While we drove to Chartres, Gwen sat in the back of the van and prepared her Tourmalet blog for publicationSunday, May 29, 2011
My Favorite Blogger Will Blog From Anywhere
While we drove to Chartres, Gwen sat in the back of the van and prepared her Tourmalet blog for publication
Stage 19 - Bordeaux to Pauillac by Dale
Yesterday was the final race day of the Tour, a 33 mile race from Bordeaux up north to Pauillac, a long flat run through industrial areas of Bordeaux and straddling the narrow strip of land between the Atlantic Ocean to the west and the Gironde, a waterway extending to the south of Bordeaux and meeting up with the Atlantic north of Pauillac. We had been considering for a number of days if this Stage was worth bicycling. Our Google Earth run of the stage indicated a general lack of scenic interest. The distance was short. And, Gwen and Fran would have to pick us up at the end and bring us back to Bordeaux, since there are no bridges crossing the Gironde north of Bordeaux. The trek to our next stop, Chartres was a long one, longer, we discovered, yesterday morning, than we had anticipated - 250 miles. A very long drive on French roads. So...we decided to forego this stage and head for Chartres. Our Garmin told us we could not expect to arrive until 4pm under the best of circumstances. I wanted to see Chartres. My instincts in choosing this city for our final stop before Paris proved to be excellent. If Sisteron was our jewel of the southeast of France Chartres would prove to be our jewel city of the remainder of the trip.
Why Chartres? Both Gwen and I had read Ken Follett's book, Pillars of the Earth last year. This book provides an excellent history of the cathedral building period of England and France in the 14th century. In the book, one of the English builders takes a journey to France, ending in Chartres, where he learns the mastery of the French technique for constructing buttresses that eliminate the wind load problems causing cracking in the walls of the English cathedrals as the demand to go higher and higher towards the heavens stretches the limits of the designers' structural engineering prowess. In addition, the French had learned how to construct large window openings that had baffled the English designers' abilities. These larger openings offered the opportunity for large stained glass windows, creating a more awe inspiring appearance inside the cathedrals. Chartre's cathedral was the first to employ new stained glass techniques afforded by these larger openings. The English builder was able to return to England with the knowledge to redirect cathedral building there to create some of the most beautiful cathedrals in the world. I wanted to see this cathedral, my research indicated, that was second, only to Notre Dame in Paris as the greatest cathedral in France.
We arrived in Chartres about 5pm and our Garmin directed us to a spot just east of the Cathedral and below it. I had selected a wonderful hotel, a conversion of a portion of the Catholic diocese building centuries old, adjoining the cathedral. Getting there was tricky, we discovered we had to contact the police department through a call button alongside a narrow roadway to have the bollards blocking the road remotely retracted below the road level so we could make the final journey up to the hotel area. We unpacked, found the last available parking spot, and headed for the cathedral about 6:45pm, the cathedral closing at 7:30pm. We stepped into a charming square with a number of fine restaurants open with outdoor seating. The air temperature was still about 78 Degrees and we looked forward to an ourdoor dinner adjoining the cathedral. The cathedral is massive and old. It has two very large spires, one about 50' shorter than the other and of different architecture. A service was being conducted at one end of the cathedral, we entered, and were able to listen while examining the interior of this massive edifice. It is gorgeous. From the outside, the stained glass windows look rather opaque, no hint of what is to come. From the inside, the intricate details of the windows are amazing, allowing multi-colored light to enter this large stone structure from every angle. The individual windows are possibly 10' to 20' wide and 30' tall, the glass pieces themselves that make the various artistic patterns are perhaps 1 to 2" square. That's a lot of very intricate glass work. I will let Gwen's gorgeous pictures tell the story far better than any words can describe. The efforts of humans to build cathedrals during this period is awe-inspiring. That's about all I can say. As we examined the inner workings of the cathedral, the organ began to play and resonated throughout this huge structure. What a sound. Imagine this very "high tech" miracle of sound and you have an achievement that, with the quality of the glass work, led to people throughout the region conducting pilgrimages just to experience something far greater than anything else the world had to offer.
After a wonderful "French" dinner that included champagne, escargot, casoulet, a very distinctive duck, sausage and white bean dish originating in the Toulouse area, and which Roy had already ordered on several occasions (This one was excellent, after sneaking a taste from Roy, both Gwen and I decided we needed to share a plate - thanks, Roy) we wandered around a delightful old city center with its many restaurants and shops. Being Sunday evening, there were very few people in town, we seemed to have it pretty much to ourselves. My guess is the entire city center, which could easily absorb several thousand shoppers and diners, was only occupied by 100-200 people. By July this area would be crowded with tourists and vacationers. It was perfect. We returned to the main cathedral square as the sun set and watched a 15 minute light slow performed every evening from the middle of May. It was AMAZING. Various light patterns were projected onto the entire front plane of the cathedral, extending up to the top of the spires at 350'. The light patterns were so precise that they could outline structural elements on the top spires that were less than 1' wide and 30' high. Again, I will need to defer to Gwen, who captured much of the light show. After the show, we strolled back to our ancient quarters where Gwen and I spent several hours up well past midnight, creating our blogs for the Tourmalet stage of the trip. It is now early morning, the sun is streaming through our shuttered windows, and we will soon be preparing to bike into Paris. What a wonderful world we live in.
Why Chartres? Both Gwen and I had read Ken Follett's book, Pillars of the Earth last year. This book provides an excellent history of the cathedral building period of England and France in the 14th century. In the book, one of the English builders takes a journey to France, ending in Chartres, where he learns the mastery of the French technique for constructing buttresses that eliminate the wind load problems causing cracking in the walls of the English cathedrals as the demand to go higher and higher towards the heavens stretches the limits of the designers' structural engineering prowess. In addition, the French had learned how to construct large window openings that had baffled the English designers' abilities. These larger openings offered the opportunity for large stained glass windows, creating a more awe inspiring appearance inside the cathedrals. Chartre's cathedral was the first to employ new stained glass techniques afforded by these larger openings. The English builder was able to return to England with the knowledge to redirect cathedral building there to create some of the most beautiful cathedrals in the world. I wanted to see this cathedral, my research indicated, that was second, only to Notre Dame in Paris as the greatest cathedral in France.
We arrived in Chartres about 5pm and our Garmin directed us to a spot just east of the Cathedral and below it. I had selected a wonderful hotel, a conversion of a portion of the Catholic diocese building centuries old, adjoining the cathedral. Getting there was tricky, we discovered we had to contact the police department through a call button alongside a narrow roadway to have the bollards blocking the road remotely retracted below the road level so we could make the final journey up to the hotel area. We unpacked, found the last available parking spot, and headed for the cathedral about 6:45pm, the cathedral closing at 7:30pm. We stepped into a charming square with a number of fine restaurants open with outdoor seating. The air temperature was still about 78 Degrees and we looked forward to an ourdoor dinner adjoining the cathedral. The cathedral is massive and old. It has two very large spires, one about 50' shorter than the other and of different architecture. A service was being conducted at one end of the cathedral, we entered, and were able to listen while examining the interior of this massive edifice. It is gorgeous. From the outside, the stained glass windows look rather opaque, no hint of what is to come. From the inside, the intricate details of the windows are amazing, allowing multi-colored light to enter this large stone structure from every angle. The individual windows are possibly 10' to 20' wide and 30' tall, the glass pieces themselves that make the various artistic patterns are perhaps 1 to 2" square. That's a lot of very intricate glass work. I will let Gwen's gorgeous pictures tell the story far better than any words can describe. The efforts of humans to build cathedrals during this period is awe-inspiring. That's about all I can say. As we examined the inner workings of the cathedral, the organ began to play and resonated throughout this huge structure. What a sound. Imagine this very "high tech" miracle of sound and you have an achievement that, with the quality of the glass work, led to people throughout the region conducting pilgrimages just to experience something far greater than anything else the world had to offer.
After a wonderful "French" dinner that included champagne, escargot, casoulet, a very distinctive duck, sausage and white bean dish originating in the Toulouse area, and which Roy had already ordered on several occasions (This one was excellent, after sneaking a taste from Roy, both Gwen and I decided we needed to share a plate - thanks, Roy) we wandered around a delightful old city center with its many restaurants and shops. Being Sunday evening, there were very few people in town, we seemed to have it pretty much to ourselves. My guess is the entire city center, which could easily absorb several thousand shoppers and diners, was only occupied by 100-200 people. By July this area would be crowded with tourists and vacationers. It was perfect. We returned to the main cathedral square as the sun set and watched a 15 minute light slow performed every evening from the middle of May. It was AMAZING. Various light patterns were projected onto the entire front plane of the cathedral, extending up to the top of the spires at 350'. The light patterns were so precise that they could outline structural elements on the top spires that were less than 1' wide and 30' high. Again, I will need to defer to Gwen, who captured much of the light show. After the show, we strolled back to our ancient quarters where Gwen and I spent several hours up well past midnight, creating our blogs for the Tourmalet stage of the trip. It is now early morning, the sun is streaming through our shuttered windows, and we will soon be preparing to bike into Paris. What a wonderful world we live in.
Stage 18 - Salies-De-Bearn to Bordeaux or Tourmalet Revisted by Dale
Yesterday we woke up in Gouchen, far from the start of Stage 18. We were close to the Start of 16 and near the end of 17. The last two days had been filled with nasty weather and no bike riding. We were getting antsy. The plus was that our stay here was a rather idyllic Shangri-La in the Pyranees Mountains, with our lodging and our host, Vincent, a wonderful combination of bucolic comfort and relaxation. But, I wanted to ride. And I wanted to climb Tourmalet. We had scheduled breakfast for 9am to give us a chance to get a good measure on the weather for the day. And..based on Vincent's advice, we wanted to get to the St. Lary's weekly outdoor market by 8am to purchase some cheese from the "best cheesemaker" in all of France. We made our cheese run - apparently French TV was showing up later that morning to do a special on this extraordinary cheesemaker - purchasing five different local cheeses from his extraordinary inventory. Our sales lady spoke English, worked in a cheese shop near Fran's home near London where Fran bought her cheese. Small world.
When we returned to our lodging and checked the weather on-line, our highest hopes were reinforced. The weather on Tourmalet was to be sunny with a few clouds, returning to rain the following two days. I was thrilled, but still anxious that we would run into fog. While I wanted badly to climb Tourmalet, I was also concerned that Gwen and Fran would find the drive too treacherous in the fog, and my objective was not important enough to put them in any sense of danger. We would just have to set out and see what conditions we faced.
We had breakfast, packed, and headed out back up to Col d'Aspin. This was Saturday, the sun was out, and the bicyclists were out in droves. (Or gaggles, or herds, or whatever.) We must have passed at least 50 cyclists coming down or going up the Col on our way up. When we reached the top the weather was totally different from the previous day, sunny and much warmer. We headed towards Tourmalet. When we reached the base we found the weather to be sunny with no signs of clouds or fog. This was going to be our day!!!
Why Tourmalet? Tourmalet is the mother of all bicycle racing mountain stages. I am new to all of this, and my first real exposure was last year's Tour when Andy Schleck had a sizeable 20 second lead in Stage 16 headed up Tourmalet, and everyone felt, short of a major setback, he had the Tour won. About 100 yards short of the top of Tourmalet he was riding next to Contador, the number two rider, he "cross-chained" his gears, and his chain came off. He had to dismount and put his chain back on. By the time he had fumbled around, got his chain back on and back on his bike, Contador had taken off, and his lead was erased. He never caught Contador in the remaining four stages of the Tour, and he finished in second place, Contador wearing the yellow jersey of the winner. Unbeknownst to me when I first attempted to "trick" Roy into joining me on this Tour de France, Roy had been an avid fan of the Tour many years back. He was watching it on TV well before HDTV existed, and had seen many historic Tours decided on Tourmalet. He watched Armstrong essentially win his yellow jerseys here, climbing faster and harder than any other mere mortal, developing or extending his leads to insurmountable minutes on this mountain. When he started down Tourmalet, he had declared himself master of the mountain and champion of the Tour. No one could climb like Lance Armstrong, and at these grades, the sheer will to believe that no matter how much it hurt or how tired you were, you could reach that top without letting up, and, in doing so, could build an insurmountable lead was stronger than in any other cylist in the world. Roy had watched other cyclists win or lose the Tour on Tourmalet. He had a feeling of the history of this mountain that passed over to me.
Over the past two days, as I recommended over and over that we not give up the opportunity to climb Tourmalet, I sensed a certain ambivalence on the part of Roy. We had been riding for many days, and the long rides had begun to get to him. The difficulty in reaching the top of our first HC weighed heavily on him, and I think he believed he might fail to achieve success on Tourmalet. But, sometimes, friends know the other better than we know ourselves, and, in this case, I knew that Roy was both capable of climbing Tourmalet, and would always regret not trying, if that became the outcome. I was going to get him started up the hill, and I knew his own tenacity, physical ability and desire to reach this goal would kick in, and the rest would be history. I was right, as we were to find out.
We started up Tourmalet and within a half mile of the bottom I signaled to Roy that I needed to stop and remove my rash guard shirt I was wearing under my cycling shirt. While the temperatures were expected to be cold, the mountain had warmed up considerably and we were in the 55-60 degree range, not the 35 Degree range we had dressed for. As I pulled over on the side and dismounted, I dropped my head a bit and entered the shady area. Suddenly I became very dizzy, dropping to my knees and almost collapsed in a faint. The same thing had happened to me about 10 years ago after a run, when I stopped and then entered a dark room from bright sunlight. I crashed to the floor in a faint. I have no explanation, but the combination of the very tight rash guard shirt creating a lot of body heat, and the movement into the shade seemed to have triggered something. I sat back and began feeling better as Gwen and Fran passed by in the van headed up towards the top. We signalled them to stop, and I told them I might not be feeling "quite right" and asked them to follow about 10 minutes behind us so I could determine if I had a problem. (Naturally, I was not going to tell them I had almost fainted. One can only guess where that would have led.) I got on my bike, sans rash guard, and as Roy and I peddled off, I felt fine. The remainder of the ride, I never again incurred anything but enjoyment and hard work.
At about the 3 mile mark, we stopped for an energy bar and a brief rest. Roy expressed how wonderful it was we had decided to try Tourmalet. I knew he was into this 100% and would give it his best effort. We were going to make it. We continued the ascent, following a few other cyclists. We were moving a little faster, but stopped again to take a picture. While many of the riders going up seemed to be motivated to make it all the way without stopping, most of them seemed to be local road warriors who had done this before. I wanted to stop and take a couple of pictures here and there, and wasn't going to let the goal of reaching the top without stopping get in my way. Besides, I had already climbed an HC to the top without stopping, I knew I could do it, I wanted to enjoy this. So..we ran into Gwen and Fran at the 6 mile mark and pulled over to let them know we were fine. We were just below the Tourmalet ski area and could see the large hotels looming ahead of us. We had considered meeting at this point for a brief lunch, but I was concerned about cooling off, so suggested we keep moving to the top, taking a break there. Roy agreed, we peddled on, and passed through the Tourmalet ski area, passing under multiple ski lifts, shops and hotels ringing the road for about 1/4 mile, and then we were above them, headed to the top of the lifts and the top of the mountain. We stopped again at the 1km mark to get a picture of Roy by the sign, and then re-mounted and headed for the top. When we reached the top we found Gwen waiting by the van. "Wow, I didn't expect you, yet" she said. "I wanted a picture of you coming over the top. "
We dutifully descended about 100' and came back to the top as she took pictures. We had to do this twice, but I would have done it 50 times if that's what it took to get the right picture for posterity.
At the top we found commemorative statues and, on the lighter side, about 20 cyclists celebrating their climb, many of them sitting on a sun-soaked veranda in a small bar, having a beer. Gwen accommodated us with a couple of cold beers, and we basked in the glorious warm sunlight. We ate a little food, had another beer, and I let it be known it was time to descend Tourmalet. Going down Tourmalet was also one of those dreams of mine, about 10 straight miles of downhill with lots of S curves and windy turns on steep descents. The pros descended at speeds in excess of 50 miles per hour, but I was resolved to stay below 40mph (or thereabouts.) Roy decided that driving down with Gwen and Fran was fine with him, going up was all he wanted, so I changed into a dry shirt and headed downhill, agreeing to meet them somewhere in the next 10-20 miles. Immediately after beginning my descent, and as I picked up speed going around a right curve against a cliff, I almost smacked directly into an uphill climbing cyclist. He not only was not in his own lane, he had drifted all the way over to the far side of my lane against the cliff. I was able to avoid him by going outside him and between him and his buddies who were in their proper lane. Close call at 30 mph. He was apparently zig-zagging up the hill to reduce his slope. He should have been hung. Fortunately, you don't see this kind of bad etiquette very often, and I had no more close calls for the remainder of my descent. By the time I reached the "bottom" I felt great, and decided to continue on with mostly downhill but a fairly strong head wind. I wanted to ride. After about 20 miles, I assumed Gwen, Fran and Roy would be close behind, so picked a nice place to pull over and wait. Surprisingly, I had to wait almost 20 minutes for them to arrive, and they were very surprised I had gotten so far ahead of them. Needless to say, adrenaline and gravity go along way when they're on your side. I just wish I had ridden another 10 miles before the pickup.
We were still about 50 miles away from the start of Stage 18, and it was clear that we were not going to have time to do this stage. We decided to find the fastest road and head for Bordeaux. As we rode through corn and wheat flatlands, we were reminded of our rides during the early Stage of the Tour. After climbing Tourmalet and riding in the Alps and the Pyranees our motivation for bicycling these rather mundane stages had lapsed. We were happy to drive to Bordeaux and skip this stage. After all, we were now seasoned warriors who had mastered the Alps, the Pyranees, and Tourmalet. Still, we didn't arrive until 7:30 pm, making this a long day.
We stayed in a nice modern business hotel about 5 miles outside the center of Bordeaux. Fortunately, we were a block's walk to the light rail station, where we could catch a train into the center of the city. By 10pm we were hungry and tired, found a nice place for more Italian food, and then returned to our hotel. Bordeaux deserves much more effort than we were able to give it. It is a grand old city, the center is filled with cathedrals, ornamental fountains of gigantic proportion, wonderful sculptures and grand buildings. Perhaps, someday, we will be able to return and do it justice. Sorry, Bordeaux.
When we returned to our lodging and checked the weather on-line, our highest hopes were reinforced. The weather on Tourmalet was to be sunny with a few clouds, returning to rain the following two days. I was thrilled, but still anxious that we would run into fog. While I wanted badly to climb Tourmalet, I was also concerned that Gwen and Fran would find the drive too treacherous in the fog, and my objective was not important enough to put them in any sense of danger. We would just have to set out and see what conditions we faced.
We had breakfast, packed, and headed out back up to Col d'Aspin. This was Saturday, the sun was out, and the bicyclists were out in droves. (Or gaggles, or herds, or whatever.) We must have passed at least 50 cyclists coming down or going up the Col on our way up. When we reached the top the weather was totally different from the previous day, sunny and much warmer. We headed towards Tourmalet. When we reached the base we found the weather to be sunny with no signs of clouds or fog. This was going to be our day!!!
Why Tourmalet? Tourmalet is the mother of all bicycle racing mountain stages. I am new to all of this, and my first real exposure was last year's Tour when Andy Schleck had a sizeable 20 second lead in Stage 16 headed up Tourmalet, and everyone felt, short of a major setback, he had the Tour won. About 100 yards short of the top of Tourmalet he was riding next to Contador, the number two rider, he "cross-chained" his gears, and his chain came off. He had to dismount and put his chain back on. By the time he had fumbled around, got his chain back on and back on his bike, Contador had taken off, and his lead was erased. He never caught Contador in the remaining four stages of the Tour, and he finished in second place, Contador wearing the yellow jersey of the winner. Unbeknownst to me when I first attempted to "trick" Roy into joining me on this Tour de France, Roy had been an avid fan of the Tour many years back. He was watching it on TV well before HDTV existed, and had seen many historic Tours decided on Tourmalet. He watched Armstrong essentially win his yellow jerseys here, climbing faster and harder than any other mere mortal, developing or extending his leads to insurmountable minutes on this mountain. When he started down Tourmalet, he had declared himself master of the mountain and champion of the Tour. No one could climb like Lance Armstrong, and at these grades, the sheer will to believe that no matter how much it hurt or how tired you were, you could reach that top without letting up, and, in doing so, could build an insurmountable lead was stronger than in any other cylist in the world. Roy had watched other cyclists win or lose the Tour on Tourmalet. He had a feeling of the history of this mountain that passed over to me.
Over the past two days, as I recommended over and over that we not give up the opportunity to climb Tourmalet, I sensed a certain ambivalence on the part of Roy. We had been riding for many days, and the long rides had begun to get to him. The difficulty in reaching the top of our first HC weighed heavily on him, and I think he believed he might fail to achieve success on Tourmalet. But, sometimes, friends know the other better than we know ourselves, and, in this case, I knew that Roy was both capable of climbing Tourmalet, and would always regret not trying, if that became the outcome. I was going to get him started up the hill, and I knew his own tenacity, physical ability and desire to reach this goal would kick in, and the rest would be history. I was right, as we were to find out.
We started up Tourmalet and within a half mile of the bottom I signaled to Roy that I needed to stop and remove my rash guard shirt I was wearing under my cycling shirt. While the temperatures were expected to be cold, the mountain had warmed up considerably and we were in the 55-60 degree range, not the 35 Degree range we had dressed for. As I pulled over on the side and dismounted, I dropped my head a bit and entered the shady area. Suddenly I became very dizzy, dropping to my knees and almost collapsed in a faint. The same thing had happened to me about 10 years ago after a run, when I stopped and then entered a dark room from bright sunlight. I crashed to the floor in a faint. I have no explanation, but the combination of the very tight rash guard shirt creating a lot of body heat, and the movement into the shade seemed to have triggered something. I sat back and began feeling better as Gwen and Fran passed by in the van headed up towards the top. We signalled them to stop, and I told them I might not be feeling "quite right" and asked them to follow about 10 minutes behind us so I could determine if I had a problem. (Naturally, I was not going to tell them I had almost fainted. One can only guess where that would have led.) I got on my bike, sans rash guard, and as Roy and I peddled off, I felt fine. The remainder of the ride, I never again incurred anything but enjoyment and hard work.
At about the 3 mile mark, we stopped for an energy bar and a brief rest. Roy expressed how wonderful it was we had decided to try Tourmalet. I knew he was into this 100% and would give it his best effort. We were going to make it. We continued the ascent, following a few other cyclists. We were moving a little faster, but stopped again to take a picture. While many of the riders going up seemed to be motivated to make it all the way without stopping, most of them seemed to be local road warriors who had done this before. I wanted to stop and take a couple of pictures here and there, and wasn't going to let the goal of reaching the top without stopping get in my way. Besides, I had already climbed an HC to the top without stopping, I knew I could do it, I wanted to enjoy this. So..we ran into Gwen and Fran at the 6 mile mark and pulled over to let them know we were fine. We were just below the Tourmalet ski area and could see the large hotels looming ahead of us. We had considered meeting at this point for a brief lunch, but I was concerned about cooling off, so suggested we keep moving to the top, taking a break there. Roy agreed, we peddled on, and passed through the Tourmalet ski area, passing under multiple ski lifts, shops and hotels ringing the road for about 1/4 mile, and then we were above them, headed to the top of the lifts and the top of the mountain. We stopped again at the 1km mark to get a picture of Roy by the sign, and then re-mounted and headed for the top. When we reached the top we found Gwen waiting by the van. "Wow, I didn't expect you, yet" she said. "I wanted a picture of you coming over the top. "
We dutifully descended about 100' and came back to the top as she took pictures. We had to do this twice, but I would have done it 50 times if that's what it took to get the right picture for posterity.
At the top we found commemorative statues and, on the lighter side, about 20 cyclists celebrating their climb, many of them sitting on a sun-soaked veranda in a small bar, having a beer. Gwen accommodated us with a couple of cold beers, and we basked in the glorious warm sunlight. We ate a little food, had another beer, and I let it be known it was time to descend Tourmalet. Going down Tourmalet was also one of those dreams of mine, about 10 straight miles of downhill with lots of S curves and windy turns on steep descents. The pros descended at speeds in excess of 50 miles per hour, but I was resolved to stay below 40mph (or thereabouts.) Roy decided that driving down with Gwen and Fran was fine with him, going up was all he wanted, so I changed into a dry shirt and headed downhill, agreeing to meet them somewhere in the next 10-20 miles. Immediately after beginning my descent, and as I picked up speed going around a right curve against a cliff, I almost smacked directly into an uphill climbing cyclist. He not only was not in his own lane, he had drifted all the way over to the far side of my lane against the cliff. I was able to avoid him by going outside him and between him and his buddies who were in their proper lane. Close call at 30 mph. He was apparently zig-zagging up the hill to reduce his slope. He should have been hung. Fortunately, you don't see this kind of bad etiquette very often, and I had no more close calls for the remainder of my descent. By the time I reached the "bottom" I felt great, and decided to continue on with mostly downhill but a fairly strong head wind. I wanted to ride. After about 20 miles, I assumed Gwen, Fran and Roy would be close behind, so picked a nice place to pull over and wait. Surprisingly, I had to wait almost 20 minutes for them to arrive, and they were very surprised I had gotten so far ahead of them. Needless to say, adrenaline and gravity go along way when they're on your side. I just wish I had ridden another 10 miles before the pickup.
We were still about 50 miles away from the start of Stage 18, and it was clear that we were not going to have time to do this stage. We decided to find the fastest road and head for Bordeaux. As we rode through corn and wheat flatlands, we were reminded of our rides during the early Stage of the Tour. After climbing Tourmalet and riding in the Alps and the Pyranees our motivation for bicycling these rather mundane stages had lapsed. We were happy to drive to Bordeaux and skip this stage. After all, we were now seasoned warriors who had mastered the Alps, the Pyranees, and Tourmalet. Still, we didn't arrive until 7:30 pm, making this a long day.
We stayed in a nice modern business hotel about 5 miles outside the center of Bordeaux. Fortunately, we were a block's walk to the light rail station, where we could catch a train into the center of the city. By 10pm we were hungry and tired, found a nice place for more Italian food, and then returned to our hotel. Bordeaux deserves much more effort than we were able to give it. It is a grand old city, the center is filled with cathedrals, ornamental fountains of gigantic proportion, wonderful sculptures and grand buildings. Perhaps, someday, we will be able to return and do it justice. Sorry, Bordeaux.
Gwen - #1 Approaching Tourmalet
After Friday’s aborted attempt because of dangerous weather conditions, we awoke Saturday to blue skies and much anticipation. In the annals of bicycling, Tourmalet is the “granddaddy” of prestigious and challenging routes and to say one has conquered it is a claim that can last a lifetime.
Gwen - #2 The Challenge Begins
When we arrived at the start of the Tourmalet leg, we joined many cyclists, some in groups, others alone who were readying for the 16 km trek. Dale and Roy completed their normal preparatory routine without the normal kidding around and set off.
Unlike most days when I would take a direct route to a designated meet-up point, today I drove the same route as the bicyclists. In a much lesser fashion, I, too, can claim to have conquered Col du Tourmalet although my challenge was keeping the van on a road with only 1 ½ lanes in many places, no guard rails and precipitous side slopes. We planned to meet the guys at the half way mark in case they needed assistance. As we waited, Fran and I took photos of the surrounding mountains and watched what seemed to be an endless stream of bikers pass us. The only noise they made was the sound of labored breathing.
After about half an hour, we identified the familiar neon jackets. A brief stop to change sweat soaked shirts and they were off, their attention totally focused on the six kilometers and 10% slope that lay ahead.
Gwen - #3 At the Top of Tourmalet
The summit of Col du Tourmalet is a wind swept, barren mountain peak with a few parking spots and a nondescript restaurant whose water closet is reserved only for patrons. However, to the dozens of bicyclists who one by one rounded the last bend and saw the sign that marked the top of the route, there was no more beautiful location on earth. This was hallowed ground as attested by the placards and statues honoring the Tour and its history. For those who’d made the journey as part of a team, fellow members cheered enthusiastically as each comrade appeared. In many languages they were saying, “Job well done, mate”. The freshly sheered sheep who grazed on nearby slopes had long ago lost interest in the cyclists. It was just another day to them.
Gwen - #4 Tourmalet Conquered
I’m not going to attempt to express the feelings Dale and Roy had when reaching the Tourmalet’s summit. You need to read their blog entries for that perspective. I only captured the looks on their faces and the moment for posterity. Oh, yes, the joy included a congratulatory kiss for the SAG wagon lady
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)