At the tail end of 2012, I thought it would be a great idea to acquire a bike in the attempt to try and save my already suffering knees from the relentless pounding whilst running along the often windswept promenade of Southend on Sea. Within 2 weeks of receiving my road bike, I found myself back in contact with an old school friend after he saw a picture on facebook of my new ‘pride and joy’ in the bath after a very wet maiden journey (my wife was out of the country!). Peter, who now resides in Geneva and I quickly re-established common ground and before I knew it he had somehow convinced me to enter the following year’s Letape du tour, stage 20 of this year’s Tour de France!
An idea that seemed good at the time soon became the bain of my life with hour after hour spent on the road, braving whatever the winter season threw at me with the only thing keeping me going was the thought of riding through the sunny French Alps in July…
The journey started at 6am on Friday 5th July after recruiting another two bodies mad enough to take on this challenge. Although we had all accrued in excess of 2500 road miles since the start of the year it felt like I was a child again, getting ready for our family camping trip to the South of France. However, on this trip I was the one doing the driving and I would be spending much of my time dressed in Lycra.
After our 10 hour and 600-mile car journey, we eventually arrived in Geneva where Peter was there to greet us and give us a guided tour of his lakefront apartment and our home for the weekend.
L’Etape wasn’t until the Sunday, so the Saturday was planned as a day of relaxation….and carb loading! We started off the day with a hefty breakfast, followed by a trip down to Peter’s local to watch the British Lions thrash Australia (sorry Synergy AV)and where I had to take out a bank loan in order to buy a non-alcoholic drink. By late afternoon the butterflies started to set in and as a result decided to have a ‘leg loosening’ cycle along the east side of Lake Geneva and back through the vineyards and rural landscapes dressing the west facing slopes.
After another oversized bowl of pasta, it was time watch the Tour de France highlights, the preview to Andy Murray’s big day and then the ritual of setting our kit out for the morning, making sure we had everything we needed for D day.
After what seemed like five minutes sleep, I woke up to 4 iPhones simultaneously echoing one another, indicating that not only was it was time for us all to rise but more importantly this cacophony of ringtones announced the start of what we’d all been training for over the past 9 months. At 05.45 and after a hearty breakfast of porridge, toast and Nutella we made our way through the quiet roads of Geneva and then across the border into France. Ville d’Annecy was the start and finish of our day ahead.
It was a misty yet warm morning, with a nervous tension in the air as all of the 13,000 cyclists visualised what lay ahead. Due to the large number of participants we were set off in waves, rounded up like sheep and placed in pens until it was our turn to take on whatever the Alps had to offer. The ‘pen’ was packed with a real mix of nationalities, ages, size and what I could only guess at this stage abilities too. I spent a lot of time looking for those who might be one of the hundreds of people who fail each year hoping that I wouldn’t be joining them.
Now my plan - if you can call it that - was to use as little energy early as I could get away with, make up time going fast on the descents and on the flat, and keep as much in reserve for Semnoz as possible. I had to think logically….I weighed in last October at 96kg and through sheer graft, I had managed to get my weight down to 88.6kg on the eve of L’etape. A great accomplishment in terms of weight loss, however, my body is not built for climbing the hills around Essex (yes, there are two of them) let alone the Alps.
I was feeling good as I cruised up Puget alongside my 67kg colleague, spinning my legs and putting in as little effort as I could get away with, yet passing cyclist after cyclist (I felt like Chris Froome at this point).
This was repeated on Col de Leschaux (3.6km at 6.2%) - which I rode up chatting amiably to my fellow participants and taking in the amazing scenery whilst ascending the meandering Alpine roads through picturesque villages and rolling pastures to the sound of chiming cowbells, and filled with people shouting encouragement – C’est Magnifique!
I skipped the first drinks stop, stopped at the second to grab some food, and headed onwards towards the Cat 3 hills of Côte de Aillons-le-Vieux (6km at 4%) and Col des Prés (3.5km at 6.5%) where it seemed I was taking everything in my stride.
The first descent worth the name was down Pres to a drinks stop at the foot of category 1 climb, Col du Mont Revard, the first of the ‘tough’ climbs. Here, I topped up my bottles and loaded up with as many carbs which took the form of dry segments of baguette, energy bars, gels and a banana.
I started Revard (11.8km at 5.4%). The plan again was ‘easy’ - sit, spin, keep the heart rate down and keep doing that for as long as it took to crest the summit. Any concept of a fast or slow lane on this ascent was replaced with a universal hunt for shade. Riders seeking out any scrap of cover they could. I drank a lot but struggled to replace the fluids that were leaving my body in the 32 degrees heat. Through sheer determination and despite what my body was telling me it took me 1hr 48mins to reach the summit, but I did it without conceding to what Revard had to offer.
Then came the fun bit and looking back this was definitely one of my highlights. Call me brave or indeed stupid, the thought of pasting myself against one of the ridge walls surrounding the hairpins bends never crossed my mind. The sight of the numerous ambulances scraping fellow participants off the road, walls, fence posts etc somehow encouraged me to go faster as I descended in excess of 65km/hr.
The 2013 Etape had two clear parts. The undulating terrain, where none of the hills are that long or that steep with 1,500m of climbing over 65kms, a profile which is more than acceptable to an Essex based cyclist albeit I would have to clock up twice the distance to match the elevation gain.
Then there’s the Alpine bit. Two, thousand-metre climbs, one over 14km and the other 11km… and it was hot, really hot with no cloud cover.
After my exhilarating descent, I stopped off to refill my water bottles and take on more fuel. Here, I managed to regroup with two of my colleagues and then we were off for the penultimate leg of our journey - 19 kilometres of rolling countryside as an aperitif to La Semnoz ...the beast!
It was as glorious a stretch of road that I have ever ridden and everything you could ever imagine of the Alps. This section was relatively easy with rolling hills through picturesque villages lined with locals cheering on drinking wine and eating cheese. This section was a true pleasure and helped me put behind what Revard had just put me through and more worryingly what lay a few km ahead.
Sitting in one another’s slipstream, cruising at 40km/ hour I forgot I was in the Etape, I was just loving it. Almost done, sun shining and… wait. What am I thinking? You may only be 16km from the finish line but why am I thrashing myself just before the hardest hill I will ever ride? Then, my cadence began to drop as the marker stated 14km to the summit. At this point, I questioned my 67kg colleague about where the climb actually started as it was ‘only’ meant to be 11km, yet my legs had just started screaming at me saying that this was not the case.
Col du Semnoz is officially 11.5km at 8.3% - I can tell you it’s not! It starts 3km sooner (with this 3km at 8.2%). And the 8.3% masks a multitude of gradients. The first 2km consistently over 12% and starts at a small village lined with locals, friends and family from all over ...the only attribute that kept me going as I felt my legs start to twitch… a feeling that I used to get during preseason training.
Shortly after departing the village the climb seemed to only get harder until.
The heat got worse. It was about 13.30, as hot as it gets. There was no cover. I drank as much as I could stomach. Every. Pedal. Stroke. Hurt. My arms and legs looked like they were glazed; such was the uniform coating of sweat. My head was getting hotter and hotter, my hands started to shake. At this point my body decided enough was enough and both legs started to spasm at the same time, almost causing me to fall off the bike as a result of not being able to release the tension. Somehow I managed to unclip from my pedals as collapsed on to the grassy verge trying to manoeuvre into a position where I could stretch. Easier said than done as every position I got myself into a different muscle group started to spasm.
Within a few minutes and after a refuel of liquid and gels I set out again, counting every metre as my cadence was down to a bare minimum. Every turn of the pedal hurt as my legs continuously threatened to cramp.
The final eight kilometres were hard. But also the last. Nine months training for eight kilometres and a distance that I could do in around 20 minutes on the flats of Essex …but Semnoz is far from flat with no respite for the entire climb.
At this point my aim was to keep turning the pedals until I reached the next km marker but my body felt like it was in shutdown mode, cramping at every opportunity and making it very difficult to stand upright let along ride a bike at ridiculous gradients.
I’m not sure how many times I had to stop/ collapse during these last 8 km as I was so delirious due to exhaustion and dehydration but I do remember it being like a war zone. There were bodies lying on the road, in the grass verges, under the few trees and more worryingly I saw paramedics attending to a number to participants en route to the summit.
With 2km left, I was only doing 6/7kmph, but even at that speed, it’s just over 15 minutes left, albeit 15minutes of torture! One kilometre and I’m done. I never thought I would be so happy to see this marker but the way I was feeling at this point it might as well have said 100km! Every metre hurt, hurt a lot. Pain that I have never felt before, coupled with the feeling of nausea made the last 500m what I can only describe as hell.
To be honest I don’t remember how I was feeling as I approached the line apart from what you can see in the photo – pain! I don’t even remember being congratulated by l’etape volunteers or indeed talking to one of my colleagues who crossed the line a few minutes prior.
A few minutes later, I felt relief, a sense of accomplishment and most of all, ill! On completion of the challenge we then had to make our way back down the col to Annecy where the l’etape village was located and where you could get something to eat a relive with the other participants your experiences. Baring in mind that you could ‘freewheel’ the whole way back to Annecy I had to stop 3 times during this 20km ‘recovery ride’, once because my body wouldn’t stop trembling, the second to vomit and the third time because of dizziness and uncontrollable trembling.
I admit it sounds horrendous but within two hours of crossing the line, we had already agreed to sign up to next year’s L’Etape. The emotion, sense of achievement and also the fact that I raised a considerable amount of money for Macmillan Cancer support made it all worthwhile.
Bring on summer 2014!
