The Vicious Cycle

I am not the only one of my cycling buddies training for a big race. Erik and Anne are both doing this year’s Etape du Tour in Annecy, and therefore are eager to get out and get some elevation in their legs. Fortunately, we all live near one of the best places to climb in France – Les Cévennes.

Sure, The Alps have bigger climbs and famous cols, but our local mountains have roads that will test the most world weary climber, and descents that will either sharpen your game or make you never want to go down a mountain again. And, of course, there’s the sheep.

This is what held Erik and Anne up on our first climb today, a herd of 800 sheep making its way to the village of L’Esperou for the annual Fête de la Transhumance (the Cévennes is one of the last places in Europe where this is still practiced).

We got some good climbing in the legs today – 2450 meters, so Polar says. We climbed up the ‘Little Ventoux’, which we did on this very day last year. Then, to the top of Mont Aigoual, where I managed to remember to take a photo or two.

John and Erik, before realizing that we might need to go 300 meters further to finish the Strava Segment.

Two Austrians, generously pulled up the hill by Erik and John.

The border of Gard and Lozère, the red-headed stepchild of Languedoc, but a place of magical riding.

There were two more climbs after Aigoual, but mercifully no more sheep. Stay tuned – silly season continues with another proposed Ventoux Triple this coming Wednesday. Anybody interested, you know the drill: ‘toilet parking lot’, Bédoin, 8:30. 

Here’s the Strava link to the ride, if anyone would like a great route while you’re down here: http://app.strava.com/activities/60690698

My generous friend, Erik, lent me his GoPro to use on our Alps tour next month and I found a chance today to test it out. Sorry to inflict my first try out on you, good reader. The good news is that you can just sit back and view this blog post. I’ve even added some classic tunes to make it less painful.

First, a short spin from the parking lot in Marseille, up the Vieux Port.

Next, a part of the climb out of the city, on the way to the awfully pretty and equally touristy village of Cassis.

Finally, the same climb but the other way. It isn’t the best descent I’ve had this week, but it comes a close 2nd…except for that jerk in the blue car taking the fun out of it a little.

The day started at 8:30. The excuses, around 8:35. Here is a short selection, in case you are looking for any on your next big climb:

• My brakes are rubbing.
• My cyst! My cyst!
• My knee is starting to hurt (that one’s mine – an old standby).
• I’m too old.
• I’m hungover
• I’m a girl (okay, that one’s made up. The girl was pretty much  the only one without an excuse.

The whole punctual group met in ‘the toilette parking lot’ in Bédoin more or less at the appointed time and we got rolling just before 9am. Before our (planned) Triple was really the only time any of us thought much of photos, hence the overload of parking lot pics.

From left to right: Roan, Erik, Anne, my butt, Stephen and Mark.

Stephen and me.

Roan, riding his bike Irish style.

Erik, talking. Imagine that.

Steve with a smile on his face. With the weight of the crap he was carrying, this would not last long…or would it?

Our fearless crew at KM Zero.

Bédoin – Ascent #1

And then the fun began. We hadn’t talked about how we were going to ride all day as a group, and it wasn’t long before we were stretched over the Provençal tarmac. We did enter ‘the forest’ together, though, so we could share in that sinking feeling that it’s about to get painful. 

I shouldn’t say this, considering I was first up the mountain, but I wasn’t totally on my game yesterday. The sickness is done with, but my fitness isn’t quite back to what I’d like to have it. The good news is that, through the forest at least, my new 25 was giving me no grief at all. It allows for a decent cadence at 10 kph – 12 kph, which I was holding fairly well all the way. More testing will be needed though, and it’s on its way!

We re-grouped at the Chalet then shot up to the top. Steve took a few photos, or, as looks to be the case below, getting his face into someone else’s classic moonscape shot.

Only Steve could photobomb his own photo.

In beautiful weather, we met again at the summit. Here is a focused Anne reaching the top.

And first-timer Mark.

The winds were with us on the decent to Malaucène and I think I hit my all-time top speed, trying to keep up with Erik – 86 kph (53 miles). This descent is as much fun as it is torturous going back up, with lovely views over the Southern Alps (if you dare to look).

We all met up once more at the bottom and had a bit of food here. This bakery is at the start point of the climb and there is an endless stream of cyclists coming and going all day. If you like that sort of thing, it’s a great place to be.

Malaucène – Ascent #2

Then the fun really began. After a few minutes bickering over which climb was the hardest, we all quickly found out (well, there’s probably still one holdout to the truth…). Of course, this was our 2nd climb of 1600 meters on the same day, so it would seem natural that it would seem the hardest. So, Erik, I’ll give you  that.

Anyway, it’s a monster, no matter which way you look at it. The climb, unlike the southern side, starts nearly immediately. It is frustratingly inconsistent in its gradient, too, so you can never get into a rhythm like from Bédoin. Then, there are two long, straight stretches of major nastiness that had one of our group praying to a god he doesn’t even believe in. Erik even stopped talking. Yes, it’s that tough.

The group re-grouped one last time at Chalet Reynard and then found this.

They are resurfacing this up-to-now awfully tarmacked road. It is a great idea, but I often ask myself  why they can’t think to do these sorts of things outside tourist season. Turns out that this very fresh (the truck was spraying as Roan did his push-ups below) stuff went on for 400 meters and the way around was to walk along the edge. It was decided, by a majority, to leave the Triple for another day and have spaghetti bolognese instead.

And that’s what we did. Except, the story didn’t quite end there. Turns out that Steve and Mark, holders of cards that needed to be stamped, decided to do more riding after eating a big plate of pasta. Since I wasn’t privy to the results of this move, I won’t comment on it. I’m sure it’ll go in someone else’s blog!

The handsome crowd, carbing up for next time.

So, Master Yoda, there was no Triple today. We tried but were defeated by the Dark Side of French bureaucratic decisions. But don’t worry. The season is young. We’ll be back.

Suffice it to say, this is not the blog article I had in mind tonight. We just found out that Ed Hudson, a member of the Vicious Cycle Haute Route Team, has died in a terrible cycling accident.

Most of us on the team never knew Ed, since we haven’t done the race yet, but it is a sad day when anyone in our community dies so tragically. As Rob said, ‘it is the opposite of the intent of riding’. The team will be riding in his honor come August. In the meantime, it’s a sobering reminder of the vulnerability that is inherent in the activity we love so much. R.I.P, Ed.

Thanks to Stephen Chernin for the tribute photo below.

When you know it’s too late to turn back.

A few of us are moseying over to Bédoin (very) early tomorrow morning to (insert your preferred verb here, young Skywalker) a Ventoux Triple, which is, according to my Polar stats from last year, an effort that will require The Force to be with us. Since I might be the only one in our merry band of masochists who has done The Triple, I feel I have the obligation to give some helpful tips. However, as is the case with most insightful things I might like to say in my life, Yoda does it better.

Yesterday I went out in the morning for a 130 km ride. That’s where the good news stopped. I had, in one single ride:

• A fall (don’t stop to pee in deep gravel).
• 4 hours of cold rain (for which I was woefully unprepared).
• A puncture.
• The shock of my life when I realized my pump was missing its inner seal, rendering it useless.
• Over 20 km of riding on my rim because I just couldn’t wait there for a cab. I was pretty freezing.
• A ride on the Montpellier tramway where I was, like the title says, shaking pretty badly. Luckily there was a real crack addict on board, so I didn’t feel too freakish.
• 45 minutes to wait for my train back home, where I found a vending machine and molested the illuminated advertising on the side to keep warm.
• 5 coffees to get me warm again.

But, I also had the good fortune of getting back right before my bike shop closed and the mechanic assuring me that my rim was still round (how is that possible?). I even could keep the tire I had thought I had ridden to shreds.

Back on the road today with much the same forecast. What, me, worry?

I’m feeling mostly better now and just in time. In the next few weeks I’ve got the following Ventoux climbs on the calendar:

A triple ascent (!) with Aussie Steve, American Stephen, Irish Roan and English (?) Mark. Gringo John is busy.

German Carsten (with a ‘C’) and I are planning at least one climb together in a couple of weeks, I think.

Spanish Carlos and I have set a date, too, in the first week of July.

Anybody else want to book a day? You need to be from a new country – that’s the only rule.