After having written up many of the training rides in the build up to the Raid itself, I'm finding it increasingly difficult to describe cycle rides, in a way that captures the essence of the ride, without it degenerating in to a gazetteer of place names and dates. So this time I'm just going to set out some of the highs and lows of the Raid.
Looking back, I struggle to remember where the idea of doing the Raid originally came from. I guess in planning for my first solo rides in the Pyrenees last year I must have stumbled upon it and the seeds were sown. It was another of those, how hard can it be moments that you know ultimately will come back to haunt you.
Thursday - Pre-Raid
We un-box and start to build our bikes and you soon spot those that have done this before. There's a real mix of machinery, ranging from odd looking folding steel and titanium racers, through off the peg aluminium bikes, to custom built titanium and carbon beauties.
Time to unbox and get everything prepared
There's also a fair mix of riders; Aussies, Yanks, Brits, but not a shaved leg or beard in sight.
So heres the cast list for the Raid:
Michael ("I don't answer to Mick") aka "The Theme from the Great Escape"
John (What mountain?), aka "the Eagle of Essex"
Little Simon ("Not another omelette!") aka "The Milk Bottle"
Big Simon ("What I need is an a**e transplant, a nice big, soft, southern a**e")
aka "Mr. Fixit"
Daryl ("Geeze, what's in that stuff? Its burning my k**b") aka "Selle Italia"
Steveo ("Has anyone got a spare tube?" or "how you doin Mick?") aka "Rackman"
Craig ("I'm so pleased to have finished") aka "Mr. IBM"
Paul ("I don't agree with that Jamie") aka "Dr Paul"
Jamie ("Give Paul Hell!" regards Greg Lemond) aka Dr. Jamie
Jamie ("Avi ("We don't have too many hills in Florida") aka The Brother-in-law
Nick the Directeur Sportif/Organiser ("that's the first time thats ever happened on a Raid")
Dom the Soigneur/Assistant Directeur Sportif ("Dad, I'm just off to the bike shop to look at those new forks")
Friday - Pre-Raid
Nick has mapped out a nice circular route for us, a couple of climbs to get the feel of things and check out the bikes and make any necessary last minute technical adjustments. First climb of the day and first Col of the trip is the Col de Saraille.
Col de Saraille
I get in to the rhythm, and am feeling OK, until I start to get some warning twinges from my right hamstrings. It feels like a reoccurrence of the sciatica like pains I'd started suffering from in the Alps earlier in the month and those a legacy of a pelvic fracture I'd suffered some 8 years previously. Only difference now was that in the Alps I'd been suffering of the bike and now I was suffering on it. Day 1 and I'm in pain, this is not a good sign. Trying to analyse my position, it looked like the right leg was hyper-extended at the bottom of the down stroke. First chance we got to stop, I'm out with the allen key and drop the seat by ~5mm, or so I thought (measuring it later it turned out to be nearer 12 mm!). With a lower seat position and having taken a couple of ibuprofen for good measure, we set off again, this time in much less pain and discomfort. Next Col was the Col de Latrape.
We stop at the bottom to fill up the water bottles and top up the sun tan cream on me. As we set off, I'm feeling strong, the gradient starts to kick in and I knock it in to the big ring at the front. I get out of the seat and start to sprint, knowing theres far too long to go to the top for me to keep this up. I figure that if I can put some distance in to the group now, there's a chance I wont be last going over the top. I pedal as hard and as fast as I can, watching my HRM as I go into the red and then max out. At the max, I continue for as long as I can, but the cadence soon starts to drop and I'm forced back in to the saddle and the small front ring. I know it is lunacy, but it is fun. As I turn to look back, confident that I've left the group far behind, John comes sauntering by, enquiring as to what that was all about. So much for that plan! It did however seemingly inspire Michael and John into a week long competition to see who could ride furthest up a Col without changing from the 53 ring. At the top we regroup and see a rider dressed in full Credit Agricole kit and team bike coming in the opposite direction, real or fake ? It's hard to tell in France. After a short rest at the top we take it easy on the descent, which did not have too many corners to negotiate.
Getting in to the valley bottom we split into two groups with the Brits leading. Michael sets up a pace-line and we practise this as we make our way toward St Girons. The hammer is down and we are speeding along at up to 25mph. At one point we stop to help a rather forlorn looking local rider who had sustained a puncture, which coupled with a failed mini-pump had left him having to walk home in his socks. All this on what is supposed to be a warm-up day!
Saturday - Pre-Raid
The Brits plan a warm up ride that takes in the Col de Cagnous whilst everyone else decides to go for an easier day and watch the Ariegeoise as it passes through town. Nick (the organiser), suggests we try something a bit less challenging. That's red rag to a bull, how hard can it be? We get to last 3kms of the climb and the gradient kicks up to 12% in the final kilometre, this is hard! The view is amazing and well worth the climb.
Col de Cagnous
The descent is a long and winding one down a single track tree-lined road. John is amazing in terms of the speed he descended at whilst we hold back not wanting to wipe ourselves out before the Raid has even started.
Its mid-day, the sun is beating down on us and we are running out of water. As we cycle through a town Michael spots their water fountain and we cluster around it like bees around honey. By the time we have finished we have topped up our bottles as well as thoroughly soaking ourselves in order to try and cool down. After some more climbing we decided to look for some shelter and something to eat before the final climb of the day. The first place we try is a bar / cafe, with the emphasis on the bar. Its populated by locals (and a naked female mannequin? I guess they do not have many women in this town) who clearly don't wait for the Sun to set over the yard arm before the first drink of the day. We ask what the chances of getting a ham and cheese sandwich are. One of the locals suggests we'd be better off with a couple of stiff Pernods and a bowl of soup (interesting suggestion in view of the temperature on the road being in excess of 30 Celsius). Maybe he knows something about the 18km climb ahead? The owner of the bar sticks her head out of the door and shouts for her husband (the village baker), to ask if hes got any bread left. Theres no reply, so she tells us we are out of luck and we hit the road. Within 5km of the top of the climb, theres another road-side restaurant. By the time I get there, John and Michael are already on their second coke and sandwich having raced each other up the Col. I order mine, only to be told its going to take 20 minutes. 20 minutes for a sandwich ?, apparently they've run out of bread and will have to bake some fresh, more like defrost some in the microwave as it turns out.
We're going down an 18% single lane track, my front tyre sounds a bit strange, like it has something stuck to it. I slow, look down and it seems OK. Next hairpin I come to, the front wheel starts to scrub out and I fight to control the bike. First puncture of the week!
We catch the tail end of the Ariegeoise cyclosportive as we head down the Col de Porte. We see the last few stragglers fighting to stay ahead of the "Fin de Course" car. One of the local marshals tries to cheer the riders up, telling them its only 6km to the summit, but the summit is not the end of the ride. We meet up with the other guys to see what sort of day they had and find out that Steveo suffered 3 punctures!
Bottom of the Col de Porte
Sunday Pre-Raid
Its a cold wet day as we transfer from our base to the start. There is a wind and rain blowing through the mini-bus as we travel along the motorway. It takes us a while to spot the missing drivers side window, as a concession, the driver has buttoned up his short sleeved shirt. We drop further in to our seats looking for some shelter.
On reaching Hendaye, do we rest, no! It is on to the beach in order to go and dip our toes in the Atlantic. We took some time locating the actual sea front and some of us managed to dip more than a toe in the water, the damp clothing being a portent of things to come.
Atlantic Ocean - Next Stop The Med!
Returning to the hotel our bikes have turned up and everyone checks them over before settling down to watch the England world cup football match.
Monday
We wake up and the sun is struggling to break through the clouds. Talk throughout breakfast is muted, we are all eager to start but at the same time apprehensive of what the next five days have in store.
We take the obligatory team photo and set off.
2006 Team Raid
Michael starts whistling the theme tune from the Great Escape and we all start to do the same. We get some very strange looks as we ride out through Hendaye.
Here We Go
Half an hour in to the ride the rain starts. No one has guards and we are soon drenched by the fine spray of water and gravel from the rider in front. We tackle the first climb of the day in fine drizzle. On the descent Michael takes the lead. Coming into the first corner Michael feels his front wheel go on a patch of diesel and is just able to correct it, unfortunately Craig who is following close behind is not so lucky and hits the diesel, losing his front wheel and slides out, and Daryl goes down with him. The shout goes out, "Riders Down!", and the rest of us manage to stop without further incident. The damage is minimal, some bruising and gravel rash, minimised by the lubrication on the road. Daryls' saddle seat has become detached from its frame and he fixes it back on as best as he can, with some white electrical tape. We set off, chastened by the experience and with Daryl looking like hes sitting astride some strange Australian sex toy.
It's not long before Steveo punctures for the first of many times this morning (this was just after the group of Aussies had managed inadvertently to stray across the border into Spain).
Arrgh Punctures
We jokingly blame the punctures on his rear rack and the weight of the emergency water container strapped to it. Steveo recounts the tale of a waterless, long, hot ride in Australia and the dreadful physical consequences. It later becomes clear that in order not to ever experience this again, the carriage of the water container has achieved sacred significance for him.
We arrive for lunch in St Jean Pied de Port well behind schedule, a change of rear tyre (Daryl very generously having donated a top of the range Michelin tyre) not having cured Steveos' spate of punctures and with Daryl suffering from his "repaired" saddle. By the time weve finished lunch, the local bike shop opens and we see if they can cure our problems. The mechanic takes away the wheel and saddle and disappears for what seems to be an age and what eventually turns in to an age. Time marches on and weve still got 100Km to go today. Half the group decides to press on and leave the reminder to wait for the repairs to be completed. John and Michael stay behind, their job to pace the remainder of the group back up to the leading group, when repairs are completed. The mechanic eventually changes the rim tape on Steveos wheel and hey presto no more punctures for the rest of the ride. Michael then loses patience with the mechanic who is insisting on continuing to repair the saddle (after about nearly 2 hours waiting) and gives him a new one and tells the mechanic just to fit it.
Myself, Craig, Jamie, Paul and Avi are well off down the road. Were on the run up to the Col Osquich. We spot a rider ahead in the green (!) Euskatel kit and set off to chase him down. We pass a well armed group of Gendarmerie hidden in a side road, looking like they are about to spring a surprise stop and search on some unsuspecting motorists. They cheer us on and encourage our chase. We eventually catch the rider, a pensioner in full team kit, out for his daily constitutional. We have a chat; he's more comfortable practising his English than enduring my French. When he'd passed the Gendarmerie, they'd warned him the peleton was chasing him down and he'd wondered what they were talking about.
Motley Crew
We have a brief cafe stop; coffee for the heart, chocolate for the soul. A guy from the Cyclo Club Bernais (the organising club for the Raid) catches up with us and carries out a "secret" control of our carnet. His enthusiasm, vitality and interest, are an inspiration; as was the fact hed been following us for a while to make sure we didnt get lost.
No One Suspects The Spanish Inquisition
By the time the first group get to the last climb of the day, we are all starting to suffer; the combination of the distance and the poor road surface starting to take its toll. Craig goes off the front, but its not long before he blows and I toss him a gel to help him on his way. I'm starting to suffer as the gradient cuts in and the Americans go past. Time for my secret weapon, the caffeine gel. The effects start to work and I catch and pass the Americans on the descent. By now I'm flying and set off in a solo break for the hotel. As ever, pride becomes before a fall and whilst I follow the signs for the town centre, its some 3km before I realise its the wrong town!
In the meantime John and Michael have been dragging the second group along, at a team time trial pace. Steveo is the first to blow and Daryl passes him a gel. Unfortunately he's so far gone he doesn't even have the strength to tear it open and therefore Daryl ends up grabbing it back and ripping it open for Steveo. Once that was downed Steveo had his legs back and was able to hold a wheel all the way to our first stop.
At the hotel, we wash our kit, but it's too cold and damp for there to be any chance of it drying, despite the old pros trick of wrapping it in a blanket and wringing it within and inch of its life. Most of us have few spare sets, but if the weather doesn't improve, we're going to be in trouble before the end of the week.
Tuesday
I'm riding up that Aubisque with Little Simon. The weather is damp and overcast with some mist around, but I'm feeling strong and hoping I can shave some time off my previous time to the top.
The Aubisque
After Gourette there is not the heard of cows coming down the road that I had to dodge through last time, but the weather has closed in again and if there had been a heard of elephants next to me, I wouldnt have seen them.
At the top I'm disappointed to see I'm 10 minutes slower than last year, I guess yesterdays 180km ride has taken its toll. We grab some food and try to warm ourselves on the charcoal brassier of a man making some sort of pyramid shaped donuts, Daryl gets too close and ends up burning a hole in his shorts. We learn that Steveo was been paced up the last section of the climb by a local dog.
No Hole In My Shorts
I set off again dreading the descent down the Cirque Litoral and to the base of the Col du Solour. It's challenging enough in good weather, but in heavy rain and mist, its a nightmare.
Col du Solour
The final tunnel is scary, fortunately it is short, but its pitch black and even with the sunglasses off I can barely see the road. . I welcome the climb up the Solour, if only to give my hands some rest from the constant braking effort.
The group splits once we reached the bottom, with Michael and John again taking the lead. The road to the town at the base of the Tourmalet is pure torture with a very poor surface and very gradual incline that saps the legs. The views are magnificent though as we ride along what was nearly the valley bottom and this helps ease the suffering. We stop for lunch in the Champion car park at the base of the Tourmalet and eat well, in some cases too well.
Lunch before the Tourmalet
As we start up the Tourmalet the weather is fine and its even becoming sunnier and warmer. Avi and I are riding together on the middle section of the Tourmalet. We were looking for Nicks van, which he said would be parked next to a cafe, 7km from the summit. We get to a fork in the road. To the right is the climb to the summit, to the left the road flattens off and heads towards the bottom of the ski station and lifts. To the left and in the distance we see a cafe and what looks like Nicks van. We turn left and finally get to the cafe, it is the wrong one! So what now, back track and add even more distance to the climb or press on, in the hope we can somehow find a route back to the main road and the summit? We press on and getting to the ski station we see the road we want, high up to our right, with an unmade gravel track leading to it. We reflect for a moment and then agree, sod it! Time for a bit of cyclo-cross. With wheels spinning and praying we don't puncture, we haul our sorry selves up to the main road and let out a big sigh of relief when we make it.
Those last 7km to the top of the Tourmalet were tough. The sun is out and I'm starting to cook. Avi drops back and I'm on my own. Looking back down the valley I see a cloud formation heading in my direction fast, very fast. It hits me like a tidal wave, my world goes dark, the wind pushes me across the road and the drizzle chills me. Visibility drops to a few 10's of metres as I near the summit and I flip up my sunglasses, I see little black dots floating across my field of vision, very strange. Dr. Paul tells me later than this is one of the symptoms of a lack of oxygen to the brain!
The Tourmalet Shrouded In Mist
This would also account for my seeing a guy riding up the Tourmalet towing a kiddie trailer with a dog in it, although all the other guys saw this therefore I must not have been imagining it.
This Guy Clearly Is Mad
Turns out he was a postman on a bit of a "busmans holiday". As the Raid goes on, I begin to recognise those 7 kms as a revelation. In the past, my measure of "are we nearly at the top yet" had been 2km. Now whenever I was climbing and reached the 7km to go point, it was as if I believed that the top was just round the corner.
Just as we reach the top a whirlwind hits and starts spinning all the furniture outside the cafe into the air. We take refuge in the cafe and agree that was a close one. After this the descent is relatively trouble free, fortunately not encountering the cows that seem to haunt La Mongie. Even better, our hotel for the night is at the bottom of the descent therefore not too much effort involved. Yet another cold damp evening means any effort to wash and dry kit is in vain. Over dinner it becomes very clear that the last thing the veggies in the group want to see is yet another cheese omelette.
Anyone For Another Cheesy Omelette?
Wednesday
Wednesday starts for me sometime Tuesday evening. Coming down from the Tourmalet I start getting stomach cramps. Who knows if its the diet of energy gels and bars or just the cold, but I've been to India often enough to know what comes next. The events of that night are best passed over, suffice to say, even popping Imodium tablets as if they were smarties has had only a limited effect. Wednesday morning dawns and I feels drained physically and mentally from the lack of sleep.
My woes are nothing compared to Stevos, as someone has kidnapped his rack! After much effort to convince him, hes better off without it, he makes it clear that hes not going anywhere and it miraculously re-appears.
This is going to be a long hard day. I skip breakfast and make up a couple of bidons of weak electrolyte solution. I figure that I've got enough fat on me to survive a day without food, but if I don't get any liquids in to me, then I'm done for. First climb of the day, I've driven before, so I know what I'm in for. I take it very easy and Little Simon stays with me to pace me up. I top out having managed to keep down 750ml and Im starting to feel much better already.
Onward and Upwards
The Col de Peyresoude is a new one to me and sections of the climb remind me of those in mid-Wales, I've tacked in training. I'm already trailing well behind the rest of the group, Little Simon is still pacing me and then with 2km to the top I puncture (the first and last time on the Raid). We make a quick change and pump enough air in to get me to the top, knowing that the van and a track pump will be waiting there.
The Col de Peyresoude
Topping out last, and not wanting to lose any more time, I top up my bottles and press on, next on the menu, the Col d'Portet D'Aspet. At the top of the Peyresoude, a big plate of Frites was on Craigs menu, something he was later to regret. Climbing the Aspet is an experience. The "official" start comes only after a lot of initial climbing, and then the signs show only 5Km to the top, only 5Km, little do we know! In the initial stages, we pass the Casartelli memorial and turn and give it a nod of respect. We decide not to stop as there is still some climbing and a lot of Kms to do. The gradient kicks up and whilst the average says 11%, its more like 15% in sections. This is a real grind, requiring long sections out of the saddle. Fortunately (?) our bums are so sore by now that any time out of the saddle is a welcome relief, no matter how hard the climb. 2 Kms from the top it starts to rain, a gentle drizzle to begin with turning in to a torrential down pour with thunder and lightning (and for some of us hale thrown in for good measure). We throw on our rain jacket and head down the mountain. The rain by now is so heavy; we are struggling to see the road. We go through a town and see some of the group parked up and taking shelter, we decide to press on, as we cant see this weather getting better any time soon.
After the Aspet - Bad Weather
My hands are sore and starting to cramp up from all the braking. We struggle to look through the corners to see a line, find some grip and control our speed.
Finally we make it to the bottom in one piece, the rain has eased off, weve still to get to St Girons and then theres another 30 Kms from there. We see a sign for "St. Girons 2Km", and we let out a sigh of relief, until we get closer and spot that a "1" preceding the 2 has dropped off and weve still got 12Km to go! We eventually reach St. Girons and ride past the bike shop where our Brevet needs to be stamped. Steveo waives us down, so we turn around. He has been waiting in the shop trying to have something fixed with no success. Not having much grasp of French. Steveo decides to crack on and we join him. Craig chases us down, only to ask where the Brevet needs to be stamped and then he heads back in to town. We make good time back to Massat. John, Michael and Darryl have all arrived together and have really been through the mill in the ride back to Massat, even they found it tough! They tell us that all they could do when they reached the hotel was laugh about what they had been through; it had been that sort of a day.
That evening the frites come back to haunt Craig. They say that food wise you shouldn't try anything new on a big ride and it would seem this is particularly true of anything that's been deep fried. We hear a story of someone nearly burning the hotel down when they hung a pair of shorts over the bedside light to try and get them dry, the shorts then fell on to light and started to smoulder. Also, in the way that seems to be accepted in France without any hint of embarrassment, we have taken to relieving ourselves by the side of the road, in order to offload the excess fluid we have not sweated away. One of our number we find out has taken this to extremes and started p***ing on a shop windows, we think we have an exhibitionist in our midst.
Relief Near Massat
Thursday
The day starts with the Col de Port, a nice little 13Km leg warmer that is soon behind us and then its on to the main business of the day. I've driven the road up to the Col de Puymorens often enough to know just whats coming, a fast climbing road, filled with drivers heading to Andorra for their fix of cheap booze and fags, whose only aim is to get there as quick as they can. The memories and the reality are very similar and the climb turns in to a long exhaust sucking drag. It's an age before the point where the road to Andorra turns off to the right and we continue on the now near car free climb to the top. Some of the group are already at the top and sheltering in a restaurant, some have gone ahead; others are still on the way up. With plenty of kms left, SimonO and I decide not to hang around and head down the near deserted road. We catch up with a camper van that kindly pulls over, not wanting to stop our fun.
Col de Puymorens
Pedalling out of Bourg Madame, after the descent, we are on a seemingly never ending straight stretch. There's a rolling gradient which has the effect of keeping the end of the suffering just out of sight. The wind is blowing in our faces and the speed is dropping, but it still seems reasonable, until I realise the computer is set for kilometres and not miles. Whenever we come to a crest, there is an inevitable descent into to some minor valley, where all our hard won climbing is lost, only having to be regained again on the opposite side. I console myself with the concept of "free kilometres". Every kilometre down hill, every kilometre I dont have to pedal; these are free kilometres, kilometres that come with no cost in terms of pain and suffering.
We're coming down the descent from the Mont Louis, Little Simon and I. We've got 6 kms to go before arrive at the hotel and we are starting to look forwards to the pleasures of the pool. It's been a long hot, hard day. Draggy climbs, even draggier "flats", never ending descents and heavy traffic, have taken their toll. All we want to do now is get of this hill. Steveo comes sailing by he's had a good descent and is enjoying himself. He puts about 100m on us. It's a nice straight descent, the valley side rises up to our left, a low wall to our right and a drop off towards the valley bottom.
After Mont Louis
Steveo looks back over his right shoulder to check for traffic. He looks forwards, drifts slightly to the right and his bar clips the wall. He rolls out over the front and goes head first in to the top of the wall. All I can think or say is F**k, F**k, F**k, F**k !!!! A driver in a car following us pulls over and phones for an ambulance, his girlfriend starts marshalling the traffic. Steveo is unconscious, but soon comes round. His face is a real mess. A local fireman, on his way home on his motorbike, pulls up and starts to check Steveo over. Then Dr. Paul turns up and takes over, he gives Steveo a thorough check over and miraculously nothing appears to be broken except for a few teeth and he's missing some skin on his face. The ambulance turns up 45 minutes after the accident, someone had got the location wrong and it was sent up the hill, not down it. They eventually get their act together and cart him off to the local hospital and from there to another private hospital, where there is supposedly a plastic surgeon standing by, waiting to sort out his face. Nick arrives; driven by the owner of the hotel were staying in at Prades and they load up the remains of Steveos' bike, rack and all. The hotel owner is a cyclist himself and I later find out he's covered some of the medical bills, leaving Steveo to claim it on his insurance and then pay him back; what a guy!
A Welcome Break (Pun)
Friday
Breakfast at the hotel is a muted affair, glad that theres only one more day to go, but sad were going to finish a man down.
We set off a cracking pace, it's hot and we are all heading for the beach. Nick leads out in the van, making sure we make no wrong turns. The group is working well together, through and off, through and off, everyone taking a turn at pulling. I look at my computer and we are doing 40+km/h. We are all relaxed and happy to be on the road, the weather is warm and sunny. The camera's come out and Michael helps by taking some action shots in the style of the motorcyclists in the Tour i.e. he's at the front of the group and taking pictures from over his shoulder, he is one good cyclist (must be all the commuting he does).
Team Raid Perfects "Through and Off"
There's 90 Km to go and theres no way we can all keep this pace up, but for a brief moment, we are flying. At one stage John is racing with Nick in his van, it's a bit like motor-pacing. John is flying and I think Nick was having some problems in keeping in front of him. Michael and Daryl join in the fun whilst the rest of us adopt a steadier pace. The flat lands are behind us once again, we have the rolling coast road to contend with, and we though the climbing was over!
The traffic and the climbing splits the group up, strung out on the road overlooking the sea. Climbing around the coast, the gradients are short and steep, more like the hills weve trained on in the UK than the Cols of the past week. The group eventually splits on one of the climbs as John applies some speed (what acceleration !), some of us are caught out in the wrong gear and John, Michael and Daryl take the lead putting some distance from the rest of us who are spread out each going at our own pace.
Is That the Med?
This distance is not too bad aand with end in sight it is as though we all 'needed some private space just to come to terms with what weve been through and achieved over the last 5 days, (either that or we are happy for some distance between each other due the damp and musty smell of each others kit becoming too much to bear).
There's a small picnic site, just before the Cerberes sign and Michael, John and Daryl are sat there, waiting for the rest of the group to come in.
Michael, John, Daryl & Co.
With everyone together, we ride past the sign and down into town as a group, a tribute to the camaraderie that has built up within the group. Nick is speechless, in 15 years he tells us this is the first time everyone has come in together. We dip out toes in the Mediterranean, have a well deserved drink, and toast Steveo, the missing man, if anyone deserved to finish it was him!
The Mediterranean Sea
A Well Earned Beer!
The dinner is more of a celebration, than a last supper and the Veggies finally get to eat something other than omelettes.
Seafood - Mmmmm!
To top it all off, Steveo arrives in an ambulance. Despite the lack of teeth, we are glad to see his appetite is undiminished, only to later find out that hes not eaten for 24 hours. He regales us with an unhappy tale of the French medical services, compounded by his inability to speak French and their inability to speak Australian, but still he manages to smile.
Saturday Post-Raid
We have a leisurely breakfast and say our goodbyes, before either head for home or in some lucky peoples case, continue their holidays.
Post-Pyrenean Blues
Not only did we appreciate the time spent together before the ride, which allowed the group to bond together, but its also been nice to unwind together, now that its all over. Credit to Nick for a gentle touch organisational style. Overall it felt much more comfortable riding on French roads, with a seemingly greater degree of respect being shown between car drivers and cyclists: either that or there were just less cars on the road.
Photo credits: Craig, Steveo, John, Avi, Paul and Jamie
Big thanks to: Nick and Dom, at BikePyrenees (www.bikepyrenees.com) and Sally and Austin at (www.cyclepyrenees.com/)
Big Simon and Little Simon
Team Cyclosport UK