ETAPE DU TOUR 2009

Post date: Jan 15, 2010 8:44:17 PM

Ventoux gets its name from the French word for wind - vent - because as you struggle

upwards on the relentless gradient every now and then you get a little comforting wind -

before you hit the

bleak desert of the higher parts, where vegetation cannot survive and where you are hoping your

legs will!. The hot searing sun and the dead blast of heat which surrounds you in that bleak Godot

like landscape makes that little wind so welcome.

Club member Jonathan Flynn took up the gauntlet of this year's Etape, lining up in the starting pens

of Montelimar with 9,500 other riders representing 50 countries.Temeratures on the day reached 38

degrees with several crashes along the 172km race route.He did complete the challenge with an on

the bike ride time of 8 hours and 5 minutes. Of the 9,500 starters 2,500 were elimanated for not

making the designated time - so as the French say "Hats off!" ( Chapeau!).

This years race was won by professional rider and French national champion Dimitri Champion in a

time of 5 hours and 11 minutes with an attack on the lower slopes of the Ventoux.

Ray Jordan from St.Tiernans CC who travelled with Jonathan's group complied a report of his etape

adventure which gives a great account of the "Etape experience".

The Etape du Tour has been on my list of to-dos for years after watching the professional cyclists in

many of the last decade’s Tours de France. When the route was announced this year, I felt it was the

right time to go as such an iconic climb as Mont Ventoux only comes around every few years. As the

scene of many historic Tour dramas, it seduced me and riders from all over the world for the event.

This easily-recognisable mountain, standing out in isolation in the Provence region, has been the scene

of triumphs, tragedies and talking points over the years. Ventoux has witnessed the triumphs of great

cyclists like Merckx and Thevenet, the tragedy of Tom Simpson losing his life and the controversy of

Armstrong gifting Pantani the win in 2000. I hoped my visit would be one of triumph.

My trip began meeting a group of about 60 cyclists 4 days before the main event. These days were

spent training in the hills around Loriol near the host town of Montélimar, famous for nougat. My

introduction to the French mountains was swift and cruel, as part of a peloton of 40 riders, we made

our way up an 8km climb with an 8% average gradient. As I began to be overtaken as the climb

steepened, it was here that I realised my 39x23 would be too tough a gear to grind up Ventoux and

decided that the next day I would have to visit a bike mechanic to get a better gear system for my bike.

After 105km of hills on the first training day, the next days were not as tiring as we decreased the

distance and just kept the legs spinning, keen not to overdo it before the main event. The host

village in Montélimar was an exhibition of bike porn, with all of the main brands displaying their top

bikes, and I was glad I had left my credit card at the hotel as it was difficult to restrain myself from

buying a new bike.

The afternoons were filled with bike repairs and adjustments, relaxing in the sun by the pool, and

dinner and a few drinks in the evenings. Most nights were early, partly due to the €6 drinks and

the tired legs from the day’s spin.

At 4am in the morning on July 20th, we woke and stocked up on a carbohydrate-loaded breakfast.

Water bottles were filled and my St Tiernan’s jersey stuffed with energy gels and power bars. It

seemed strange applying on suncream when it was pitch dark outside the bus window, but we all knew

that we had a long day ahead of us. There was a mixture of excitement, nervousness and anticipation

in the air, as talks of the heat, crowds and the dreaded broomwagon filled the journey time.

When we arrived at the start, we made our way into our start pens. I was No 7500 and we were let

off in groups of 1000. I made the decision to try to cover a lot of distance in the next 2 hours so that I

could get away from the crowds, and joined trains of riders in the extreme left hand lane, as we

quickly made our way through the 6000s, 5000s, and 4000s right through to the 100s.

The three Categorie 3 & 4 climbs of the day over the Cote de Citelle, the Col d’Ey and the Col de

Fontaube were pleasant as the temperatures remained low and they felt more like drags rather than

alpine climbs with my new 39x27 cassette. The descents were fast as we snaked around the hairpins

from one small town to the next, being applauded and cheered by spectators whose encouraging cries

of “Bonne chance” brought a festival-like atmosphere to the event. We all still knew that we had to

keep something in reserve as we continued toward the last climb of the day to Mont Ventoux, the

“Giant of Provence”.

After about 4 hours of cycling, Ventoux appeared on the horizon, it’s moon-like surface shining in

the sun with the observatory standing out on top against the clear blue sky. It seemed so close by, but

everyone knew that there were a few more hours riding before we would conquer it.

The 17km descent from the top of the Categorie 3 Col de Notre-Dame des Abeilles brought us from

996m to the town of Bédoin at just 296m in the shadows of the hors categorie climb to Mont Ventoux

at 1912m. With wide roads and a smooth surface, I reached speeds of 77.4kmh, and was even braking

occasionally to stop myself from going any faster.

A short flat section gave us the opportunity to have some food before we rounded the right-hand bend

in Bédoin and saw the yellow sign which read Sommet 21km. Both sides of the road were thronged with

spectators from all over the world waving flags and banners as the road began to ascend gradually for the

first 3-4km.

As we entered the forest, it really kicked up. The next 10-12km would prove to be the toughest of the

day. By now it was shortly after mid-day and the mercury had risen above 35C. Perspiration began

to pour out more steadily and there was not much of a breeze as the tree density increased in the forest.

We snaked from one side of the road to the other for the shadows of the trees, however short-lived this

respite was.

By this stage there were riders walking their bikes uphill, lying in the shade of trees and looking generally exhausted. I was sipping water every 250m to maintain hydration levels, yet eager not to run out.

In advance of the professionals arriving the following Saturday, there were camper vans of Dutch, Belgian,

French, Spanish tourists lining the roads on this Monday afternoon. Generously, some even set up water

stations to give water away. The pompiers, fire brigade even turned up with spray machines to cool

us down as we continued up the climb.

We exited the forest and took our first close-up view of the famous lunar-like-landscape of Mont

Ventoux. It was time to take a few pictures and as I looked through the lens I saw a ribbon of cyclists

lining the rest of the hairpins all the way up to the summit. Fortunately there didn’t seem to be any

evidence of the wind which Ventoux is famous for, venteux means windy in french.

At Chalet Rénard there was a water stop and I pulled over to re-fill my bottles which were almost empty

again by now. I found a few biscuits in my pockets, which I gorged to fight off the knock.

Encouraged by the Sommet 6km sign I got back on my bike, and thought I had a slow puncture

as I pedalled away! I couldn’t believe it and decided that I would try and get to the top before the

air would run out. By this stage I was quite tired and did not want to have to replace a tube.

I increased my cadence and flew through the 5km barrier…another 100m up the road and I was

exhausted; it was back to grinding away again.

The last few kilometres were easier than the mid-mountain, yet the observatory still seemed so far

away. Going under the flame rouge it continued to tower above, and I realised there must be a

difficult last 1km to go. I could look back down the mountain and see cyclists continuing to toil their way

up. Yet, as we rounded each hairpin, the summit gradually got nearer until I recognised the final

right-hander and went for it up the inside. I almost kept my sprint going until the line but just rode over

casually in the end. There were no arms aloft, just a feeling of relief and satisfaction as I rolled over after

6h55 mins in the saddle. Juan Manuel Garate would complete it in 4h39 six days later.

It turns out my tyres were rock solid when I reached the top; I think it was my mind beginning to suffer

with delirium. I also put this down to taking a small crash into a barrier as I came down the other side,

suffering some cuts and road rash.

The crowds of spectators on the road are testament to the popularity of the Tour de France. There

were people from all over the world there to witness it. Over the next few days, at Lake Annecy and

on the sides of la Col de la Colombiere, I also experienced this, as I marvelled at the peloton’s talent

and saw their suffering first hand. It was a privilege to watch Contador and the Schleck brothers

climb up the mountain at the tête de la course and to see Armstrong drop Nibali and Wiggins 1km from

the summit top, right before my eyes. Nicolas Roche gave me a finger-wave as he came up in about

25th place and Cancellara put on a great show as he sat up in his saddle with both hands in the air

high-fiving the crowd after he was dropped off the back of the bus.

Overall, I would highly recommend a trip to the Etape du Tour for any amateur cyclist. In fact, it has

even encouraged me to do this again. It just won’t be the same watching it on television next year,

without the hype, the passion and the captivation of La Grande Boucle.