SLICE AND DICE

"I have said it before but Tourmalet is evil. Not the hardest climb in terms of gradient or length but the most mal-intended, bleek and ugly piece of rock man has ever thrown a shit piece of road up."

Mark slices his hand around at me to indicate the action of a darting fish whilst gurning like Les Dawson and nodding in a generally knowing way. The only inference I can discern is that he, for some reason, requires me to descend down the back of Marie Blanque very fast. I am thinking this is no time for an exhibition descent for so many reasons.
1. I am climbing like a man-hole cover so going fast downhill would just look like sour-grapes.
2. I am on a GPM/CycleFit test bike (Serotta HSG) which has the brakes set-up around the wrong-way, i.e. with the front-brake on the left, which should be illegal by the way. and it has 175mm cranks. Nothing to do with descending but I am a big fan of short cranks - gives more room at the hip and gives more clearance on the bends.
3. It is a wet, misty day and the roads are slimy wet rather than wet, wet. If you know what I mean? Wet roads give good grip - especially in warm weather - colder roads are always more slippery as the water becomes more viscous. But slimy roads are the worst and hardest to detect grip levels.
4. The bike is fitted with strange tyres. Michelin Pro Race 3's are my norm or Conti GP4000's - the latter is more puncture-proof but the former rolls better and grips better.
So Mark Neep's (GPM) quasi instruction to show-boat is weighed against my wife's order to come home safe and look after the burgeoning family. Ergo I cruise down semi-fast, semi-smooth searching for grip via brail through my prostate. Automatic braking is forced into consciousness as I have to do the reverse of what is natural. The scariest part is running a bit hot into the hairpins and wanting to trail a brake - but which one and which lever????

Mark (Ray) Neep

This is day one of our first Etape Recce trip co-hosted as always by GPM10 and CycleFit. We are staying at the underwhelming Laurent Fignon centre in the middle of Bagneres du Bigorre.

Back in The Pyrenees for what the fifth time in seven years? Our local guide Pat (font of all knowledge) explains whilst we are riding that it is because the area is poor and the Etape du Tour and Tour de France are one way of attracting visitors and income to the area through the year. I see all that and the inevitable crap weather is force majeure but I have never found the area that welcoming or helpful to visitors. The attitude at our hotel is almost comedy French nonchalance, that only serves the Basil Fawlty to well up inside of me. This is all chaff. I just hate being in the shadow or even the same postcode as that bastard Tourmalet. Ignore me I will go away. But as Jules points out - this will be his third Etape and every one has included the Tourmalet in some form or another!

An old friend lurks out the window!

The Marie Blanque, it seems, affects the individual in inverse proportion to one's ability. To an old diesel van like me it was just business as usual. Lowest gear and slug up like the old punch-drunk campaigner that I am. To a lighter, faster and altogether more balletic climber like Jules it created problems. The only rational that I can find is that better climbers do two things that I don't.
1. They start too fast - which is always dangerous on a steep climb.
2. They expect too much of themselves.
The Marie Blanque is short but it still veers between 11 and 13% in the last four or so kilometers. This needs to be respected, Jules?
The Solour I thought was merely Tourmalet Light but with better scenery and none of the baggage. Like all the climbs on this year's Etape it starts easy and can sucker the enthusiastic into early efforts.
No surprises that Tourmalet was closed when we reached it (it was open from La Mongie side). I knew this because I had recce'd the route the previous day. But I still feigned disappointment that we would not be able to climb it to the top that day. Bummer.
To my surprise most of the group decided to climb to where the road was closed and scramble around the barricades (heavy machinery) and continue on closed roads to the summit and from there back to Bagnerres. I protested on Health and Safety grounds but was largely ignored as the disingenuous coward that I am.
It became a little worrying when we were already on our second bottle of broad-shouldered red from the Languedoq and most of the summit party had still failed to show-up. I was not at all surprised when Mark's phone rang and he got up from dinner and shot off in the GPM Peugeot to pick up stranded stragglers. By the time we were all together around the dinner table it became clear that once again Tourmalet had punished the bold, under-equipped and off-guard. For some it was a scary freezing descent off the summit. For a few others it was a puncture with hands too cold to repair and no shelter, help or life nearby.
I have said it before but Tourmalet is evil. Not the hardest climb in terms of gradient or length but the most mal-intended, bleek and ugly piece of rock man has ever thrown a shit piece of road up. Which makes it remarkable that everytime I come into work now I am faced with a 20ft picture of the snow-bridge just below La Mongie. An admittedly fantastic picture taken by a friends of ours from the now infamous 2008 Etape. But why that particular mountain?

The first thing I see in the morning. Every morning.