sunday 14th sept - cyclo-sportif, york (spr team 01)

race report by peter.

as far as racing in perth goes, nothing can come close to the popularity of the cyclo-sportif events. however, as the organisors will tell you, it is not racing but a participation event. as such, the different format today gave others an opportunity to see how a real road race is run. instead of the normal team time trial format, this event would be a grand fondo mass start event. well mass enough to head off in groups of around 40 – 50 riders with 2 min between each group. as such the “no drafting between groups” rule was not in effect likewise the “stick together as a team rule”. this meant that we could form big groups and work together as well as drop team mates and not have to slow the whole group down to allow them back on. not that we were going to do it deliberately, but there would be other groups that would dictate the pace.

so, getting ahead of myself a bit again.

the event was to be held at york which, from previous experience, meant open roads with lots of crosswinds. it was not forecast to disappoint. the course would take us north to spencers brook before turning west towards toodyay, but not quite hitting the toodyay shire border. there is a bit of a dispute with the toodyay shire after they stuffed around the cyclo organisation earlier on in the year. it seems that 600 cyclists with supporters is an inconvenience to a town. the toodyay event this year was moved to lancelin. because of this, the advertised 108km event would be shortened to just under 100km.

so, as this event was not being run like a team time trial, we opened it up to anyone that we normally ride with as opposed to the normal race team. we were also keen to get a few riders into the 70km event so that they get a taste of racing rather than just coffee rides. at the end of the day we had a team of nine in the 100km event and a team of six in the 70km event. lorraine’s version of events for the 70km race have already been posted below, but well done to those guys and girls as for all of them it was the first event of this type they had been in.

in the 100km event along with myself, were, mark , mike, dr jerry, michael, dr mark, doug, ben and carlo. it was the latter four’s first time at a cyclo event and it would be interesting to see how they held up.

as we were a new team and had previously been riding under the rio tinto jersey, the organisors did not know our form and as such put us in the last group to go. i did a bit of negotiating and managed to get us into the third group alongside the current rio tinto riders. it would be interesting to see how this event would play out with such a wide range of skills present in each group.

we headed to the line and i noticed how tight my quads were. i had spent the entire previous day building a play-bench for ben and was now paying for the constant squatting and drilling and cutting wood. it was not a good sign for the start of a race but i was hoping that they would get better as the day wore on. pretty soon we were off.

our group was quite big and probably contained about 50 riders. with no real organisation the group was all over the place from the gun. mike suggested that we do single turns at the front and peel off, but i was keen to see how the rest of the group would actually work before i committed our team to dragging everyone around.

so, what happened instead was riders would go hard at the front and start to smash the group apart. we were guilty of that also and slowly but surely we dropped riders from our group and picked up others that started two minute in front of us. after about 10 kms i decided that i we needed a bit of control. we had already lost doug, dr mark and ben to an earlier surge up a undulation and they got caught in the back of the group. we had lost all the rio team except jens who had stuck with us on the surges. the majority of the group was made up of our spr team and a team from southern river bikeforce.

as i said i eventually got sick and tired of the chaos and rolled to the front and started yelling at people. we got a roll through happening. mike was concerned that we were chasing down carlo and jens who were currently up the road. i said that it was way too early and they would not stay away from here, so we will pull them back and just maintain control for now. some of the other teams were concerned that we would roll through too hard, but i reassured them that we would just do this to keep out of the wind.

it was all going fine, although some people needed a reminder every so often when they would not hold a wheel properly and let gaps appear. also, whenever something out of the ordinary (i.e. railway crossing or corner) appeared, the group would lose it impetus and have to be reminded to roll through again.

after the left hander at spencers brook, we came across a railway crossing that was at an angle. the rider next to me swerved to avoid the guy in front who had turned to get his wheel perpendicular to the tracks. the guy next to me had his front wheel slip out as the track was damp from the light mist that had been present all morning. he came down with a thump and jens narrowly avoided riding straight into him. we looked back briefly, but kept going.

we were now riding almost straight into a headwind and along the way we dropped a whole bunch more riders. pretty soon it was the southern river guys and us along with maybe a handful of different individuals that had lost their teams.

about halfway along this stretch, mike took off. not a deliberate attack, but i think he broke away on a small hill and just kept going. carlo soon bridged across to him and the two stayed out front for a while. now whenever a southern river (or ss riders as that was their race number) tried to move off the front, mark would just swing off with them causing the group to snake along the road. when asked why he wasn’t doing a turn, mark replied that he had teammates up the road so he wasn’t going to chase them down.

this continued for a while and i thought that it was a good opportunity to exploit it and try to bridge across to mike and carlo. i was on the back so sprinted to get around the group and managed to gap them as they were still stuffing around. i got about halfway across the gap and looked back to see jerry on the front of the pack, chasing me down. i sat up as i didn’t want mike and carlo to be caught. i asked jerry what he was doing and he asked me why i was chasing down my teammates. i said that i wasn’t as i had a gap and was trying to bridge across but he was the one that was dragging the rest of the pack along. we drifted to the back and had a talk about tactics. it was decided to just leave mike and carlo out there and see how they did.

from then on it was up to the ss boys to do the work, so we left well alone. they did an admirable job and mark commented how they didn’t once complain that we had stopped working. as we approached the turn around, the other two groups in front of us came blasting back along the road. that tailwind looked good and i couldn’t wait to taste it.

just before the turn we got to see how far ahead mike and carlo were, and the gap did not seem too great. at a right hand corner, one of the ss boys went left for some unknown reason, so the rest sat up to wait for him. i tried to take advantage by attacking to see if i could get across to mike. mark also made an effort, but when i looked back, they had started to get organised and where chasing. i sat up again and found my place at the back of the pack.

the tailwind turned out to be not quite a tailwind. as the road turned the wind came from every direction but mostly was blowing across the road. our group was strung out trying to get a draft and the ss boys were doing a good job of forcing us into the wind or risk riding on the other side of the road. i think we lost a couple more riders along this stretch and it was not surprising. if you didn’t get in the prime draft position, it was a hard ride.

after the turn at spencers brook, michael dropped to the back and was bouncing his back wheel in the tried and true method of checking whether it was flat. i had a look and it was pretty soft from what i could see. i bid him farewell and he stopped to change it… three times.

the remainder of the race was pretty much the same. the wind was now coming across from the right and was quite strong. the group echeloned across the road, but that really only gave protection to the first 4 or 5 riders before the rest of us had to line out behind. this meant that we were exposed to the wind for the rest of the ride.

mark had got around that problem by joining the ss boys in doing some turns at the front. he wasn’t chasing but gave a hand to set the pace and i allowed him to stay out of the wind.

i had no computer as i was still on chris’ bike so i didn’t know how far to go. it was probably the last 15 min or so that my legs began to cramp up on a small rise and i fell off the back. i was in damage control mode for the rest of the ride and just did what i could to get to the end. luckily i was picked up by a couple of total triathlon guys for the run into town and they gave me a nice draft home.

so, as is the format of cyclo-sportif, we all headed to the town hall for lunch. with over 600 riders, the logistics of getting everyone fed is quite a job, but they manage to pull it off at each event and I have never known anyone to go hungry. a few awards jerseys are given out for the bravest, strongest and stupidest riders as well as a bunch of raffle prizes.

so at the end of the day, the results were based on the combined time for the first four riders. I had missed the briefing as I was chasing down carlo to give him his race number and didn’t hear that bit of info. luckily for us mark and jerry stayed with the group and with mike and carlo up the road, my time didn’t matter. however, as we were actually competing against all the teams, not just the ones in our group, we probably should have just all worked together and may have got a better overall time. we will know for next time.

sunday 14th sept - cyclo-sportif, york (spr team 02)

race report by lorriane.

Well, for the first time team SPR would have a second team competing in a Cyclosportif event... A number of brave/foolhardy/adventuresome souls from the group had volunteered, succumbed to peer pressure or been shanghaied to join our merry little group of 6!

Despite a nervous sleep on Sat night I was up early on Sunday raring to go. With Lisa navigating (with numerous maps) Declan managed to find his way to Darlington, pick me up and make great time up to York. Once we got within 30k of York it was obvious from the convoy of cars carrying road bikes that it was going to be a BIG event! With registration, day licenses and team briefing complete all that was left was to eat chocolate brownies, make yet one more trip the toilet, saunter up the start line and wait nervously for our 9.13am start.

Our team were the last in a of a group of 4 or more that headed off and we easily passed a slower team without much effort. The pace out for the first 5k or so was pretty easy but it was obvious that the head wind for those up the front would be the biggest hurdle of the day. At this point our inexperience and miscommunication became our downfall and we ended up passing the CRT team in front of us and heading out on our own at a pace well in excess of our comfort zone. The next fatal blow was the sight of Declan's computer hitting the ground and him swinging around to retrieve it. The horrible wind and mix of abilities meant that we didn't last long with our foolhardy manoeuvre and less than 10k out our little team (no longer merry!) had scattered to the four winds!

%$#@!!! Think I... I know we didn't have to stick together for the Fondo but had not anticipated us breaking up this quickly. With Ronny and Melvyn somewhere out in front and everyone else behind me somewhere I was out in no-man's land on my own trying to cope with the wind. By the sounds of it most of us found small groups to tag onto and fend for ourselves as best we could. A couple of accidents (one with a group Melvyn had joined onto) on the way out were reminder to ride safely, especially with riders you don't know.

I can't describe the relief of turning round the cone at the 35k mark and finally feeling a tailwind...magic. So nice to finally be able to crank up the gears and have a fairly effortless 40k/hr+ ride for a while. At this stage I realised I must have passed Melvyn (at the the accident) as I saw him coming up on the other side of the road. I was enjoying the relative ease of riding when I saw the SPR "A" team cruise past me... "jump on" yells Pete. Damn right I thought, especially as I saw Melvyn had grabbed a lift too. Yee hah... Now this was more like it and I sped along for a good 5 min with the "big boys"... until the first little hill. Adios "A" team... it was nice while it lasted! On my own again... naturally! As I contemplated how tired my legs were starting to feel, out of nowhere appears Neil... Great! A familiar face to work with. Further ahead we saw that Melvyn had dropped off the "A" team. His legs were cramping up and he urged us to keep going. We got about halfway back before Neil also told me to keep going and I took off on my own... Again!

The rest of the ride was uneventful except for the return of a nasty crosswind and a spattering of rain. I crossed the line a little over 2hrs15 which, considering the wind and that I was was on my own for much of the time, I was pretty happy with. Ronny had been the first of our group to finish. He had found some good groups on the way and this, combined with some strong riding, had brought him home in just over 2 hours. We were closely followed by Neil, Melvyn, Declan and Lisa. Lisa had put in an amazing effort considering that she was suffering from considerable back pain on the day.

6 people out and 6 people back.... all still managing a smile on their face. A good measure of success I'd say.

Once we had collected our raffle and meal tickets we headed off to the town hall and met up with the rest of the Rouleurs for a very well deserved meal and rest. With over 660 riders plus all the support peolpe the place was packed. Well fed, prizes awarded and announcements made we meandered back to the cars, said goodbye to friends and team mates and headed home.

As my first Cyclosportif event, I must say I thought it was a great experience. Thanks to Peter for encouraging and organising us and thanks to everyone in the B team for getting involved and representing the Rouleurs.

Onwards and upwards... When's the next event??????

collie-donnybrook - stu's report

race report by stu

Registration for the annual Collie-Donnybrook was much the same as any other race, except that on this day it brought dread and excitement to bear at the unveiling of handicaps! Would all the preparation be wasted or would it stand in good stead? Whatever the case, 104km has to be ridden – it doesn’t just happen. Scan program; Where’s my name, where’s my name, ah, there it is in the 24min group. Wow, fantastic, great! – not many other names I know though, but at least it’s a big group – extra good! Painful memories of my only previous Collie-Donnybrook experience in 2006 in which my tiny group (19min) disintegrated barely into 104km of torture were washed away with anticipation of a good result this year. Further scan of the handicaps showed Pete at 14min - jees, he’ll be pissed’, and Ryan at 12min suggesting that we wouldn’t be seeing much of each other on the road that day.
Ahead of my bunch were the 33min and 28min groups. I had recognised a few names from South West Cycle Club (SWCC) and considered that a couple of them might have a winning chance if they could stay away.

As we waited at the start I made small comment to ‘coffee boy’ who looked withdrawn and a little flat (duh), and my comment went unresponded. My group’s start was un-awesome, we missed the first turn to head out of town and had to double-back – no idea what the marshal was doing. The pace for the first few kilometres was very Sunday strolling-like, despite my verbal harassment and gesticulations. Except for a few riders, there appeared to be a general lack of will to ride hard and take a chance to win. Disappointment and frustration so early in the race was not a good sign. However, the first significant hill just 7km out of town created a break by the only four riders of the group who had showed any willingness to work in the first stages. We soon formed an informal alliance, and rolled through toward Donnybrook in tight formation and shared workload, gaining good time ahead of our 24min remnant group. The only distractions along the way were dropping my first Carboshotz tube, eliciting a few tasty words (and the amusing thought that somebody in a following bunch might ride over it and squirt against adjacent rider – hoho – the things that amuse), and the panting and clunking from the No 83 rider/bike combination.

Exhortations to the group that our 24min handicap ‘must not be wasted’ and is a “chance of a lifetime” may (or not) have been a little dramatic, and may (or not) have had some effect on the group, but we had “jelled”! We were riding well and we certainly had a chance! We glimpsed a big group in front of us, about 8km from Donnybrook, and although we expected to catch them soon, it wasn’t until the turn-around at Donnybrook that we finally latched on. I don’t know what other groups thought about our big group’s lead margin as we crossed paths on the return journey out of Donnybrook, but the time gaps seemed pretty good to me! Unfortunately I couldn’t catch sight of Pete, Ryan or Brendan, so hoped they were going OK.

Within the newly formed big bunch, the predetermined informal plan of ‘see how we go when we catch the front markers’ brought back the frustrations of the first kilometres out of Collie. Few riders were willing to work, so once again it fell to the four of us, plus Craig Kimpton (nice work Craig) from SWCC and 1 or 2 others to push the pace along and avoid being caught by the back-markers. The generally flat terrain near Donnybrook meant that it was difficult to break away again from the bunch. Somehow, by thought osmosis, the ‘new plan’ to make a break on the hills out of Mumballup was broadcast to the strong and willing. If only somebody had broadcast to me that there was prize money and trophy on offer for the first rider returning to Mumballup. I think I just rolled around the corner in 2nd or 3rd wheel, without any idea of the lost opportunity. Damn.

Anyway, other opportunities presented themselves soon enough. Hills! I just rode nice and solid up the Mumballup hill at the front of the bunch, and before too long, one of the few remaining riders called out that there were only 6 of us – we were it! Woohoo!The six of us included the four original 24min breakways –me, Chris Roberts, Michael Martin and Tom Bakowski (#83) plus Mike Vanduijnhoven (aka Dutch Mike) and Tony Canzurlo from the 28min group. I knew Dutch Mike from my days in Bunbury and was pleased to see him there. Once again the group I was with worked strongly and evenly, although Dutch Mike looked like he was on his limit to stay in touch. Eventually Dutch Mike disappeared, and thoughts started to turn to how to win this thing!

I had no great confidence in winning a sprint to the line, despite that I felt strong and maybe looked stronger than the others appeared to be. Alternate options were necessary. I had noticed a small descent about 5km from Collie on the outward journey and had previously considered that it might be a possible place to try to make a break. However, as the hill approached, it looked small, and the prospect of time-trialling into Collie endeavouring to maintain a 10 second break were not appealling. We stayed together. A small bout of cramps with about 4km to go caused internal alarm. I had drunk plenty, and eaten plenty – hence my general lack of fatigue – but now this – I didn’t need it! A little rest at the back of the group and drink of water provided some relief, but I felt trepidation at recurrence under hard effort of sprinting, especially out of the saddle.

The new new plan was to ‘go’ at the tiny little ascent before the final left turn to the finish. If I could be first at the corner, get a good clear line around the corner – that presented as my best option, I thought. Well, I got it half right. I was first round the corner, and first for much of the final sprint to the finish, but was pipped right near the line, to finish a very close 4th.

On reflection, there are bitter / sweet thoughts. Perhaps I could have done better, but in reality, I just wasn’t good enough. I had scored a generous handicap, and without that ‘head start’ I would probably have never had the opportunity I had. All 3 placegetters ahead of me were ‘day licence’ riders, and there may be a good argument that such riders should not be given such generous handicaps – but in my situation, without them I would never have got as close as I got. We worked really well as a group, and that gave me lots of satisfaction. A good day in the saddle.

saturday 16th august - collie-donnybrook

race report by peter

the collie-donnybrook is another of those races that always sits high in the calendar of the perth race community. i think the main reason is similar to the menzies-kalgoorlie race – money. when the first prize for a race is counted in the thousands of dollars rather than the hundreds and there is a chance that anyone from a, b, c or d grade can win it, people all think that that have a shot at it. hence the 103 entrants to this event.

as the name suggests, this race heads from collie to donnybrook. however, as the name doesn’t suggest, it then returns the way it came for a total of 104kms. the reason this race is open to anyone to win is that it is a handicap race. a bit different to menzies where it was a graded handicap (i.e. a, b, c & d all set off at different times) this was a more spread field. basically you just entered and the handicapper looked at your previous results and gave you as much a headstart as he thought you needed. this varied from olympic track gold medalist peter dawson starting from scratch (no headstart) through to some of the girls getting a 33 min headstart. all up there were 13 starting groups

we didn’t know what group we would be in until we signed in and it is always a point of contention as to where people are placed. ryan was an unknown last year and was given a 25min handicap. that group went on to win the overall, but a flat tyre cost ryan any chance of victory. after his string of second place results this season there is no way that he would get that advantage again.

so after the menzies experience, i was still a bit dubious of doing a handicap event. but, as most things this season, it has been a learning experience and i thought i would have a crack at it just for the experience. the one thing i did learn at menzies is how easy it was for me to dehydrate and what a dramatic effect that it could have on my race. just like the pinjarra race, i started drinking the day before to make sure i was hydrated. with the race being on a saturday, i didn’t have the usual saturday afternoon to check over the bike to make sure it was all ticking along. i had stripped it down for the pinjarra race two weeks earlier, and was hoping it would still be fine. the race also started at 12:30 which is very unlike most other races i had done. this meant that i didn’t have to get up too early for the 2 ¼ hour trip down south, but meant that i would be late home even if i left straight away. but i am getting ahead of myself again.

ryan and stu had been convinced to enter this event with me, as the rest of the race crew were washing their blouses… again. the weather report said “bloody beautiful mate” as it was going to be a very pleasant 20 degrees but there would be a slight headwind home. i set off fairly early as i wanted to get a good park and set up the trainer to warm-up on. after leaving the servo i noticed that my speedo in the car read 66,666. was this a good omen as it is one of those speedo multiples that you secretly celebrate, or a bad omen as it seems like a multiple of the beast. only time would tell. i made better time than expected and turned up almost 2 hours before race time. that was even with at least two unscheduled stops for a nature break. between this and the pinjarra race, i think i have marked my territory along most of the south west highway.

so, i signed in and had a look at the start list for my handicap. 14 mins. not particularly good for me as i knew these groups would be overhauled by the a graders following behind. ryan was off 12 mins and brendan was going from 10 min. i scanned the field for stu’s name and was slightly confused. there was a stuart in the group with ryan, but not the right surname (similar though, so i thought they had stuffed up). but then i saw it way down in the 24 min handicap. here is a guy that finished exactly the same time as me in the pinjarra race, and he has a 10 min head start on me. he even had a couple of minutes on some of the female riders. no idea how that happened, but he needed to take advantage of the situation and try to get a win.

i had a bit of a wander around some shops in collie as i had already finished one water bottle and also needed some panadol to ease the persistent headache i woke up with. soon, however, it was getting close enough to think about a warm-up so i dug out the trainer and got kitted up. between getting up and starting the race a total of 6 toilet stops meant that i should have been pretty well hydrated. i would now need something else to blame if my race went balls up.

ever on time (not) ryan turned up with just enough time to roll up the street and back as a warm-up. i was already getting ready to line up and this guy was asking if we were in the 14 min group. i was, so he introduced himself (can’t remember now) and said how he wanted to work the group. we only had five riders off 14 min as one hadn’t turned up so i was a bit dubious of wanting to work too hard. ryan and i were looking at this guys bike. cervelo slc-sl with a lightweight rear wheel and zero-g brakes. we were sure it was well and truly under the uci weight limit so i will refer to this guy as weight-weenie. next thing we know we were off.

the pace was not too hard, but we were definitely pushing it. as we hit the rolling hills out of collie there were signs of struggling in the group. at about the 5km mark we lost our first rider. big tall guy with a grey farm frites jersey on who would feature later in my race. we will call him farm-guy. i should really learn some of these guys names as i have seen this guy in many races this year.

after the 10 km mark we had lost our second rider and were now down to three. i was trying to work out weight-weenies strategy as we still had over 90 kms to go and i was sure that i would not be holding this pace. by 15 kms we caught the 16 min group and picked up three riders as we blasted past. it was all “downhill” from here to donnybrook but we had a crosswind as soon as we turned the corner. this made the roll through difficult.

we continued smashing it along the road and any debris from the earlier groups we came across could not jump on board. weight-weenie even said to us that we should smash past them to make it hard for them to get on our wheel. i didn’t understand this as the more we had the faster we could go. as we kept pushing hard we managed to drop couple more from our little group. at one stage we had only four riders and weight-weenie kept pushing on. i didn’t want to seem like i was holding up the group, so i kept working as best i could, but was really starting to feel the effects of the pace. we picked up another group and this time a couple of guys managed to jump on. about 5 kms from donnybrook, there was a small rise that i got gapped on. i didn’t bother chasing and sat up to recover.

after doing so much work, i was so buggered that i was sure that my race was over. i dreaded the plus 50 km ride home by myself and was kicking myself for the decision to even racing another handicap. i just hated the pace from the start. it was over 100 km of racing and why the hell did weight-weenie think that we would not get caught.

i cruised along the road and looked back to see when i would get caught. there was no-one there for a while so i tried to take advantage of it and get some fluids and food down. next thing i know i see quite a big group coming around the corner. it looked to be at least 15 or so riders and i could see ryan’s spr jersey flash to the front occasionally. as they approached i got up and sprinted to make sure i didn’t get left behind. it was clear the ryan’s 12 min group had been caught my brendan’s 10 min group and they had picked up almost all the rider debris that litter the road in between.

i jumped into the group and realised that it had already split into the have’s and have not’s. there were a group of riders that were still rolling through and working and a group that was just sitting on. i moved to the back to become another passenger. we past stu and his group coming back from donnybrook and it looked like they had quite a strong group working hard together. their gap was quite good too, so i thought that there was a chance that they would not get caught.

as we came into donnybrook i was chatting to young ben who was in our small group of five that had to chase to get back on to the group at the last race in pinjarra. he was picked up when we caught the group at the 15 km mark, but had not held on but was picked up by this chase group. he mentioned that he had run out of water as his parents were meant to hand him another one along the way. i got him to open his bottle and i squirted some water of mine into his bottle. whether i would regret this later i would have to find out.

we turned at donnybrook and i was content to sit in for the rest of this race. as we came up the rise out of town, the scratch bunch was coming the other way. it was clear that pretty much the rest of the groups, from the 8 min down to scratch, were all together and pushing hard.

as we raced along the flats i noticed that farm-guy was in this group. he was talking it up a lot and barking orders to people, but not really doing anything. he would come up alongside the group and let us all know how far behind the scratch group was. like it mattered as he was not really doing anything to stop it from happening. i noticed that coffee-boy was also in this group as he started with brendan today. however, he was back with me and looked to be suffering a bit.

pretty soon the scratch group was upon us and they started to move past to get to the front. as the group was already quite big, the scratch men were moving up on the wrong side of the road. as the wind was coming across our left shoulders, it was continuing to push us to that side anyway. there were a few moments of mad scramble when the call of “car” rang out and the group had to merge back into the correct lane. the commasaire had insisted that people would be disqualified if they were caught crossing the centre line, but i didn’t expect anything to happen.

the pace increased and a few little surges made it difficult for me at the back as i couldn’t get good protection from the wind. i looked up the road and it seemed that weight-weenie was still out in front. good on him, but i didn’t think i wanted to be in his position once that hills came again. a couple of the other guys that were picked up initially by our 14 min group also came back through the pack as they were swept up.

the dreaded corner finally came and i knew what was going to happen next. the road started to point upwards and my legs did not want to play. a combination of minor cramping and just damn tired from the initial effort meant that i now watched the group disappear up the road. i wasn’t the only one though and the pack basically spread itself wide and far along the climb.

it was now just a matter for survival and i had 20 kms to get through before i got home. i was not racing it anymore and i knew that i could get home ok as long as i paced myself. farm-guy fell back through the group and he managed to jump on my wheel for a bit. the next climb saw him off as another guy and i climbed on ahead. he eventually dropped me too, but the whole “pick up a rider and drop another” continued pretty much the rest of the way home. i managed to pass a couple of plan b and atomic brooks guys as well as they had spent themselves in the scratch group. there was a lot of rider debris left on the road.

towards the end of the race, i was pretty much on my own. as i came down the last few hills, i looked back and saw another rider chasing me down. as they flew past i noticed it was farm-guy again. he was chasing hard on the downhill’s and managed to pass me at speed. as the road rolled up again, he slowed down and i came around him so he settled in on my wheel. as we came into collie, another guy had managed to get on and came around for a turn. farm-guy jumped on his wheel and just sat there like he was saving himself for the sprint. we took the final turn towards the line and i was sure that farm-guy was going to sprint to 80th place (or whatever we were). sure enough, up out of the saddle and across the line he went. congratulations. i just rolled across the line and went to find ryan and stu.

it turns out that stu’s group did not get caught and he managed to take out 4th for the day. claimed himself more money than ryan’s second place at pinjarra just to rub it in. ryan and brendan stayed with the scratchmen all the way to the end and managed to sprint it out for whatever place they came. hopefully all three of the guys can write up a few lines on their perspective of the race, as it was very different to mine.

so my second handicap event comes to a close, but at least i finished this one. i still don’t like the format and would rather be doing a normal scratch race. not many races left in the year, but the next one should be interesting. it is a grand fondo cyclo-sportif event. basically this is run more like a road race than a normal cyclo-sportif event, so teams do not have to stick together. i think it is a good opportunity for any of the south perth guys out there that want to give racing a go to jump on board. if you are interested and want some more info on when, where and how much, drop me an e-mail.

sunday 3rd august - pinjarra classic support race

race report by peter.

UPDATED with video below

i faced this race with quite a bit of trepidation as i hadn’t raced since the ill fated menzies-kalgoorlie handicap quite a while ago. my motivation seemed to have taken a trip away and i was struggling to keep on top of the training. basically i felt i was really under-done and not ready for quite a hilly ride at race pace. however, since our new kits had arrived i was determined to give them an outing and had to convince the other guys to join me. in the end we had six sign up for the race. ryan, michael, stu, jerry, mark and i all signed up for the support race which would be contested over 65 kms. chris wasn't racing due to lack of form (heart/spine/guts) but was coming along to try out his new video camera.

it was going to be a pretty big day for bikes at pinjarra. the main race was the a grade men doing two laps of our course for the 130 km, as well the cyclo-sportif race was happening at the same time on some of the same roads. not sure how many riders the cyclo race had but it would have been a few hundred. our race also had a strange mix as the women’e event had been combined with the support so there was twelve women in the mix too. all up there was between 50–60 riders in our group.

but i am getting ahead of myself a bit. i had taken a family day yesterday and didn’t ride but still was able to give my bike a good clean which it desperately needed. you know when it is wet and that black sooty stuff that comes from your drive train and accumulates on your brake pads? well i had so much of that on my wheels i thought they were black. well they are, but this was a different black and looked crap and was making everything it touched dirty. so the bike got a birthday but i still haven’t managed to get that seat post out and will have to take it to a bike shop to get them to pry it loose.

i also spend an hour or so yesterday on a bit of body maintenance, as the lack of motivation had lead to my legs taking on the appearance of a slightly anorexic yeti. people always ask why we shave/wax/whatever our legs, but the only real reason i can come up with is it looks more athletic. i was going to suffer today, i didn’t want to look like a hack rider as well. but that is just my opinion for me. you might think that hairy bike legs are fine. that is up to you.

so bike and legs maintained (or at least both looked better) and we were set for another race. since the menzies race i had been a bit worried about dehydration during the races. last night i drank lots of water to see if it made a difference. then on the way to the race i had another drink bottle just to make sure. it seemed to be going down fine but caused me to stop on the way to pinjarra. at least i knew i was hydrated.

the weather was quite brisk too. the cows in the paddocks i was passing were breathing out big clouds of condensation to further emphasis the coldness. they were only predicting a max of 16 degrees for the day too. it is days like this that i worry about what i should wear. if i put my vest on, will i get too hot and overheat on the climbs. if i don’t will i freeze on the descents. should i wear an undershirt to try to keep some heat in. i worry about all these things for two reasons. one, i tend to overheat easily, but at the same time get cold quickly due to minimal insulation. two, in a race situation, there is no way i can change on the fly. i still have trouble riding no hands so changing while riding would be a disaster.

anyway, with the first hill only 15 kms into the race, i needed to warm up first as my legs usually take longer than that. i jumped on the trainer for a good 20 minutes of spin beforehand. it was then i discovered just how warm it was in the sun. no vest and no undershirt. just arms should be fine. i was still worried, but that was just me being stressy.

so we lined up behind the “a” grade race and waited for our turn to go. stu and mark were out for a warm-up ride and i wasn’t sure if they knew where and when we needed to meet. race time approached, the “a” graders were off and we were having roll call. still no stu and mark. i wasn’t going anywhere, they would just have to chase to catch up if they were late. luckily, with a few minutes to spare they turn up and ryan rolls forward to sign them in. stu missed the start to the dardanup race and had to chase to catch up. i need to keep the boys under control a bit more.

anyway, we rolled out and i settled in to a position at the back of the pack, trying to catch up on some sleep. there was 15 kms of straight, flat, slightly rough roads to cover before things got interesting, so i was trying to use the opportunity to warm my legs up some more. my hamstrings seem to take a while to get comfortable and the harsh roads make sitting in the saddle no a pleasant experience. i was already beginning to have doubts over this race and we were not even really into it. the new kit made it easy to spot the rest of the team and i could see mark and ryan trying to move forward and hold a better position. a few guys tried to take off the front, but they were going nowhere fast.

a bit before our turn onto del park rd, i moved myself towards the front. ryan and another guy had the same idea, but the first guy found a hole to slot into while ryan and i moved further to the front. there was a poor guy at the front that was doing a bunch of work and was getting shafted again. same as most races, when he pulled off to the right, the line just followed him and no-one was willing to do a turn. that just shits me as we are all there for the same reason, so why not share the load.

a guy found this the perfect opportunity to take off the front as the rest were dicking around. taking up my role as domestique i moved to the front to up the pace a bit. i started reeling him back in but was flagging a bit so pulled over to the right. the rest of the pack just moved with me like a bunch of pricks. thanks guys. i sat up and just kept pedaling, which allowed the dude to get further up the road. the turn to del park rd was suddenly upon us so luckily i was already on the right hand side of the road and took the turn. i put in an effort again to try to reel the guy in before the hill but couldn’t sustain it for very long. i pulled right again and this time actually sat up and almost stopped pedaling. stll no-one would come around, so i just cruised along at a grandma pace for a while.

as the hill started, then they all wanted to show how strong they were and started to come around me. one guy attacked and a whole bunch of riders scrambled to get on his wheel, blowing the field apart. i was stuck in amongst the mayhem and riders where going everywhere. some were putting in a big effort while others were flagging and going backwards. the big effort guys then hit the wall and became road blocks while still the front guys were putting more distance into us. i was hoping that my heart rate monitor was playing up as i saw a lot of 185+ and some 190 readings when i looked down. not really sustainable for me and i was really thinking that i was watching the race slip away from me.

a big effort got me around a small group and halfway to the front runners, but it took it’s toll and i was over taken by the chasing group again. i was beginning to worry and self doubt meant that i was beginning to think about just not trying. michael was just in front of me and was putting in a good effort, so i thought i better stick with him for some team unity. ryan had made it up front and stu had come from the back to join that group too. jerry and mark were somewhere behind. i wasn’t looking back, ahead was hard enough for me.


at the end of the first king of the mountains (where we didn't get any points) the time check from watching the video footage went like this -
0:00 bunch with ryan & stu
+ 0:18 michael & pete
+ 1:08 jerry & mark
the rest of the field was pretty much spread across the rest of the hill.

after quite a bit of climbing, where michael and i swapped turns a few times, stuart from glenn parkers south informed us that our little group of michael and i along with mel who does the sunday ride with us occasionally, ben one of the junior riders and stuart, were the only ones left. we had dropped all the others and were stuck in between. we started rolling through and eventually got to the point where we could see the front runners. we were hoping like hell that they would not attack again, or we would never catch them. it took more than a few rolling hills before we finally latched onto the back of their pack and could have a rest.

i was still worried that they would put in a few attacks on the remaining climbs, but for now we were just sitting in. i remarked to mel that she was to only female in the group so she just had to sit in to clean up that prize. she had not ridden the course before and was unsure what was coming up. we did the cyclo-sportif race the last couple of years and were now past their turn around point, so i kind of knew that there would be a couple more climbs to contend with.

we were content to sit in for a while and recover as much as possible. michael said that he could see stu but not ryan so were we in the front pack or was ryan up the road a bit more. we then spotted him close to the front and deduced that we must be in the front pack. we had four of us in the group, so were pretty happy with how things were progressing so far. after a few rolling hills, the pack did not seem to want to push hard at any time but rather just set an even pace. i had recovered by now and noticed that ryan was too close to the front and was doing work again. i moved around the pack to the front and chastised him as i came past saying that he needed to save it for the sprint. i would do a turn for a while then break off, or be overtaken by another rider. unlike the initial section of the race, there were some people willing to do a bit of work. not many but some. i lead up the kom hill which the “a” grade race contested but no points for us. as the hill kept going, i started fading a bit and slowly fell back through the pack. by the time i crested the hill there was a small gap in front of me and a bunch of riders behind me. i didn’t look back but rather put my head down and chased to get back on. the field had effectively been reduced once again, though not through any attack just attrition on the steeper longer hills.

i recovered, moved forward, and found ryan at the front again. i told him off again and went to the front for some pace setting. there were a few more rolling hills before we hit dwellingup and i managed a couple of turns on the front. its not that we needed to (i thought) but rather if no-one else takes up the load, then ryan feels compelled to and then has nothing left at the end.

after the turn at dwellingup, the road flattened out a bit and even started going downhill. people were keen to be on the front for the descents but not when the road swung upwards soon afterwards. there were two little rolling climbs to go before we started the descent proper and so i was back on the front to set the pace. as long as i didn’t hit my max, i could sit comfortably on the front for a while.

by now we were seeing many more of the cyclo-sportif teams coming up the hill towards us. some looked strong, while others were spread out along the entire climb. we had a choice for todays race and chose the wacf event rather than the cyclo-sportif as proper road races were the reason that we formed this group in the first place.

we started the descent and were soon flying down the hill quite comfortably at 60 or 70 km/hr. no-one really tried to attack and anyone who gained an advantage was soon swept up when we slowed for the rail crossings half way down the hill. we spotted one of the rio tinto teams just as we crossed the first rail line and they seemed to be doing it tough on one of the steepest portions of the hill. i used to organise the rio tinto teams but now the south perth group is my focus. hopefully we can get a couple of spr teams at the next cyclo-sportif event in york in september.

so right towards the bottom of the hill there was one more small bump of a climb and this guy attacked. i saw him go from the back and started coming around to do a turn to pull him back. as i was skirting the bunch, ryan took off after him as well. i yelled at him to not bother but he had committed, so i stood up and sprinted after him. there was a guy on my wheel and soon the we had all caught the attack. unfortunately, the rest of the field had also caught back up too.

i told ryan not to bother as we could easily have caught him once we hit the flats. michael had disappeared on the last major climb, but we still had three of us that could work together with a couple of the other guys to pull back any last minute break.

i went to the front for my final turn and brought the group down onto the flats before peeling off and dropping right to the back. i was pretty much spent and needed to recover so i could try for one last lead out if ryan needed it. i had told stu to get up to the front once we hit the flats and keep ryan out of trouble, so he move up as i fell back.

we had very little wind protection now and it was crossing us up from left to right. the group had echeloned out to the right and the last few of us were riding right on the centerline. we had to keep pulling in every so often whenever a car was coming towards us. i basically sat in for the rest of the trip and was trying to get around about the two kms to go point, but couldn’t with the field spread across the whole road. i left ryan to his own devices and hoped that he had enough for the bunch sprint. at around 750 metres to go, ryan jumped and sprinted for the line. i tried to hang on but fell off the back with stu and cheered ryan on from there. it looked like he got it but i wasn’t sure.

it was then that stu tells me that there was another guy up the road. what the f__k. why hadn’t anyone told me about this earlier. as we had come onto the back of the pack late when still in the hills, we just assumed that it was the front pack. when i was on the front, i wasn’t chasing but just pace setting. the guy won with only 20 or so metres to spare. i had enough energy to finish with the group, which meant that i hadn’t given it my all. if i had known, maybe stu and i could have smashed ourselves to try to bring him back. there were a couple of other guys that were working at the front, so we could have worked together. coulda, woulda, shoulda. but didn’t and so had to be content with second place. this is becoming a bit of a theme with ryan.

anyway, we rolled around and back to the line to watch the rest of the guys file in. michael wasn’t that far behind at the end, and mark and jerry came in a minute or so later with a very convincing sprint over one of the female riders. we all sat around and had a bit of a chat with some of the other guys. managed to introduce ourselves to a couple of the other work horses that were doing turns for most of the ride and found out that sam who started to come out on our sunday rides was in our bunch. i hadn’t noticed as i was either head down at the front , or gasping for breath at the back. anyway, it was good to have a chat with the other riders.

as we were waiting for the rest of the field to come in, i asked bec (another one of davina’s girls) whether she had seen sandy come in yet. i used to do triathlons with sandy and she has come out with us a few times on the sunday rides. she is a good time-trialer and i had been hassling her to come and do a road race. apparently she hit a pothole on the descent and came off big time. the ambulance was sent to get her and she was beat up pretty bad. i managed to get hold of her later and found out that she has not broken anything, but had lost a lot of skin off her face, shoulder, leg, elbow, pretty much everywhere. i think she said that she has one finger that is not cut up. apart from that, her brand new trek madone 6.5 is now in multiple pieces. not good for her first race. she said that she did enjoy herself (probably up till that point) and would be back for more races.

so, for the spr team though, i think we had a fairly good outing as a team. we worked together were we could and ryan still came away with $120 prize money. i was happy with my domestique duties and happier still that i managed to finish with the front group after getting dropped so early in the race. so the collie–donnybrook race is in a couple of weeks time and i am questioning if i am ready for another handicap event after menzies. after this race i am 80-90% sure i will do it. on the first hill of this race, i was 20-30% sure. i think i will give it a crack as with my track record, i am bound to be given a good handicap.

Etape Du Tour - Part 1

L’etape de Tour Report - by Melvyn

Apologies to readers who are short on time as this part of the blog is lengthy. It documents not only what we did, but our impressions and feelings of the situations.

On our way – how we got there

Our year of preparations culminated all too quickly on Wednesday at the airport check -in. With about 20kg of overweight luggage between the three of us, Jerard was pleased to again have the lightest bike/case combo, speccing carbon/ceramic casters and extra lightweight buckles for his “box from the net“ Sadly, Mark was overweight by nearly 9kgs – most of which chocolate for his insane metabolism. We had all been cautioned by our wives to dress warmly and to some extent had packed some optional extra clothing. My non-bike clothing was curtailed to a spare shirt and undergarments due to the potential of $Singapore 80/kg charges for overweight luggage. Perhaps we’d be able to justify a set of Lightweight carbon wheels to get under the SIA limit of 20kgs?

After a short check-in thanks to the on-line check-in facilities, followed by the now familiar passage past the security goons, we were on board en-route to Singapore. One of the advantages of travelling with two other bike riders is that you can take up a whole row of seats and not sit next to someone who is using up more than their share of seating! A pleasant flight to Singapore and a two hour transit saw us on our way to Barcelona via Milan. Once overseas, it doesn’t take long to realise that sometimes we do live in Hicksville. The scale and clockwork efficiency of Singapore airport, even in the middle of the night, has no compare.



Once into the airport terminal in Barcelona, nothing could have prepared us for the chaos and activity of a Latin country. The passport queue was hideous, then we unhappily collected our mildly damaged luggage (somehow some casters had been bent). The customs officers gave us a nod to go past (none of the officials had spoken a single word to us through immigration) and it was welcome to Spain! Outside, the airport was a hive of activity, with eight lanes of cars, taxis, busses and motor scooters noisily competing for road space and our attention. It had begun to rain a bit which was not good for our morale, with tensions already at a nervous high in view of what lay ahead. Where was the famed Mediterranean hot weather? We must have imported some winter from Perth.

After a short transfer where we amazed the bus driver with the unlikely act of cramming 3 bike cases into the boot of a minibus, we were at our hotel – surprisingly up-market, in a commercial area near the airport. The bikes came out and the process of spannering them back to completeness began. They had survived unscathed. As I was tightening up my seat post collar the Crapagnolo threads stripped, and the bolt was not going to be long enough to engage the rest of the threads. Bugger – where are we going to get a 32.4mm collar in Barcelona (they are hard enough to come by on various online sites)? We had planned to go into town for lunch anyway in order to resist the temptation to sleep, and now had a real purpose.

After a few enquiries at Decathlon (a Rebel Sport like chain store), we were directed to perhaps the BEST bike shop I have been to in the WORLD! Pro Bike (www.ProBike.es - not the same as a well known on-line retailer) has over three levels of mainly off road bikes. Base to high-end are catered for with drool worthy parts, wheels, clothing and bikes actually in stock and on display. Prices also were surprisingly reasonable. How about a built Cannondale System 6 in Liquigas colours for 1900 Euros? Perhaps the most distinctive feature of the shop is that the servicing is on the top floor, with the mechanics testing out their rides by pedalling them down the series of ramps to the ground floor, then back up again. MTB customers can even test their bikes out back on a short trial course. Everyone actually seemed happy to work there. I explained my problem to one of the mechanics, who emerged later unable to find a suitable replacement collar, but came up instead with a longer bolt. He surprised me by saying there was no charge. We were more than happy to buy our gels, and bars here, along with a spare tube and some socks that I would find useful later.

We returned to the hotel in the late afternoon. With few dining options, as dinner in Spain starts at 2000hrs, we went back to the airport on the free shuttle to get some baguettes. If anything it was more chaotic than ever. We were also beginning to notice that Spanish ladies were more noticeably up-front than in other countries. The number of tattoos on show was also striking, though it was not for us to argue against other cultural standards. We settled in for an uneasy night, yet looking forward to the challenges that were to come. As we were still a little time zone challenged, some of us were able to wake up to see if late night German TV had changed much from when we were in Europe last year. It’s good to see their society is as progressive as always…

Getting to Lourdes


We woke up bright and early to go to the airport to pick up our hire car - a Fiat Ducato van more suited to moving house than bikes. The bikes and cases were swallowed up in the cargo area, and we soon commenced our road trip along the highway Northwest from Barcelona to the French border, crossing the Pyrenees. The country turned from flat and dry, to hilly, and soon we arrived at the foot of the mountains. Again we were filled with trepidation as we caught glimpses of the peaks up near the clouds. It’s pretty rare to have clouds at the top of Welshpool road, and most people who want to go that high take aeroplanes. As we drove around the hairpin roads, we were again thinking of how the Tour riders would show superhuman skills climbing and especially descending at speed. We had our own fears of descending the roads especially with the forecasted rain, not having forgotten our experience on Ventoux the year before. You cannot imagine how easily you can pick up speed down a hill, until you stop for lunch and find that the peppery smell is from your car’s brakes cooking from the descent.

We got to Lourdes two hours later than we had hoped, just as the weather seemed to be coming in. Lourdes is an amazing place for pilgrims of many types – both religious and for the cycling in the area. The more common are those who seek healing from the Virgin Mary at the famed Grotto (it was the 150th anniversary of the appearance of the apparition meaning it was particularly busy). The masses of nuns, wheelchairs, and devout from all over the world is impressive. Somewhat depressive however is the tackyfication of what must have been a pretty French riverside village with endless trinket shops full of plastic icons. This extent of commercialism is a little affronting. There is blatant profiteering, as a can of drink that is 50cents in other parts of France, and for that matter in other parts of Lourdes, commands a 2Euro price down-town. The pilgrims of the bike alas have to share the town and conditions in order to access the many famous climbs of the area.


We battled through the endless swarm of devout, who truly must have faith in the healing waters, as they were unafraid of a simple thing such as being run over by three Aussies in a van. We later learned that this happens with any driver, even if you are driving a full tourist coach. Taxi drivers in this town must have a similar faith in the healing waters as they drive full tilt through the crowds. We finally found our hotel to meet up with the tour organisers outside who told us we had just 30 minutes to join in a ride. We looked at each other, and shrugged our shoulders as we rushed the cases to our rooms changed into our knicks.

The First Ride

The first ride with our Aussie cohort started a discussion between the three of us: can you tell a rider’s ability from their bike? I looked down at my own to conclude that cycling prowess does not correlate with you ability to press “add to cart”. What if you look athletic/strong – does it mean you ARE strong? Some people (particularly the guys leading the tour group) certainly looked strong. What if you look old or have a gut? We concluded ( incorrectly as it turns out) that if you look crap, you are likely a weak rider. This was to be disproved many times over the next two days by various 60 year old men and women effortlessly riding up their hills.

The ride took in a climb that would be a small prelude to the real climbs on the etape ride – a mere blip in the profile. This short test however filled me with confidence, as the roads were good and I had kept up (unlike my usual form in Perth). It felt good to stretch the legs, and the bike was performing well. The bike itself was never going to let me down, as it was a marvel of technology, the result of years of design and technology. No, it was not going to be the weakest link.

We got back to a rushed shower and dinner. Todd had arrived, but looked despondent. His bike had not made it on the same flight out of London. Things were looking grim for his etape. Lindy had her bike, but had not had a ride for some time since her tour of Italy. They had conned a friend Dave, also from Perth to join in this escapade.

The Day Before


We woke up to a grey sky with massing clouds . If this had been a scene in “Lord of the Rings” it would have been a sign of impending Armageddon or suchlike. It evoked a similar ill feeling before the ride. Todd’s bike had arrived the night before from its side trip to Poland, and he was itching to ride. Mark, Jerard and I decided to take the soft option and sit out the day’s riding on the bus in the developing rain. The plan was for us to register in the town of Pau where a bike fair was set up at the starting village, and anyone who wanted to ride home could. We decided to use the day to procure clothing that would make our day more comfortable (less uncomfortable?) and safer in what we assumed would be horrendous conditions at the top of the peaks. Talking to various people from the area, we resigned ourselves to freezing conditions at the top.

Our lack of winter gloves essential to prevent our hands from numbing in the cold and allowing us to brake effectively when descending, was a weak link. There were none to be had at the fair since the organisers of the stalls mainly brought end of season stock and that season was summer. We caught the coach back which was piloted by a brave fellow called Marc (he fearlessly barrelled his coach through the ancient streets). Marc was a former cyclist and was sympathetic. He told us that he could drive us to a good bike shop he knew – just after he had finished ploughing through another group of wheelchair bound Italian pilgrims. In fact he drove us to a bus depot, and phoned ahead to make sure that his wife would be there to pick us up to ferry us to this shop. She was running some deliveries with their toddler in the back and we were assured it was no trouble! We soon got to the shop and bought what we thought we needed. Satisfied in our preparations we were delivered back to the hotel. What generosity!

The Night Before

The dinnertime conversation was nervous to say the least. We were agonising over the final details (as if they would determine if we would fail or succeed). Surely it reflected our personalities as we went through the endless permutations. Winter or summer arm warmers? Tights , knee warmers or nothing? Wear a gillet or not – am I going to get too hot? What base layer? Two pairs of gloves or one? Bring two or three drink bottles? Ten gels enough? Do we eat a power bar or banana? Did we even want to wake up the next day if the preparation were this painful? We were further cheered up when we heard there were no guard rails on some descents, and going too far on the other side of the road may cause you to collide with a sheer rock face.

After gobbling down a final meal of carbs in a token carbo load, we settled to mostly a fitful sleep to hear soft gentle steady rain outside.

Getting to the Ride

A 4am awakening and a forced breakfast showed that there were extremes in preparation. Some had barely more than summer weight jerseys, whereas I had thrown on everything I had (and was still cold). It wasn’t a good feeling loading the bikes up in the rain, and the Powerbar which ordinarily tastes terrible went down particularly badly on the bus. We were treated to a traffic jam of cars trying to get onto the Autoroute at 5am, packed with bikes of all types and description. There was a massing of cyclist like some sort of dawn break pagan ritual, drawn to a common place by a mysterious primordial force.

Our arrival in Pau with the soft rain would ordinarily have been quite rustic, some would say romantic. All I could think about were the descriptions of battles and the feelings described from the trenches of World War 1. We arrived to a throng of activity with cars and bikes everywhere. Last minute pumping of tyres, adjusting of brakes, a short toilet break in the bushes, and we were off. Down dark streets to the turf club carpark which was the site of the mass start of the etape. Mark and I had drawn start numbers in the 6000’s, and we had a particularly unpleasant wait as we chilled in the corral. Jerard was perhaps luckier to start 3000 riders ahead of us. He was already out of sight amongst a sea of helmets and carbon.

As more riders piled in, the atmosphere was intensifying. Cycle groups would break into French song about ride domination. Old crusty campaigners were mixing it up with newcomers. Rusty steel and aluminium clunkers were amongst ubiquitous carbon, often ridden by gnarled mountain-men with stern faces. We sized up the competition, trying to catch sideways glances of bikes and legs, trying to look cool and nonchalant. There was a hubbub of speech in French, Italian, Pommy, and Irish, all nervous and sometimes boastful. It was impossible to know who would go fast, and who would fail. We all knew one thing though- it was going to be tough. I tried to talk up my confidence. After all, 100km of the race was on the flat, and 30km would be descending – how hard would it be? We shivered mainly from cold, but partly from nerves. All through this it kept on raining.

The Ride

All of a sudden a cheer, and a roar at 0700 – a thousand cyclists were let out of the pen. When those had cleared, another thousand, then another and another were released. Each time the gates opened, a cry rang out, like an ancient army charging into war, as riders streamed past the gates to trigger the electronic timing. It was all too soon our turn, and we edged our way to the front. The mood was electric with a sea of Lycra and pumping legs. The roads were wet and narrow, but all thought of pacing this one was lost as we strove to get to the open road. Through the roads of Pau, and the roundabouts and traffic islands there were bikes everywhere. There was a nervous energy abound, a frenetic pace that was surely too fast. I guess there is that feeling if you are 6000 places behind the leaders, and you know there is an elimination time. Some foolhardy souls were time trialling at this stage, and I managed to catch a lift with some. I had made up many places, a combination of flat fast roads and able helpers (and a natural antipodean tendency to ride on the left).

Disaster struck when 10km out my bidon slipped out of my wet gloves onto the road. There was no way I could complete the ride on just one, so I stopped to retrieve it. It had landed in the worst possible place in the middle of the road with wave after wave of bikes swarming around. Riders, like lemmings, were throwing themselves one after another to their fates. They were scared to break formation and pace, lest they lose advantage. Only cries of “attencion” caused the disorganised streams to split like a mountain steam cascading around a rock. Like that ancient game of “Frogger”, I waited for a break in traffic, anxious as with each moment I was losing time and places. Eventually I secured the bottle and resumed the chase. Flying along, never leading, always following, I clawed back time and places until I was seeing riders numbered in the 6000’s again.

We turned sharply to the left and hit the brakes as there was a significant bottleneck through a village. The road was rough and had sections of cobbles forming traffic chicanes forcing us to walk. Already there had been a major crash with an ambulance stationed on a hill – lights flashing. We streamed past in a low gear, rubbernecking and trying not to be involved in our own pile-up, many jockeying for position. It was a low time slowly riding up the main road of this town in gentle drizzle, reminded of what lay ahead.

Soon, the road began to widen, and trains began to form. The flat profile on the ride description was misleading as the route actually took us over undulating forest. Gradient saw weaker riders (or those who were saving themselves) being passed. The roadside was littered with signs held up by cheering family who showed the same commitment as the riders in the rain. Small children cheered “Allez! Allez!” as their father and his friends clattered past. This was the real thing, both daunting and inspiring all at once. It felt like a real race and we like real racers.

Disaster struck a second time as we progressed to the first of the small descents perhaps an hour or so into the ride. It came after a short hill which caused riders to bunch up across the road. I recognised that as we descended, there would be trouble as the corners had to be tackled. A short sprint across the crest and initial descent saw me lead the small group down the greasy road. The rain continued to be in my eyes as we took a series of gentle curves. Those who ride with me will recognise that my descending style tends to be a little more committed, which perhaps reduces your options as you go down. I had set up a corner at speed, but accounted too late for a rider who had hit the brakes as he too saw the curve tightening. It was too late to do anything but to squeeze the levers tighter and hang on. There was a gentle thud as we bumped each other and my bars which had caught him twisted around. I over corrected and could feel the front wheel losing grip as the slippery tarmac afforded little traction. In slow motion I was down and on my left side, my hands still on the bars and my chin hitting the ground. The bike slid a few more metres, and came to rest in the centre of the road.

My instincts were to get off the road fast, and I was soon scrambling on my grip-less cleats. I watched as perhaps a hundred riders descended toward where I had just been. Cries of “Velo! Velo!” punctuated the racheting of freewheels as miraculously riders were able to swarm either side of the obstruction. A break in the flow allowed me to retrieve my bike. I feared that my ride was over as I inspected it quickly for damage. Apart from a twisted left brake lever, there was not much to see. It was then that I remembered that I had landed on my chin which was feeling ominously numb. Blood steadily dripped onto my bar tape as I walked to a safer spot. There was another rider here– Tim with an American accent - who I asked to have a look. He told me the gash was very deep and that I would need stitches. No more riders were coming down now, and with a shrug of my shoulders I hopped back on the bike, not wanting to be stuck in the middle of nowhere.

I actually felt energized as only a major adrenaline release can make you feel. Soon the road was flat and I was again passing with the assistance of swifter riders. The only annoyance was the continual red drip onto my handlebars and top tube. There was road spray everywhere and I worried about contamination of my wounds. I passed a familiar Ridley on the side of the road: it was Mark who had flatted his rear tyre. A few minutes of fiddling under the watchful eye of a French farmer looking over his front wall had Mark’s back tyre on. I got him to check me out - it didn’t look too bad he said. (He later admitted that in reality he thought the wound was quite deep, but since I looked like I wanted to continue the ride he’d take on an encouraging tone).

Re-invigorated by sugar and the rest we continued the pursuit. I chased with a pace that I had not put on for a while and made pleasing progress. I actually felt optimistic of avoiding the cut-off. With all the delays that had gone on that was a real concern. There was a short climb of 5kms at 5 percent. The stream of riders slowed as we wheezed up the hill. Uncharacteristically I actually kept pace and overtook on the hill (those who ride with me know that hills are not my forte). Again the roads were lined by families and friends who had turned out to cheer us on. I managed to give some a wave of recognition which elicited response of encouragement. I could not help feeling perturbed by the looks children gave me as I pedalled past with blood running down my jersey. Mark soon cruised past, but I was not far behind, and soon we were on the flat and descent again.

The next set of descents were not as technical, and although I had lost a bit of nerve, I knew that I could still progress adequately. Soon the road was flat and excellent progress could be made to the feed station in Lourdes. The pace had pretty much settled to a steady procession and the frenetic pace had the sharp edges knocked off. A short series of corners led us into central Lourdes where the water stop had been set up. My glasses had fogged after coming to a stand still as I made my way past masses to get water and jellied fruit. It was amazingly well organised as volunteers dispensed cans of drink, spooned out energy powder and ham sandwiches with croissants. I refuelled and thought about making a quick getaway when I spied the medical tent.

I thought that I should get a bandage, and get back on the road. I was still feeling quite good at this point and was looking forward to testing myself on some climbs. It was the look that the nurse gave me in the medical tent that told me my race was now over. She motioned me over to a trolley to lie down and fetched the doctor. He said that I could leave the bike here as I needed to be transferred to the hospital to get stitched up - they had no facilities to debride the wound in the tent. For a moment I actually thought that I might get away with asking for a bandage and soldiering on, but that would turn me into one of those patients who don’t follow instructions that I myself dislike. With a reluctant and disappointed sigh, I was bundled into a waiting ambulance for transfer with a temporary bandage in place . I tried to cheer myself up by taking a picture of the nurse in the ambulance, who also took one of me.



The hospital was quiet for a Sunday morning, but staffing had to cope with guys who had fallen earlier. I saw the tell tale slings of men who had done their collar bones, and a guy who was in a hard collar. It made me feel lucky that I could have actually ridden on after my spill. The ED Doctor was no nonsense but professional, as only someone who was mildly annoyed at having to do a Sunday shift would be. She was not a little intimidated at having to repair an urologist’s face: surely if he was stupid enough to go riding in the rain like a madman, he wouldn’t be too fussy. The drape was placed over my face, and a familiar process of cleaning and local anaesthetic injection had begun. All too often I had been on the other side of the drapes, thinking to myself “what sort of self destructive activity has this guy undertaken?”



Without fanfare, it was all over. An x-ray of my jaw to make sure it wasn’t broken and to inspect my expensive dental work, and I was turfed back on the street. My priority now was to get back to my bike which was a real danger in the rain on cobbled roads in my cleats. It was a distinct possibility that I would end up back in the hospital and in a wheelchair like the pilgrims that turned a disapproving look at my incongruous attire and still bloodstained jersey. Lost in the throng of nuns, priests and tourists, I eventually made my way with the assistance of a map back to the feed station. By this time the packing up was in full swing. All the tables were gone, and so was the mechanical assistance and medical tents. I scarcely recognised the place that had been an hour later packed with bikes, discarded mineral water bottles, and riders using walls as urinals. Panicked that I could not find my bike, and I was overcome by a real sinking feeling that it was not likely now that I’d be charged for overweight luggage on the way home.

The volunteers eating lunch in a large marquis saw me and motioned me over. “Manjare?” they motioned pointing to their mouths. I made cycling motions to indicate my bike was missing. A lady who spoke English came over and got me to sit down for lunch. Although they were in the process of packing away, some potato salad, cheese, ham and bread materialised. They sat me down and gradually I made them aware of my situation. They assured me that everything would be OK, and gave me a glass of red wine. On the bottle was the local cycle hero Hubert Arbes to whom I was introduced. He was responsible for the local organisation of the course and general rides through the Pyrenees. He shook my hand and I did not need a translator to understand their smiles. Hubert is a bit of a legend and had ridden the tour as a pro five times. His participation rides through the Pyrenees attract thousands of riders. Apart from doing all this and running a bike shop, he also manages the local cyclo-sportive chapter and seems to have the immense respect of his proud volunteers.
http://www.pyreneespursuits.com/scheduled_weekend_breaks_2.htm
http://www.la-hubert-arbes.fr.fm/

One lady got on the phone to track down my bike: it had been put on the sag wagon and was headed to the finish village. They could provide me with a lift to re-unite me with my bike! I was grateful for their hospitality and took a picture to commemorate their efforts. For me it is these people who live and breathe cycling, and have limitless hospitality who personify the spirit of Lourdes. Their genuine generosity is in contrast to the kitsch commercialism of the hotels and wall to wall cheap souvenir shops. My heart was warmed to these people who had rescued my day. I was soon in a car driven by a lady and her mother, to be reunited with my bike 15 km away at the base of the Hautacam.

Epilogue

Finally reunited with my bike, I checked it and found that someone had washed the handlebars and bar bag of the blood. It had been carefully packed and was fully serviceable. I had two options – to get a lift with my tour organisers, or to take a short ride back to Lourdes. I could have thrown it in, but the air was clear and the roads were drying. I felt cheated of my chance to climb the peaks and was angry at myself for my mistakes. I had to ride to clear my mind. On the way home I reflected on the day. Why is it we ride? Often in torrid conditions and suffering as a result of exertions, we persist. Some will do it simply for fitness. Others will do so for the moral superiority over the plodding obese masses. Many do so to compete against others for glory or bragging rights. We obsess over the high tech and lightness, fashion, and clamour for kudos at the coffee shop. Are we guilty of being coffee shop poseurs? There is a fine line between being competitive, and being consumed by the need to best others. I think sometimes we are guilty of these things to some extent where riding becomes more of a chore or a task then a pleasure. Today should have been about having a good time on the bike, testing oneself against the course, but it had turned into one where “failure” was an omnipresent threat.

I turned back home, liberated by the feeling that there was nothing more to lose, to enjoy the ride for what it was. The empty road, cool but not cold wind, the splendid scenery, the rolling hills, the sensation of speed and control over oneself and machine, were all there for me to take. I had to learn to be content with riding where there was both success in competition (as surely you would judge the achievement of the other boys), and a different success of the actual process of riding itself. The wind blew through the vents of my helmet, but did not chill (mainly because my x-rays were stuffed down my jersey making a very effective wind breaker like newspapers used by the cyclists of old) making the country feel alive and clean as my legs which had regained their strength and resolve powered to a sprint with no one to see. I had finally started to enjoy my day.

L'Etape du Tour 2008- Part 2

Race report – By Jerard
After about 30 Kms, the packs started to thin out and I decided to push it a bit. A strong French boy who looked like a tri-athlete from the way he was riding came flying past me. I jumped on his wheel and stayed there for another 20 Kms, we lapped a lot of riders then. We were going at 40-45Kms/h.We got to Lourdes and the streets were lined up by cheering locals like in the proper tour. People of all ages were there under the rain encouraging riders with bells and calls of “Allez”. It was a great atmosphere and it makes you feel part of an important and special event. I didn't stop at the first feeding station there as I was feeling fine and had not touched my GU's and power bars yet.The course was undulating with hills of 4 to 5% gradients. I was feeling strong and my french domestique was spent and I went past him. I powered up the 2 small “blips” before the Tourmalet. In fact these are harder than what the picture below might suggest, I'd say like Kalamunda road.

A lot of riders started dropping off at this stage. Short descents with tight corners followed but it wasn't raining much and you could see the beautiful country side then, it was awesome!.I eased off a bit as I knew what was coming..... THE Tourmalet.
The giant mountain of the Pyrenees was hidden under the clouds and nothing can prepare you for what was about to come!



The ascent of the Tourmalet is 23 Kms long. It starts gently at a gradient between 2-5 percent for the first 11 Kms. I stayed in a strong bunch of riders and did not do any work at the front. My heart rate was sitting at a healthy 140-145 bpm. I knew it will be harder later and wanted to pace myself.

Unfortunately for Todd he got pulled out of the race because he didn't make the cut off time at the base of Tourmalet. His starting number was in the 8000's so he had a handicap to start with. That's why all these riders with higher numbers were racing past me at the beginning to avoid being stopped, I thought they were inexperienced and stupid! At 12 Kms from the village of Campan, things started to get serious. Let me mention it here that in cycling mad France, there are signs on the side of the road on all mountains telling you how long you have to go to the top as well as the gradient for the next kilometer.

The gradient picked up to 7 %, I was feeling OK, so far so good. Then it went up. From then on it was pure torture and agony! Unrelenting ascent which reads 8-8-8-10-9-10-9-9-9-9-9-8.5%

I have not experienced anything like it before. I have done the Mont Ventoux last year but it was all we did that day. This is an absolutely horrible climb after having been on the saddle for 100 Kms.

I kept my legs turning and maintained my heart rate around 160bpm, I did not want to blow up now because I knew that Hautacam was waiting for us at the end. It was cold and misty but there were loads of people on the side of the road cheering you on. Let me tell you this makes a HUGE difference to your morale and makes you ride through the pain. The majority of the riders were local boys and their friends and families were there urging them on. You could tell they've done their” Welshpool Road “ before.

Just when you thought you have covered few kilometers, you get that sinking feeling when the next sign shows you've only covered one and that the next km has a friendly 9% gradient. I had gone through 3-4 GU's by then as well as a power bar. Half way up the mountain and I started to feel it! My legs started to go although my heart rate was around 150.

What the hell am I doing here? A long flight from Perth, a tiring drive through the Pyrenees two days earlier to climb a stupid mountain in the middle of the rain!

I tried to shake off negative thoughts and kept my focus on the road 10 m away. I decided to stop looking at the signs!

Later I learned that Schneiderman had another unlucky puncture half way up the Tourmalet. He could not get his pump to inflate his tire properly and asked the Mavic support van for assistance. He had to wait for his turn to come and lost a bit of time doing that. They changed his tube, sorted his tire and got him up and going again.

I then reached La Mongie which is a skiing station 4 Kms from the top. The road widens here and there was the second feeding station there. A lot of riders were filling up on food and drink. I thought about stopping to eat, but then I decided to save time as I still had a power bar and few GU's in my back pocket. Mark did stop, had a sandwich / banana/ fruit gel and filled up on energy drink and water.Closer to the top, the smell of cows filled the air and the road was covered with their droppings! Beautiful, what more can you ask for.I was feeling spent then and it took an old woman on the side of the road to prevent me from stopping with “ Allez courage monsieur, juste 2 kilometres du col” ( Keep going, 2 kilometers to go)I don't know how but I finally reached the top and felt exhausted. Nature called and it was the best feeling to do it at 2115 m altitude although you couldn't see a thing below, the valley was covered with clouds . A lot of riders had stopped to have a rest. I ate my power bar, managed to get some water from the firemen there and filled my drink bottles because one of them was empty( I was using Cytomax, the energy drink I imported “legally” from the US and highly recommended by Mark DeCastro, it's good stuff), put my wind jacket and started the descent of the Tourmalet.If the climb was excruciating, the descent was terrifying. The road was slippery, it was freezing cold and you couldn't see a thing ahead. Those of us who did Ventoux last year know what I mean, only that it was longer, much longer! Your brakes become useless and your fingers ache so much that you have to release frequently to get some circulation through again. Will I see my kids again? I kept thinking in case I crash here as there were no road barriers, nothing between you and the bottom of the valley! Having said that, there were the local French riders flying past “a la DeCastro”, they obviously knew the road and what lies around the corner.


After the steep section, the gradient eases off a bit and the road is a bit wider. That part was the best bit as it had stopped raining and we were in the valley between Tourmalet and Hautacam. The scenery was breath taking and I felt like riding again. I took off my wind jacket and hammered it even though it was windy. I jumped from one passing train to the other and was doing over 40 km/h. I did brief stints at the front to catch the faster bunch ahead. I was loving it, Hautacam here I come.
The bottom of the climb is not too steep, between 2 and 5%. There was a group of 6 children doing the Mexican wave and an “Allez” with every passing rider.Then you take a right turn and it picks up suddenly to an 8% climb for 2 Kms. I had another GU and thought that's it, only 15Kms to go. The gradient eased again and it was hard to get a rhythm going. Then came a left hand turn and holy Moses! If I thought the Tourmalet was tough, this was hell. The gradient remained between 8 and 10 % for 10 Kms and I had nothing left. Soon after I hit the wall, it was awful. Not stopping at the food station at the Tourmalet proved to be a very bad and stupid decision. If the professional riders need to eat then who am I, a part time social rider from South Perth Rouleurs, to ride 170 Kms without eating. What an idiot.No amount of GU could help here and I decided to do what a lot of riders were doing, stop. I stopped for a minute then took off again. 2 Kms later, I had to stop again. You could see the pain and agony on all riders faces, some had decided to walk up. A woman had stopped and started crying, not wanting to go on. The locals got her back on, gave her some water and pushed her up the hill. There were also the 60 year old men grinding it up, they must live down the road and do the Hautacam on a Sunday morning before church.. 4 Kms from the top there was a van selling drinks and I thought I was dreaming . Am I suffering from altitude sickness? I gave the guy a 50 euros note but he said he didn't have change! I was happy to pay 50 euros for a can of coke then but he decided not to charge me for it, I must have looked really bad, A can of Coke never tasted so good.
I felt refreshed and took off with a renewed zest. I lapped few riders and finally saw the finish line in the mist on top of Hautacam. After over 7 hours on the saddle, I was about to finish the longest, the hardest and the best ride I have ever done. to As I crossed, I was handed my medal it was 14:45. I stared at 07:10 ( 7h35min total time). I wanted to do it in around 7 hours but I didn't care. Rather than a sense of achievement, I felt relieved the ordeal was over. My computer read over 6000 calories used and I thought GU should be enough to take me up Hautacam!It was freezing cold and the top was packed with riders waiting to go down as they let you descend at intervals of few seconds to avoid the congestion on the road.Had a drink, put my wind jacket and long gloves on and went down. You descend the same way as you go up, so you could see the procession of exhausted riders going up. I kept looking out for Mark and Le Kuan but didn't see them, I hope they're OK I thought.
Back in the organizers van, I was told that Melvyn had a crash and was taken to the hospital but he was fine and back at the hotel ( see Part I). I was really worried and sent him an sms but got no reply. His bag and phone were still in the van. I felt sorry for him to have come all the way from Perth to miss out on the climbs. Maybe next time.I was given a hot drink and swallowed 2 sandwiches. We were driven back to the hotel with Todd and Linley and the other riders who were pulled off. The van would later make 2 more trips to bring back the rest as they come down Hautacam.I later caught up with Le Kuan at the hotel. He was very disappointed and upset with himself. I told him how painful it was to try and ease his pain. Schneiderman came later: he looked shattered but was happy he finished given how unlucky he was with two punctures.


We slept very well that night and had a big breakfast in the morning. Washed and packed the bikes and drove back to Barcelona, this time we took the highway through Tououse – Perpignan and down to Barcelona to save time. We talked about L'etape all the way back to Spain. If we nearly died doing one stage, how can these guys do it for 3 weeks! It's incredible and gives you a perspective of what they go through. Maybe a bit of EPO is not a bad idea after all.
The French love the sport and seeing people of all ages lining the roads under the rain to cheer amateurs was unbelievable. It's a different culture here and I can never imagine seeing that in Australia. Maybe I should retire here. I also realized that it's not about the bike. To see old men riding up these mountains on old bikes makes me realize it's about the sport, your fitness and determination. I won't be wasting any money to save few grams anymore.It was an amazing experience and I highly recommend it. Will we do it again? I thought it was a crazy thing to do on top of Hautacam. Now I'm not so sure. It's interesting how quickly you forget the pain. Maybe I'll do it with Le Kuan one day as he missed out on this one. But next time, Le Kuan has to use his head on the descents, Mark will have to ride with different wheels and tires, and I have to remember to feed my brain.