course would finish on the streets of Paris. Unfortunately for us Annecy, as beautiful as it is, is rather a long way from Paris... This meant the day started extraordinarily early, with a coach picking us up at 5am for our six hour transfer to our start point just outside of Paris. It was a pretty quiet coach journey. People catching as much sleep as they could.

Given that it was Bastille Day and large sections of central Paris would be closed off, including the Champs-Élysées itself, our route for the day had been slightly shortened (we wouldn't be doing the traditional laps around central Paris either) and would end at another iconic Paris landmark, the Eiffel Tower.

The shorter route was ideal for all the friends and family that wanted to show their support and ride a stage themselves. A large number of Linklaters riders/supporters made the trip out including Vicky, Nic, Caroline and even Dan's seven year old nephew, Ben, and his elderly father, Peter.

The Pros have arrive... (although note the non-cycling specific sunglasses)

Today was also only the second time I had seen Vicky in the past two months(!) and I had been looking forward to it for the whole of the preceding week.

Our meeting point (and starting point for the ride) wasn't the Palace of Versailles as for the pros, but a goat farm (really!) on the outskirts of Paris. It is seemingly quite difficult to find somewhere in (or even near) Paris that can feed a 100+ people and house all their bikes on Bastille Day.

Mark T getting to know the locals a little too well

The 'day trippers' had been at the goat farm for some time waiting for us to arrive and, after some brief hellos/reunions, set off before the rest of us, with the expectation that we would either catch the majority of them on the road or arrive at the day's only feed stop in Versailles at around the same time.

Being a goats farm, the lunch that was laid on for us consisted almost entirely of various types of goats cheese. Delicious, but hardly cycling fuel.

The first half of the ride passed through some lovely rolling countryside and even included a few climbs with switchbacks (17 switchbacks on one of them I am reliably informed), nothing too challenging and well within the capabilities of our extended party for the day.

It wasn't too long before we rolled into the first feed stop, just outside the Palace of Versailles, where we had taken over a huge area and general chaos was ensuing. It was here that we caught Vicky, Nic and Caroline and after waiting for the entire Hong Kong crew to regroup (and everyone else to leave) we set off into Paris together.

Feeding frenzy in Versailles

Team HK, fed and watered

At this point the roads started to get busier and it wasn't too long before traffic, traffic lights and a (wall of a) climb split to group. Vicky and I were separated and rode the rest of the way together, chatting and catching up.

We were soon directed through a barrier and onto a closed road leading towards the Eiffel Tower. A concert was being held there later that evening and we had the place, essentially, to ourselves.



Team HK; TdF done. Questionable framing....

Paris! Boom!

Much congratulating, hugging, shaking hands, kissing, photographing and posing ensued as everyone, from the Lifers through to those who had just ridden one or two stages, soaked up the atmosphere and sense of achievement.

Once the photo shoot had wrapped, the Linklaters group headed to a nearby cafe/bar and enjoyed a few beers in the sun whilst watching the world go by.

The day was rounded out by a party on the top floor of the Montparnasse Tower with its commanding views over all the major landmarks of Paris. Prime position for the Bastille Day fireworks with the Eiffel Tower as a backdrop. Impressive stuff...

And so, as the party continued into the night, another Tour de Force drew to a conclusion; another great experience with more unforgettable memories!

Look out for a Restrospective sometime soon....

Amazing, Awesome, Alps – The Alpine Triple (Stage 20 TdF, Annecy > Annecy-Semnoz, 125km)

These blogs are getting pretty boring to write. I am running out of superlatives to describe the scenery that we have been treated to each and every day. The hills in and around Lac d’Annecy were no different. Exceptional, yet again!

After a massive day previously the shorter distance for this stage, just 125km, was welcome news. Just 125km…. easy. Well if the distance was easy, that was the only easy thing about the day. We would still be climbing in excess of 3,500m, ending the day on a tough HC climb.

Rumours that Janice has received a little more than just saline solution the night before were confirmed when she arrived at breakfast, fully lycra’d and ready for the days stage. Unfortunately the previous nights doping didn’t boost Pt and Janice’s navigation skills and they spent much of the early part of the day lost.

A short transfer took us to the shores of Lac d’Annecy where, due to the early hour of our departure, we were treated to sunrise over the lake. More superlatives.

Setting off in the morning light

It wasn’t long before we left the flat shores and were tackling a Cat 2 and a couple of Cat 3 climbs. Up and down all the way, the pace was yo-yoing as there were a lot of leaden legs in the peloton from the day before.

The first feed stop was a very relaxed affair, departure times slowed significantly by the availability of good coffee from a road side café. As we chilled and took a welcome caffeine hit, Baggy snuck off stealing almost 30 minutes on everyone else and Pt and Janice cycled in circles somewhere in the French countryside.

Yet another cafe stop!

Immediately after our refuel we were straight up again, rising over a short Cat 3 climb before a fast descent into Saint-Jean-D’Arvey. From here it was 17km up to Mont Revard, not a steep incline, averaging 5-6%, but certainly an interminable drag. For all that the road was boring the views over Lac du Bourget and Aix-les-Bains we were treated to were spectacular. Many more superlatives.

Our feed stop and the road leading into the descent were not quite at the top of Mont Revard and we had been told it was 400m up a side road to the top. Given the views we had seen as we climbed to the feed it was definitely worth taking the small diversion even though it turned out to be more like an additional 1.5km of climbing!

Boring, rubbish views over Lac du Bourget and Aix-les-Bains

Another great descent was followed by a short drag as we traversed across the valley. Alpine scenery – lakes, cottages, mountains, foothills, cows with bells – all around.

Soon we were at the base of the last climb of the Tour. On reaching the summit all the hard work would have been done; just a glory ride into Paris to follow. For the Lifers it would be an emotional milestone.

The climb started (in reality) with 15km to go, rather than the advertised 11km. The additional 4km of climbing were not exactly welcome and I was heard cursing not so quietly under my breathe. A, barely noticeable, dip took us to the 11km road marker and the official start of the Annecy-Semnoz climb – a final HC climb

Luke and I rode together (managing to shake off some annoying old woman that insisted on riding 10 metres ahead of us for some time) as we tackled the first 4km of the climb. We had been told to expect these to be tough, hovering around 10%, but that the remaining kilometres would ‘level off’.

The 'levelling off’ never came. At every kilometre marker we passed we were expecting to see a 6% or even a 7%, but were instead greeted, almost without fail, with a 9%. The climb was unrelenting. We cursed. Its only saving grace the fact that once it was done there would be no more climbing for this year’s Tour.

As we got to within 200m of the top we passed a mountain top café with riders that had finished ahead of us quaffing beers and cheering on every finisher. Spotting Baggy just up the road I jumped out of the saddle and, for a bit of sport, sprinted him to the line – calling the victory for myself as I narrowly crept past him (although there may be differing accounts of this…).

All the climbing done! I did half expect this sign to say "9%"

After taking in the view at the summit I headed back down to the café and joined the beer and the cheering.

Janice and Pt arrived (in that order…), having completed the three toughest days cycling I am sure they will ever want to do, relieved and exhausted. Pt was sporting arm warmers despite the burning heat of the day – choosing to boil alive rather than burn his un-suntan lotioned skin. Janice could barely walk.

Once the last of the Linklaters group were in (i.e the last man of the day) we headed back down the climb for one of the best descents of the whole trip – mixing fast and sweeping corners with some technical hairpins and turns. Totally brilliant as we dropped like stones down the side of the mountain back to our hotel (or more correctly, motel) on the banks of the Lac d’Annecy.