I’m not going to get into what makes humans do stupid things in life, like the Etape du Tour, but whatever it is, I sometimes wish I could find the ‘off’ switch.
This year’s Etape looked fairly mild, especially when compared to epic ones like ‘Act Two’ in 2012. After all, there were only two big climbs and the whole event was less than a Century (148 km). But, as you can imagine already, looks can be deceiving. It all started with an Orange Alert from Météo France and this email from the organizers of the event.
Their ‘warm’ recommendation was taken to heart and I’m sure that all the gloves, rain gear and ‘hot clothes’ were sold out of the Village on Saturday. It was definitely a topic of conversation for the 4 of us (myself, Karsten, Anne and Pierre), with some saying they wouldn’t ride if it was raining in the morning, others reserving judgement till the day, and at least one prepared to go anyway (paid good money, dammit!). Pierre and his wife Ginette did a recce of Tourmalet on Saturday in the car and met a good many Brits who had decided to ride the route the day before, then go home. They were the smart ones.
It all began quite nicely, though. Here is Karsten on Friday, kindly adding some context to a photo I wanted in the event village.
We even found a beer tent and some grass to sit on to watch the end of Friday’s TdF stage.
Saturday was spent shuttling cars to and fro and trying to find a weather website that would tell us something good for the next day. None did, but all of us showed up at the crack of dawn to join nearly 10,000 other riders, from 94 different countries, in Place de Verdun, Pau.
Like I wrote above, almost 10,000 started the race. 8452 finished. 1500 riders succumbed to the cold and rain, or something else. How the heck did the organizers get them all off the mountain..?
It was an eventful day for most everyone, I think, but I only have four tales to tell here. If any readers would like to share their war stories in the comments section, be my guest!
I was – luckily it turned out – in the 2nd wave of riders who started. This had at least two distinct advantages: 1) I beat the worst of the weather, and 2) I had faster riders to hide behind on the flat-ish 70 km run-in to the first climb.
That run-in did have two categorized climbs, however, with a couple more smaller ones thrown in to slow the overall pace and keep pelotons from staying together. Till the foot of Tourmalet there is little to talk about, except for my chance meeting of a blog reader. After an hour and a bit I turned to a friendly-looking rider next to me and demanded to know how many kilometers we’d done to that point (I forgot my Garmin, so was riding ‘blind’). He told me and we chatted for a couple of seconds before he said ‘you look familiar’. I figured I had one of those faces, but it turned out that he reads the blog. Witt from Poland, if you’re there, can you send me that photo your girlfriend (wife?) took of us afterwards (I found my bike, btw!)?
If this next part is TMI, I apologize, but it’s crucial to the story. I had pretty bad diarrhea on the morning of the race and it sucked some energy out of me. When I hit the bottom of Tourmalet I knew something wasn’t quite right. I was turning the pedals, climbing up the mountain, but I couldn’t push like I normally would. This was the hardest climb of the day for me and I had the impression that everyone was flying by me. It was sort of depressing, to tell the truth.
But I made it to the top in the beating cold rain, zipped up my wind vest and proceeded to crash on my first turn. To make matters worse, I crashed on – and into – sheep shit. It was a crappy day so far. I was alright, other than cuts on my elbow and hip (found later), but my bike took a hit and caused some grief on the final ascent.
The descent off Tourmalet is probably the thing everyone is telling tall tales about this week to anyone who will listen, so I’ll do the same. First, after the shock of my fall, I had to decide to not ‘lose my nerve’, as you hear the commentators saying all the time when it happens to pros. Luckily I have little common sense on the bike and I made up as many places as I lost, and some more, on that 40 km descent to the base of Hautacam. But it was COLD. Oh, and WET. I had the shakes till I hit the feed zone 52 minutes later. Others had worse, as you’ll see, if you can get through the rest of this article.
The last climb of the day, Hautacam, is 14 km long, with an average of 7.8%, which makes it very comparable to Alpe d’Huez. It was a tough old climb. At the beginning – a sharp right-hander that ramps up off the main road from Tourmalet – there were hundreds of people cheering us on. I have never seen anything like it in my four Etapes and the line of people wasn’t limited to that ramp, either. For hundreds of meters there were folks along the side of the road, clapping, ringing cow bells, giving high fives. It gave you a lift that 11% couldn’t even dampen…for a minute or two.
I quickly discovered something about my fall on the top of Tourmalet; my bike was damaged. I couldn’t get into my last 3 gears. I dismounted and reefed on the derailleur to see if I could straighten it out and, unbelievably, it worked, sort of. I could now access all gears except one, the most important one of course. I had to climb in my 25, which could have been worse, but it definitely slowed me down. I did feel a bit better on Hautacam than on Tourmalet, but still lacking that umph that I can muster from time to time. Maybe my umph just isn’t present this season. It would make some sense, after the lackluster training I’ve been doing. It should make me feel good that hard, consistent training pays off. It should.
But I feel just fine about my results (see below) and have vowed to try and see how hard it might be to knock on the door of top 5% of my age category some day.
I saw Karsten as I descended Hautacam (the ‘village’ was in town at the bottom of the climb, so we had to go back down the same route as everyone else was climbing) and he looked in good spirits. It was only later, back at the car, that I learned that he had just gone through the coldest day of his life. This is from a guy who used to do winter backcountry camping in British Columbia (that’s in Canada, so you know it’s cold). He spoke of his ‘shattering teeth’ on the descent off Tourmalet, but I can confirm that they were still in his mouth as of Monday morning.
Other than the cold and wet, Karsten’s race went quite well. He had a great time up Tourmalet, I see from the splits, and although he never talked about ‘next year’, I also didn’t hear ‘never again’.
Anne took the ‘most eventful’ prize on the day. She started very fast and had a super time up to the top of the Col du Tourmalet. Then, apparently, everything went south. She was so cold on the descent that she stopped in Barèges and asked a police woman to help her out.
She was taken to a sports store (InterSport – give these guys your business if you’re ever in town!), where there were already other cyclists wrapped up in emergency blankets and trying to get warm. Anne said that the owner was giving out fleeces and other warm clothes to the poor souls, without, I gather, asking for anything in return. Customers came into the store thinking they were going shopping and ended up handing out hot tea and consoling shivering, skinny cyclists.
After a while the store got too full and the town decided to open a community center for the overflow. According to Anne, there were hundreds of bikes on the floor of this place. I got a text from her after I finished, saying she was ‘wrapped in a space blanket’, so I figured we’d go and pick her up (I wasn’t thinking clearly…the road was closed) later, but then, a couple hours later, I get a call saying that she was at the feed zone at the beginning of the last climb. She had thought to stop (the car was parked just across the river), but saw all those wonderful people lining the road and found her mojo. She finished pretty far down in the rankings (she was in Barèges for an hour and half) obviously, but she finished the whole course. Bravo.
Pierre (1st person account)
I thought the one two years ago, again at Tourmalet, was the worst I could ever experience but I believe I can honestly say that this one will win.
The day before started out with a group dinner to enjoy a nice salad and discuss any last minute advice one might have. We all knew the kind of weather we may have to deal with but I don’t think we had a sense of how dire it would turn out.
After starting in Pau in somewhat warmish weather, I started out by having to ride from the last closed point, where my wife dropped me off, before Place Verdun for the Grand Start. The number of riders participating are always a mystery to me but I was told it was in the 11000 range. I was in Pen 6 of 13, with each Pen holding 1,000 riders each, which meant I had some time to kill before my official start.
I started out getting in a group leading out to the first of two category 3 climbs which weren’t very long but somewhat steep. This is where I took a fall. It’s been a bad year for me on that front but with thousands of riders, and some who don’t always pay attention, I had someone cutting me off which caused me to hit his wheel and take a fall on the second of these climbs. I would suggest for anyone that this happens to, to learn how to swear in French. It’s much more animated and lets even those who don’t speak French know that you’re pissed at them.
As I mentioned, this is my third Etape, and I felt the crowds lining the route through each village was the most enthusiastic I have ever encountered. The ride through Bagneres de Bigorre had to be the most amazing experience of enthusiasm an amateur cyclist will ever enjoy. The town center was jammed with people on both sides with a live band and fans signing Basque songs. I wish I could have stopped to enjoy it more.
One planned stopped before Tourmalet to fill up a water bottle and get some needed nourishment. Up to this point I was feeling fine but had no urgency as to my position and how fast I was going to get up Tourmalet. I was feeling somewhat anxious and knew that the rain was going to start on the way up, which it did. I felt good and passed some and was passed by others, my breathing was under control and my legs felt strong. I finally made it up without much of a stop but just enough time to stretch out my back which was causing me some concerns. I also suffered a bit of a bruise on my right glute from the fall which was also starting to annoy me.
It was now time for the descent and I was warned by the security people at the top to be very cautious on the way down. I had seen numerous ambulances on the way up and I also heard there was a helicopter evacuation.
I thought I was ready for this descent but I was not ready for what I would experience as a cyclist. Being already wet as I was and more rain on the descent meant I was going to apply the brakes for the next 25 kms. I have never been so cold on a bike as I was having violent shakes and my lips starting to turn blue. It was enough to make a grown man cry! I finally stopped at the mountain village where they had set up a warming tent with coffee and hot chocolate. I did not take them up on this since the one thing I wanted to do was get off this damn Mountain as quickly as possible. I could not turn my legs very well on this descent and my legs were seriously cramping along with my lower back. I was not having a good time and had seen numerous people along the side of the road who had stopped and were being treated for hypothermia. There were also numerous people who had already abandoned this race altogether. This was one thing I was not going to do and just kept moving as quickly as my body would allow.
As we got to the false flat on a downward slope, my left pedal clip kept popping out making it difficult to keep a solid stroke going but this kind of stuff happens.
I finally got to the base of Hautacam where a huge crowd was waiting. Another awesome experience for those uninitiated with this kind of race in France. The last feed station and a quick bite before the climb. Hautacam, for those not familiar with it, is fairly easy for the first couple of kms but becomes relentless for the next 11 kms. At this point I was fairly slow going up with legs that were frozen and not much blood flow due to the cold. The back was achy but the crowds along the route was nice. I did expect this Mountain road to be so narrow and have so many little villages and homes dotting along the way. Its 13 km of sheer hell though. It started to rain again along the way again making it again more difficult. On top of this we could only use the right side of the road as the left was occupied with descenders. Very slow going for me and all I wanted to do was finish this and get the medal. It was another long rainy descent into the village to finally greet my wife and get some dry clothes on. I was trembling with cold but was happy it was over. I could finally get off my bike and truly walk as painful as it was. As I was walking I looked down at my brakes which were new when I started and they were completely worn down and melted from the heat and rain. I have been on numerous climbs in the Alps and Pyrenees and never saw my brakes look so destroyed.
I was happy with my result and what I had accomplished in the worst imaginable conditions. This was not about placement or racing today. This was about endurance and outlasting everything thrown at you. It broke a few thousands hearts today because most of these people worked hard to get here. This was twice that Tourmalet tried to defeat me and I’m happy to say it didn’t. I will have to wait and see what waits for me next year.
A Final Word
I’d just like to throw a shout-out to all the volunteers for the event itself, as well as the thousands of ‘fans’ that were lining the whole route. Your enthusiasm and generosity definitely helped perk up our spirits and make us all feel like heroes.
Out of nearly 10,000 starters, and 8453 finishers, here’s the damage from our little group.
Gerry: 988 (140/1437 in age category)
25 thoughts on “Etape du Tour 2014: Shivers, Space Blankets and Merde”
What fun. A great result for you Gerry and congratulations on battling through to the others. I think that you are a little ungracious to the sheep shit. It must have softened your fall. even if it did cause it.
You’re probably right, TP. Actually, my shorts don’t even seem to be ripped. I take it back, sheep.
Very well done and congratulations to all. As time passes, these sorts of days make the best stories. I now feel there is a hole in my cycling experience – none of my stories involve manure.
I’m glad to hear you are collecting subjects for your great return to blogging. 1. Leg shaving. 2. Crap. You are on your way…
You are … all of you … inspirational riders and people. What astounding stories! Whenever I am facing my little (I promise they are little) challenges I will think of you. Maybe some day I will be able meet each of you, that would be such a treat. Gerry, thank you for including everyone’s story and please pass my congratulations on. I have nothing to say sbout shit except that it is slippery and may have caused your fall.
Understandable, Suze. It was a long article! With nearly 15% abandons, we are all just happy to have that medal and be in one piece!
PS. Ooops, poor reading skills on my part, of course you told us the shit was in the road and the cause. My apologies, send me back to grammar school.
Well done to all of you. Gerry, U da man! I wish I could be ‘not at my peak and lacking in training’ like you. I absolutely despise the cold and wet so very impressed by everyone’s efforts. Congrats!
I owe it all to not having a full-time job, Luc! It was pretty cold and really wet. You most likely wouldn’t have been very happy.
To all, bravo!
Well done, guys – very Impressed! Freezing to death on a bike is the absolute pits, no doubt. Congratulations for pushing through all of that and getting over the finish line.
You’ve done plenty of your own freezing on the bike yourself, I remember.
Well done to you all. I’m never going to complain about the cold Canadian riding conditions again (well until winter returns in October)
Strange that I came back to this comment right now, when you’re complaining about the Canadian weather…albeit in November!
Hi Gerry, first of all well done for completing it. I did look for you at the start but given that you were in starting pen 2 and I was in starting pen 8, I didn’t really expect to see you.
Like you guys, we had a pleasant spin towards Bagneres de Bigorre but as we hit the town the rain started in earnest. Cleverly we had ignored the weather forecast thinking that it just looked like sporadic showers so we had left race capes in the hotel – doh! Arm warmers were all that I had. So from the bottom of the Tourmalet all the way up it rained and was very misty. The climb was fine, and I chatted to a very nice lady (Sue from Canada) who was riding at the same pace as me for the last 6km of the climb which alleviated the boredom given there was no view at all apart from bemused cows. I did give your blog a plug so maybe she’ll read this. Weirdly though we seemed to be the only people on the entire mountain talking. It was eerily quiet even though there were loads of cyclists grinding away.
Going over the top of the Tourmalet was very scary – braking was awful and I was instantly freezing cold being wet through. After the third hairpin I pulled over as I couldn’t control the bike as I was shivering so hard. A really kind French family were setup beside the road under a Gazebo and gave me a coffee – which I held to warm up – and a silvered space blanket which helped. An amazingly kind and generous act on their part which was very much appreciated.
I then set off again and was instantly freezing again.
By the time I reached Bareges about halfway down the Tourmalet I was really not doing well. A paramedic signaled at me to stop as he said my lips were blue. He directed me to a room to warm up. It was full of what felt like 500 cyclists with steam coming off them all shivering wildly. I spent 40 mins in there and met up with a couple of friends who were also riding but as soon as we left again we were shivering and freezing cold.
I have never been so cold in my entire life. Even running along the valley floor to Hautacam I could feel that the air temperature was warm but I wasn’t.
We swung into the feed stop for a couple of “forecourt favourites” French style and then turned right to tackle the Hautacam. As soon as we got on this I started to feel better, warming up within about 2km so that I could actually climb and feel my feet.
Then after about 3km I was treated to the best sight of the day – coming down the other side of the road having finished the entire ride was a chap on a Yellow Raleigh Chopper!! Three speeds and weighs a ton – a 70’s classic.
I thought: well if he can do it on that, I definitely can.
So the rest of the ride passed fairly uneventfully. I got to the top of Hautacam and even managed to up the pace in the last two kms finishing with a little sprint flourish. I didn’t do a competitive time, I was just absolutely delighted to have completed it and got a massive sense of achievement from it. Your blog has been a a real inspiration for this ride and training for it has helped me shed 13kg (and counting) since the beginning of the year, so thank you.
All in all an epic ride and experience and well done to all who completed it. Now all I need to do is get the feeling back in my fingers!
Guy, I can’t believe you did that whole thing without even a windbreaker. My vest at least kept the wind from freezing my core. Chapeau!
I wonder if that chopper guy is the same lunatic who climbed Mont Ventoux a few months back? We were there that day and saw it all (he did it in jeans, too).
Thanks for the account of your day. I really think you guys had it worse re weather because I never saw one ‘space blanket’ on my ride (but tons later at the food tent!).
Well done, and looking forward to hearing about the rest of those kg you are planning to shed. If you find the secret, let me know.
That’s a great read Guy and well done. Had me shivering just reading it.
Well written and congratulations to all for completing. It vividly reminds me of my Etape on a a very similar route in 2001, It rained all day apart from when it was snowing at the top of the Tourmalet.
I was close to hypothermic waiting at Hautecam for my clubmates. But I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.
Wow! Epic conditions yet all completed: congratulations! Gerry: now I know I will have to dig deep to hold your wheel on Ventoux in Thursday!
Ha, I’m a bit behind the times here, but i did the Etape in 2012, and it was a “challenge” wet and freezing on both the Col D’Aubisque and the Tormalet, I came off at the bottom of Aubisque. Took about 15minutes for the stars to disappear! But with respect to the sheep shit on the Tormalet, There was a river of it across the road just before La Mongie! When I rode it again a few years later the shit was still there, but dry this time. So I think there must be a local shit river there!! When I finished it in Bagnieres I found that my helmet was cracked right through the polystyrene, so hit the ground pretty hard! Ash.
Ash, I did that one, too. I think there’s an equally horrible blog article in the archives on that one as well. I can’t decide which one was worse, actually. We just spent a week in the Pyrenees and there was plenty of crap on the roads then, too, but it’s that much nastier when it’s wet….and on the top of Tourmalet. Glad your noggin is okay, by the way. What the hell did we do before helmets?