Days 3 and 4 – L’Etape du Tour

Authors Dave Dyroff, left, & Greg Ellis atop Alpe d'Huez after completing  l'Etape

 (Click Images For Larger View)

They even had a jumbotron set up with that day’s Tour de France stage broadcast live!  After that, it was back to the hotel to find the rest of our “tour group” (the others who’d used the same tour operator as we did to get their entries to the race), have dinner, and retire to the room for final race preparation. Oh, and there was some local interest in the world’s most popular sporting event as the World Cup final was that evening…

But our thoughts were on the race profile for the next day and the obvious questions about whether we’d have the legs, where we should take it easy and where we should push it, how dangerous the descents would be, et cetera.

After nerves, World Cup revelers, and the hot weather (no a/c) kept us up a fair part of the night, 4:00 a.m. came very early on Monday, June 10. But it allowed time for breakfast to digest before the pedaling began, and a somewhat leisurely schedule for race-day preparations and getting to the start line on time. We had no trouble finding and getting to our assigned “start pen” as it was about two minutes from our front door. With around 8000 people on the start line, we had plenty of company both in front of us and behind us.

  
(click images for larger view)

The gun went off right on schedule at 7:00 and we slowly made our way to the start line. About 15 minutes later, we crossed the transponder mat that marked the official start and we were on our way. Only 117 miles and three mountains to go!

The first section was relatively flat as we rode into the rising sun.  The road took us along, and eventually across the lovely Lac du Serre Poncon.  It was easy to just ride and smile at this point, without thinking too much about the challenges ahead.

We did have one brief reminder of the ugly side of cyclosportif at this point in the ride. Early on, there are plenty of faster riders with start positions in the rear who are trying to move up, and plenty of slower riders with forward start positions who are slowly drifting back. With the certainty of a traffic jam at the first feed station, many riders who are riding to beat a particular time are also anxious to pass as many people as possible before we get there. As we approached the lake, we were in a group of 10 or so riders cruising comfortably around 21-22 mph. All of a sudden, a paceline of 6-8 riders going much faster – probably 26 mph or so – began passing us on the left. Despite the fact that the entire highway was closed to automobile traffic, and thus they had the entire left lane to themselves (there were also no cyclists in that lane at the time), they chose to pass our group just a few inches off our left shoulders. Dave reports: “Just as I was thinking how stupid they were being, I saw a helmet ahead start moving in a way that instinctively caused me to stop pedaling and start drifting right.  A second later I heard the noise we all hate to hear of bikes and riders sliding across the pavement. I don’t know if there was contact to start it all, or if the line of hotshots merely spooked one of the slower riders, but the chain reaction was not pretty. I had a guy in front of me sliding across the road, moving to the right toward the guardrail. I was shooting for the opening between him and the rail which was rapidly closing off. Unfortunately, another rider was shooting for the same gap. He got me on the left hand with his right brake lever, but we both stayed up and we both squeaked through before the slider closed the opening off altogether.” Luckily, Greg was a couple of riders further up and managed to avoid a call that close.

Soon we reached the first feed station. Having heard the horror stories, we’d planned on packing enough food and water in our jersey pockets so that we didn’t need to stop. That part of the plan worked. It did not save us entirely, however, as we still had to dismount and walk our bikes for a few minutes through virtual gridlock  just to get to the far side where we could re-mount and resume our journey.

Not long after, we were on the slopes of the first mountain of the day – the hors categorie Col d 'Izoard, what Paul Sherwen would call a “beast of a climb,”  10 miles averaging 6.9% grade, with several long sections of 9 and 10%.  The Izoard was also “reunion mountain” as Greg saw a teammate of his from back home, Joe Cece, and got a good smile for the camera, while a couple of miles later Dave ran into a fellow St. Louisan flying the “Big Shark Bicycle Company” racing team colors – who offered the encouraging news that “we rode this climb yesterday and we haven’t even gotten to the hard part yet.”

Eventually, we climbed above the treeline and entered the strange world of the “Casse Deserte,” where the forces of nature have beaten the mountain rock into bizarre formations. At this point, it also became easier to see how far we still had to go as we could now see the line of cyclists snaking up the switchbacks above us.  We both stuck to our plan, though, of simply finding a comfortable climbing rhythm and just staying within our abilities. With two more mountains to go, and with neither of us in a hurry, we didn’t want to put ourselves in difficulty this early in the day. Soon enough, we reached the famous monument at the summit and the first major portion of the ride was behind us.

(click images for larger view)

The descent to Briançon was fast and fun. It had some tight switchbacks, but the race organizers did a great job of posting warning signs ahead of all the curves, so there were no unpleasant surprises.
 

After refueling, the second half of the ride began with a surprisingly steep (but short) climb out of Briançon before settling onto the gentler, but very long, second category climb of the Col du Lautaret. This is a long climb through a beautiful valley (and into a steady headwind), framed by peaks on both sides.  Large glaciers were visible atop many of the mountains.  As the road got steeper toward the top, we passed through a snow tunnel before seeing the cluster of buildings (set against the backdrop of yet another glacier) which marked the summit. The summit of this climb even had a line of local schoolchildren out to take rolling “high fives” from riders as they topped the peak.

The ride through this valley really gave us the opportunity to reflect on how lucky we were and how wonderful this ride really was. Here we were, on a national highway, with good fresh pavement, surrounded by lush green fields, stunning jagged peaks, glaciers, streams, and waterfalls – and the road was completely closed to cars! No worries about impeding motorists, or impatient drivers passing too close while coming from behind, or about rounding a curve to find a car coming the other way cutting the corner too close – and no yahoos shouting “get off the road” – just the quiet sounds of a few thousand bikes, the occasional “allez” or “bravo” from a spectator at the side of the road, and of course the glories of the Alps. Magnificent!

A long descent thereafter, followed by a short flat section into Bourg d’Oisans, led us to the day’s featured event – the legendary climb to Alpe d’Huez. Although not the longest, highest, steepest, or hardest of the great climbs of cycling, it is the most famous and the most storied. Any serious road cyclist dreams of riding up its 21 famous switchbacks – which are numbered in descending order – but to climb it as the last 8 miles of a 117 mile ride with two categorized climbs preceding it is the stuff of fantasy. By the time we started this climb, the temperature was over 90 degrees, and our approach up the mountain had full southern exposure to the sun. The heat, along with fatigue from the first two climbs, made this one tough. Each switchback is signposted with its number in the countdown, and each sign salutes one or two great cyclists who’ve won a stage of the Tour de France atop the Alpe. Each switchback has another unique feature. On most mountain roads, the curve of the switchback is steeper than the rest of the road. On Alpe d’Huez, it’s the opposite. The “ramps” between the switchbacks are plenty steep, but the actual curves are flat, giving each rider a few seconds of respite before the suffering resumes. Even at the earliest switchbacks, though, the victims started to pile up. Along with family and spectators, riders started to accumulate by the side of the road. Some clearly just taking a momentary break, others walking their bikes, others staring into space with that blank look that seemed to indicate they were done for the day.
 

As we climbed, we looked for shade wherever we could find it. One resident was even kind enough to set up a sprinkler on her elevated deck to shower the road - and overheated cyclists - below.

But, as we passed all of those who were walking, resting, or completely out of gas, we never stopped. It was a matter of pride – plug away and make it to the top without putting a foot down.

Eventually, the famed “red kite” - the 1km to go marker - appeared and we knew it was time to crank up the speed, hold our heads up, and pretend we’d been riding that strong the whole way as we jubilantly crossed the finish line. After re-hydrating and flaking out for awhile, it was time for a much-needed plate of pasta atop the mountain.  What an amazing day!

Back To The Top  |  Le Mont Ventoux  |  Back To Drinking Wine

© Gang of Pour 2006

Link to Gang of Pour Home Page

Link to Gang of Pour Site Index (Table of Contents)