“Our experiences are a bigger part of ourselves than our material goods. You can really like your material stuff. You can even think that part of your identity is connected to those things, but nonetheless they remain separate from you. In contrast, your experiences really are part of you. We are the sum total of our experiences.” That’s what Dr. Thomas Gilovich, a psychology professor, says in a Fast Company article I came across recently. And it is exactly why 2015 was an incredible year for me. I collected many memorable experiences, and I feel now a much better person.
2014 marked the end of an era. I had spent the last four years working with the Beijing city government, teams, riders and many partners to organise the Tour of Beijing. Four incredible years where I discovered an amazing culture, learnt a lot and made life long friends. But all good things come to an end. The UCI’s ‘new management’ did not renew its contract with Beijing; after a 20 year stint with cycling’s world governing body, I was shown the door, like so many of my friends and colleagues. A good thing for the UCI? Time will tell. For me? I can’t complain. Here’s my new journey beginning in 2015.
We live in the Swiss Alps. Winter usually means fun in the snow and we had good conditions for ski touring and cross country skiing at the beginning of the year. I love both and many days start with a tough choice. Play in the powder, hop on the skinny skis or ride my bike?
One day I did not have to choose because I had better things to do. On January 16 I got married with Lillie. My life partner, my best friend, my training buddy…. The party was great and 2015 could not start in a better way.
Photo: PatitucciPhoto
Usually I try to enjoy the snow as long as I can and don’t ride much until April. However, this year was an exception. With the prospect of being jobless, I had signed up for the Transcontinental Race. When else in my life would I ever find the time? I needed to prepare myself for this gruelling adventure. So in March I embarked on a 5 day tour to the south of France and back to test my legs, my mind and my equipment. 1,000km later, I knew I could do it.
The Gorges de la Nesque near Mont Ventoux
I was back on snow in early April to participate in my first big ski mountaineering race: the Trophée du Muveran. I was pushed out of my comfort zone on several occasions along the 28km and 2,300m of climbing (and descending!) course, but I made it with the support of my teammate and friend Christophe. One box ticked from my bucket list.
A photo posted by A Swiss With A Pulse (@aswisswithapulse) on
After that it was all about the bike with many fun projects. In May I was part of a video promoting road cycling in the region of Gstaad-Saanenland.
Cycling tourism has huge potential in Switzerland and it is great to see that prestigious resorts such as Gstaad recognise it.
I also travelled to Provence with Lillie and my daughter Wendy for a few days of bike exploration. Good food, good riding and good company made for a great get away. And… Lillie was pregnant. Although it did not prevent her from climbing Mont Ventoux and she shared her story on Ella.
Almost there!
The Transcontinental Race was getting closer and I went for some more giant rides to get ready: a Tour du Mont Blanc in two days and a memorable Solstice Ride. 404km across Switzerland with Chris, Graham and Alan – my biggest ride ever.
A photo posted by A Swiss With A Pulse (@aswisswithapulse) on
Then I was off to the Dolomites for the Maratona. I love this part of the world and we had a fantastic time with a great group.
On Passo Valparola with Evan
The Transcontinental Race… a 4,400km life changing experience from Geraardsbergen, Belgium to Istanbul. No route. No stages. No support. But tons of memories.
The infamous Strada dell’Assietta above Sestrières, Italy
There are so many people I want to thank for their support: Lillie, the TCR widow; my friend Chris, who convinced me to enter this crazy race, and his wife Heather; CyclingTips, for giving me the opportunity to share my race with their readers; Scott Sports – the Solace was my best buddy for 16 days; Mike Hall, the evil genius who invented and organises the Transcontinental Race with his fantastic team; and last but not least the TCR racers, an amazing community of people from all walks of life sharing a passion for adventure cycling.
A photo posted by A Swiss With A Pulse (@aswisswithapulse) on
The stinkiest picture of cycling history with the day 16 finishers
A summer well spent. But there was more. A new house! Not a big move in distance (just a few kilometres), but definitely in our life. We have our own chalet in the Alps, a dream come true. OK, it’s an object, but this one will generate so many meaningful experiences in the years to come. And Gryon is a great little community where we truly feel at home.
The new A Swiss With A Pulse HQ
In September, I spent a week on the roads of Switzerland with Keith Tuffley and his wife Yvette. And I could call this work: I am incredibly lucky to be the Chief Cycling Officer of Grand Tours Project, the cycling holiday company founded by Keith. It’s a huge challenge and I can’t thank Keith enough for giving me this opportunity to create experiences on and off the bike, and share them with like minded cyclists. Have a look at our tours – which one would you like to join?
Keith and Yvette on the Oberalp
And if that was not enough, I was back on some of the big Swiss alpine passes in early October with my friends Graham and Jen for Roadtripping Switzerland, a story for CyclingTips. Another opportunity to showcase what Switzerland has to offer to cyclists.
At 4.34am on October 19, Benjamin Maurice was born. The best baby ever (no fatherly pride here of course). I see many biking adventures coming… Is there a family category at the Transcontinental Race?
A photo posted by A Swiss With A Pulse (@aswisswithapulse) on
After a good start in November, winter took a break in December and the snow went missing in the Alps. Climate change? In any case, a good reason to be back on the bike after 2 months of low mileage and complete the Rapha Festive 500.
A photo posted by A Swiss With A Pulse (@aswisswithapulse) on
Veloviewer tells me that I covered the distance between Paris and the Marshall Islands and climbed the altitude of Everest 27 times in 2015 on my bike, my skis and my feet.
2015 on Veloviewer
But that’s just part of the picture. Family, adventure, photography and writing were in fact far more important. In 2015 I learnt that it is never too late to reinvent yourself, and that experiences make you rich, not things. So… be ambitious. Be crazy. Be happy. Be thankful. And ride your bike, of course.
Happy New Year, and let’s see what 2016 has in store.
To stay up to date with the new posts on this blog, follow me on Facebook, twitter or Instagram.
I failed. My goal was to complete the Transcontinental Race in less than 15 days in order to make it to the finishers’ party. But I reached Café Hisar on the Bosphorus in Istanbul on August 9, 15 days, 20 hours and 25 minutes after starting from the famous Muur van Geraardsbergen in Belgium. No party for me.
Why? I was fit. I was well prepared: my Scott Solace was the right bike for this gruelling challenge, I was carrying exactly what I needed, and I had plotted the best possible route thanks to the invaluable advice of my friend Chris, a TCR veteran (without him, I would still be trying to get out of some Bosnian dirt road as I am writing this piece).
But I made “rookie” mistakes.
The “rookie” mistakes
1) I forgot my passport in a gas station where I had stopped for ice cream in the Rhone valley on day 3. By the time I realised it, I was already 60km away. So I had to ride back. That’s 120km added to my route, or approximately 5 hours lost.
2) On day 5, I was a bit too enthusiastic (read: fast) on Strada dell’Assietta, an amazing but very, very bad gravel road above Sestrières, Italy. It took me more than 6 hours to complete this 40km section due to 4 pinch flats. I had to walk the last part to save my only good tube, having failed to patch the others. By the time I got off the mountain, it was almost dark. I should have followed my friend Chris’ advice to pack a better, only slightly heavier air pump which may have saved me from the seemingly endless stream of pinch flats.
The Strada dell’Assietta. Barely a road, and it went on like this for 40km
3) The infamous energy drink. Coming into Greece on day 13, I was feeling very sleepy. This is one of the big challenges for all TCR racers. Riding 15 to 17 hours and sleeping 4 to 6 hours a day (in my case) is surprisingly manageable, but there are times when you just struggle to keep your eyes open. After a while, especially on straight roads, the ride becomes monotonous and fatigue starts setting in.
Coffee, singing out loud and sprinting for imaginary town signs did not work this time. So, instead of stopping for a power nap in a field, I decided to have a so called ‘energy drink’. Within half an hour, I was on the verge of collapsing on the road side. I barely made it to a gas station where I threw up everything. I thought I would be OK and kept going, only to ride into a giant thunderstorm. This proved too much for my body, which started to shudder and shake. My only choice was to check into the next hotel, spend an hour in a hot shower and crawl into bed, thinking that my race was over.
The next morning I was fortunately feeling better. I managed to get on my bike with an empty stomach, very little appetite and a constant head wind. But in this state I could only ride 200km that day, and I had lost another 6 hours, a lot of energy and any hope of making the finishers’ party. However I was back in the race and I knew I would make it to Istanbul, no matter what.
4) Last, but not least, I failed to recognise the very nature of The Transcontinental Race. It is a race, yes, and there are some very fast riders out there. The winner, Josh Ibbett, made it to Istanbul in 9 days, 23 hours and 54 minutes. That’s more than 420 km per day, and the guy is an outstanding athlete (read more on his blog).
But for the other mere mortals like me, the TCR is about crossing a whole continent on a bike, managing one’s own speed, abilities, mechanicals, navigation skills, and inner voice which is constantly pleading to stop. More than a race, it is a life changing adventure, riding through the most remote, beautiful places, and meeting amazing people on the road.
The journey
There is no official route for the Transcontinental Race. Just a start line in Geraarsdbergen, Belgium and a finish line in Istanbul, Turkey. However, you have to ride through 4 checkpoints in between: Mont Ventoux (France), Strada dell’Assietta (Italy), Vukovar (Croatia) and Mount Lovcen (Montenegro). How you get to the checkpoints is largely up to you.
My route on the race tracker
My route, plotted with the invaluable help of Chris, was not always the most direct one; but it proved just perfect. First of all, it used roads that actually existed and were rideable. Many racers ended up on dead ends, road works, dirt roads or mega highways. Careful research using Google maps, Strava heat map, Chris’ experience last year and common sense ensured I never had such a problem. I knew I could trust the purple line on my Garmin and almost never had to improvise on the road.
This route took me through breathtaking places which is why I struggle to choose the best moment of the race. Was it the Strada dell’Assietta at sunset, in spite of the problems I had there? Or crossing Slovenia, the most bike friendly country I have ever visited? Or the mountains of Bosnia, a war field not so long ago, the unexpected discovery of the trip? Or riding up a remote pass in Albania at sunset? Or the bay of Kotor before climbing Mount Lovcen? In the end, the route was about discovery, not picking favorites, and now I have endless memories of places I wish to revisit.
https://instagram.com/p/53i-fbJS4F/
The mountains of BosniaThe first sight of the bay of Kotor, Montenegro coming in from Bosnia
The people
The TCR is not just about where you go, it’s also the many people you meet on the road.
One of the few rules of the TCR is that drafting is not allowed. You must ride alone. But, with 170 riders all going from Belgium to Turkey on roughly similar routes, you inevitably bump into fellow racers on the way.
I never saw the top riders after the start. By the end of day 1, some were already 200km ahead of me (!). My game plan was to sustain a relatively fast pace by getting enough rest and sleep in hotels. That, combined with my passport adventure on day 3, meant that I spent the whole race catching people on the road, while some would pass me again when I was stopped. I also spent days without seeing anyone because of some specific route choices – this was the case in Bosnia on day 10. On that night, I checked into a hotel in Foca, a small town. What did I see when I asked the receptionist where I could put my bike? Another TCR rider’s machine. Kurt, a hardcore and friendly Flemish dude, was there. We had a chat in the morning, went our own way and met a few more times that day.
Kurt, the friendly Flemish dude
Did I feel lonely during the race? Sometimes. But there was always somebody around. I felt there would always be a helping hand if I had a problem, even in the most unlikely places. Like on the slopes of Mount Lovcen where a bunch of Italian tourists helped me fix a flat I was struggling to repair due to my numb hands (see below). Albania was another great example: my route took me deep into the mountains, away from the busy highways. But the roads were incredibly bad and the temperature rose to 42°C before a massive storm forced me to a stop. I found a gas station where I waited out the storm, had the best omelette ever, and was able to skype with my wife thanks to perfect wifi. I spent the rest of the day going up and down a beautiful mountain pass leading me to the Macedonian border. Every village I crossed was full of life: men chatting and laughing at café terraces, kids playing and cheering on me. This was in stark contrast with France where the countryside is deserted and I sometimes had to ride 30km before I could find a place to buy food.
The human body is amazing
I learned a lot during the TCR. About my continent, about people, but also about myself. In short, the human body is amazing. I trained hard but had never done anything close to this huge challenge. So I had no idea how I would cope with riding so much for so long. What did I experience?
1) The pains disappear. Perhaps the biggest issue I had during the first half of the race was pains in various parts of my body. Rain and cold in the first two days in Belgium and France were hard on my knees. Soon, my Achilles tendons became very painful. Riding a long portion at the end of day 2 in the aero bars strained my right hamstring. Sitting on the saddle was more and more uncomfortable. I was concerned that it would only become worse and I would eventually have to quit the race, like many. Reading their heart breaking story on the TCR Facebook group was not very comforting.
But, as new pains were coming, others were fading. The knees got better. Riding up Mont Ventoux and across the Alps meant less tension on the hamstrings. Frequent self massages and warmer weather healed my Achilles tendons. By day 9, my body was painless and remained so until the finish. My body was my best buddy.
Also, as incredible as it seems, my legs were never sore. Because riding for so long meant that I had to ride at low intensity. No KOM attempts. No town sign sprints. Just riding at a sustainable pace. On day 11, I rode 276km and climbed 4070m in Bosnia and Montenegro. My moving time was 12 hours and 54 minutes. For 11 hours and 44 minutes (91%), my heart rate was below 110bpm. My maximum was a ridiculous 123bpm.
2) Nutrition was an area where I kept making mistakes throughout the race. Gas stations are handy: they are on the road side and you can quickly grab food and drinks. But they offer a limited selection, and it’s almost all highly processed, packaged food. And you can’t race on only coke and snickers. Or maybe you can, but not for days on end. When your race is 15 days long, you need real food, not just sugar. I experienced huge dips of energy on days where I would skip meals and try to survive on only soft drinks, biscuits and potato chips. My energy was at a maximum after having burger in France, pizza in Italy, pastries in Slovenia and local, unnamed specialties in Turkey. So the lesson is: eat real food and the body will perform.
TCR nutrition at its best
3) The main problem for the second half of the race was a numb right hand. It is known as ulnar neuropathy, a common issue in ultra endurance cycling: you spend so much time holding your handlebars that you compress the ulnar nerve in your hand. The result is a loss of strength, dexterity, and sometimes pins and needles.
I started having trouble changing gears, holding a fork and giving change in gas stations. That was the funny part. However, it was more stressful to find out that it was becoming increasingly difficult to put my tire back into place when fixing a flat. I almost cried after I successfully did it at the end of a hard day spent in a head wind in Greece. The next morning, I found a bike shop and had my tires pumped up to 100psi. It ensured I had no pinch flats until the finish, but I reached the Bosphorus with a very sore bottom.
Now that I am off the bike and recovering, the hand is recovering too. Just more proof that nothing is permanent and the body can and does heal itself.
4) By the end, I became very slow. My ‘energy drink’ incident, instead of giving what the hype promises, took a lot of… energy from my body. By day 14, every railway bridge would see me drop to my 34×32. 18kph had become the new 25kph. My heart rate was rarely going over 100bpm, even when sprinting away from stray dogs. This was the body protecting itself, working as it should to keep me going at a very minimum with very little reserve. It was obvious to me that it was time to reach the finish line.
https://instagram.com/p/6GtdE9pSwh/
The last day
I started day 16 at 4am in Kesan, 280km from the finish line. The last day. I was relieved because I was getting very tired. I was also incredibly sad that this was all coming to an end. At 5am, I stopped at a gas station for some food. Everything was quiet. I was treated with the best toasted sandwich ever. It had the taste of the 4000km adventure I had just spent on my bike. At the table next to me, a worker was drinking coffee and his phone was playing traditional Turkish music. I knew that there would be tears on my last day but I did not think it would start at 5am.
An early morning start for my last day
I still had 260km to ride to the finish and spent the rest of the day in the pain cave, fighting head wind, stray dogs, endless rolling hills and big trucks on crazy highways. And I finally made my way to the Bosphorus and Café Hisar. Then it was cheers, more tears, and beers. I was a TCR finisher.
Last stamp on my Transcontinental Race brevet card. I am a finisherThe stinkiest picture of cycling history with the day 16 finishers
The stats
Total distance: 4’463.8km (279km per day)
Total time in lycra: 263 hours 14 minutes (16 hours 27 minutes per day while my goal was 15 hours)
Total moving time: 189 hours 40 minutes (72% of total time in lycra – not a great ratio compared to many racers)
Total climbing: 32’458m (2028m per day)
Number of flats: 8, 4 of which on Strada dell’Assietta
Starters: approx 170
Finishers: approx 82 (some are still on the road)
Thanks
This is not an Oscar ceremony, but I want to thank here the people without whom I would not have made it to Istanbul.
My friend Chris. You rode the 2014 TCR, convinced me to enter the 2015 race, taught me everything I needed to know in terms of equipment, logistics, routing. You turned a hardcore roadie into an ultra endurance racer. I cursed you many times along the way for dragging me into this madness, but can’t thank you enough today. You started the race with severe sciatic problems and were way ahead of me until you had to quit, beaten by the pain. Shaking hands with you in Cervignano, Italy and riding on to Slovenia was one of the hardest moment of my race. Get well soon, my friend.
Chris, my TCR guru. He came to Istanbul to welcome racers after quitting the race due to back problems
My wife Lillie. What can I say? My best supporter in life, and on the TCR. I spent so many hours training for the TCR, and you never complained. You were with me at the start. You were waiting for me at the finish. You spent 16 days nervously watching blue dot #20 (not always) moving on an online map, and worrying. I love you so much Lillie. And I promise you that we will spend our next biking adventure together.
Yes Lillie, I lost weight…
Heather, Chris’ wife. You were a great support to TCR widow Lillie. I will also never forget the poem you texted me as I was heading into the dark at the end of a long day to Ohrid, Macedonia:
There once was a man named Alain,
Who hatched a great cycling plan,
From Brussels to the Bosphorus,
My that sounds preposterous!
But if anyone can do it, he can.
Mike Hall, the organiser of the TCR, and all his team. As fellow participant Mike Sheldrake wrote on the TCR Facebook group: « Thank you Mike Hall for having the imagination, vision, drive and organisational skills to make this incredible event roll. It’s unique and born from the best philosophy. You have created far more than a bike race. TCR brings people together and changes lives. Keep spinning those imaginative cranks. »
My bike! The Scott Solace was a very loyal companion. Fast when it needed to be, smooth on bad roads, comfortable at all times. Zero mechanicals apart from flats which were mostly due to wrong tire pressure. Thanks buddy.
Last but not least, my family, my friends, CyclingTips and all my followers on social media. Your support has been amazing and gave me strength in difficult moments. It was fun sharing this adventure with all of you. Posting a daily picture and reading your comments on CyclingTips’s Instagram was the perfect way to wrap up each day and get ready for the next stage.
What’s next?
Getting back on the bike when my body has recovered. A new house in a few weeks. A baby in October. An exciting new job which involves adventures on bikes, for everybody.
And don’t forget: anybody can go on an epic adventure. It does not need to be of the scale of the Transcontinental Race – it can be your longest ride ever, a holiday to discover the Alps or a multi day tour with your best friend. But riding bikes makes happy. And it changes lives.
To stay up to date with the new posts on this blog, follow me on Facebook, twitter or Instagram.
The Transcontinental Race is approaching and my bike is almost ready. The latest additions have been lights powered by a front dynamo hub, and a very cool set of Apidura bags (more on that in a future post). This was a great excuse to test ride a really cool loop: the Tour du Mont Blanc, in 2 days.
On the first day, I rode from home to Bourg Saint Maurice, then over the Col du Grand Saint Bernard into the Aosta Valley, then over the Colle San Carlo and finally the Col du Petit Saint Bernard. My friend Manu joined me until Aosta which meant I had great company and there were bike riders on my pictures, not just landscapes.
I came back home the next day via the Cormet de Roselend, the Col du Pré, the Col des Saisies, Mégève, Chamonix, the Col des Montets, the Col de la Forclaz and last, but not least, the climb home to Gryon. No riding buddy this time, but I rode along the course of the Time Mégève Mont-Blanc granfondo between the Col des Saisies and Mégève, so I had plenty of cyclists around me.
The Col du Grand Saint Bernard is a monster, with 1895m of climbing over 41 km. The first section is long, mostly easy and fairly boring, until the entrance to the tunnel which swallows most of the motorised traffic. In contrast, the last 6km are bliss.
I made a last minute decision to ride up Colle San Carlo. The heat in the Aosta Valley was unbereable and the prospect of riding up to La Thuille on a big, open road was not very engaging. Instead I decided to follow Will Cyclist’s suggestion and go via the Colle San Carlo, even if it meant an extra 500m of climbing with long sections around 10%. I did not regret it, and the ice cream at the top was a nice reward.
I had already ridden to the top of the Petit Saint Bernard from Aosta, but had never been on the other side. It was a great discovery, with empty roads, lots of switchbacks and big, open views.
Day 2 started with the Cormet de Roselend. I climbed it very slowly, but not because I was tired; I took a lot of pictures. Every corner offers a different view and I barely saw a car. But I saw cows – I had to ride through a big herd on its way up to the high pastures. It felt like riding in a peloton.
I knew that I would ride along the Time Mégève Mont-Blanc granfondo from the bottom of the Col des Saisies to the finish in Mégève. At the start of the col, I asked a volunteer when the race was coming. “They are 5 minutes away” he said. I had the brilliant idea of seeing how long it would take the leaders to catch me. Turned out they must have been way further than that, because I saw nobody. So I rode the whole col at a sustained pace – and did not stop for pictures. In spite of a stop at the top where I finally started to see riders, I would pay for that effort later.
I reached the bottom of the climb into Chamonix tired, and probably a bit dehydrated. I literally crawled up to Les Houches, where potato chips and a Coke saved my life. But the rest of the day was much slower and I was very happy to finally reach home after the last climb from Bex.
It was almost dark when I got to my hotel last night, but I woke up to an amazing view of the Massif du Vercors this morning. Situated between Provence and the Alps, these mountains were a hotbed for the French résistance during the Second World War. The Vercors is also a paradise for outdoor sport such as cycling, hiking, climbing, cross-country skiing, and host for some epic battles on the Tour de France. In 1989, Laurent Fignon, in the yellow jersey, attacked with 23km to go to take 24 seconds to Greg Lemond in Villars-de-Lans. History would prove it was not enough and he would lose the Tour to the American by just 8 seconds.
Waking up in beautiful Vercors
My plan was to ride all the way to Geneva and catch a train home. I had briefly considered riding towards Chamonix and adding a day in the Alps to my adventure; however the prospect of climbing passes on my 34×27, a huge gear for a touring bike, was not very engaging.
Most of the first 40km were downhill and I arrived in Grenoble with only a vague idea of where I had to go, unwilling to open my Michelin map to confirm my route choices. Big mistake: I lost time, ended up on huge boulevards and pedestrian zones, zigzagging my way through the city. It sucked. Lesson learned: when touring in an unknown area, plan your route, plug it into your Garmin or have it on paper, stick to it and enjoy the ride. It’s all about preparation.
Finally out of Grenoble
Eventually I made it out of the urban area and found a great bike path towards Voreppe along the Isère river. A few kilometres later, I decided to follow a ‘Parc Régional de la Chartreuse’ sign. Riding through a park must be cool, right? Plus it looked like a shortcut on the map, which I finally decided to check after my Grenoble debacle.
It turned out that the ‘shortcut’ meant riding through some serious hills, starting with the Col de la Placette. In normal times, it would have been a mere bump (336m of climbing at 6% in 5.2km). But with a loaded bike, it proved another story. I crawled up as if I was badly bonking, except that I was not. I was just slow.
Col de la Placette
Eventually I got to a beautiful plateau surrounded by mountains and kept riding through woods, meadows and villages. After 20km of this, I could only see cliffs and steep slopes around and I was scared that I would have to climb a lot to get out of there (yes, sometimes I am scared to climb). Fortunately, the road went through a tunnel before descending into Chambéry. Like Will Cyclist, I am not a big fan of tunnels but I really loved this one.
We were in March, on a week day and I saw literally hundreds of cyclist further up on their way to Aix-les-Bains. I can’t imagine how busy this place must be on summer week ends. Is there such a thing as a bike traffic jam?
#bikelunch day 5Reflecting on my adventure while absorbing much needed calories
After another #bikelunch on the shores of the Lac du Bourget, I started the last leg of my odyssey to Geneva.
I was not too familiar with the area and did not want to stick to the big Nationales, so this time I decided to test google maps on my iPhone. BIG mistake. Whoever designed google maps does not ride a road bike. The route looked OK on the screen and there were some good moments on small, scenic countryside roads. Until I ended up in a waste collection centre in front of what can only be described as a bad single track diving deep down into a gorge.
I was so pissed off that I did not take a picture, rode back to the main road and opened the good old Michelin map which took me back on the right way to Geneva. By this time I knew I would not make it before dark but I had good lights and was not worried. In fact, I was really enjoying the last kilometres of my adventure, reflecting on how fun it had been to just eat, ride and sleep for 5 days.
I was in this mood as I was climbing towards Cruseilles after crossing the Pont de la Caille. Then, out of nowhere came the Red Dude. Red jersey, red shorts, red leg warmers. By the way he flew by me, I could see that he wanted to show me who’s boss. But he was the first cyclist to overtake me in 980km, and I was not prepared to let him go. Somehow I found speed in my touring legs, jumped on his wheel and hung on. I never saw his face but he was mad, I could feel it from his body language: looking over his shoulder, pushing a huge gear, breathing harder and harder. Several times he tried to drop me, but I was firmly stuck behind him. I almost raised my hands as I reached the top first after sprinting away from the Red Dude.
For a second, I felt like I had vindicated the touring tribe. There are so many sorts of cyclists: the racers, the week end warriors, the commuters, the bike tourists, the triathletes, the messengers, the BMX kids, the mountain bikers, the fixie hipsters, the trackies, the bike polo players… and many more. We all ride on two wheels, and share more similarities than differences. But somehow, we rarely mix. We belong to different tribes, each with its own language and culture.
All along the trip I saw many cyclists from different tribes and said hello to them because well, I am kind of like this cyclist. Very few said hello back. Many just ignored me, as if I was transparent. I was not, I just carried bags on my bike and wore MTB shoes. For the rest I rode the same bike, wore the same lycra and was powered by the same skinny legs as before. But I had moved to another tribe.
In fact, the old guys did see me. Old dudes are cool. They don’t care what kind of bike you ride, if you have a top tube bag, if your legs are shaven, or if you ride at 20km/h or 40km/h. They are happy to be out, they have nothing to prove and say hi to everybody. Is this telling me that I’m getting old?
Anyway, by not saying hello and trying to drop me straight away, the Red Dude perpetuated the ancestral rivalry between the two-wheeled tribes. And I did the same by beating him after a battle as epic as the face to face between Jacques Anquetil and Raymond Poulidor on the slopes of the Puy de Dôme. Did it feel good? Yes. Do I feel good about it now? Not totally. We should be one big tribe and celebrate our passion together, not against each other as it happens too often. Food for thought.
Last col before finishing in Geneva
The last kilometers were a fun, mad dash in the dark weaving through Geneva traffic. After 225km, I arrived at the station, hopped on a train, sat down and ate everything I had left, including a camembert. The commuters on their way home were certainly wondering about this bearded bike bum; it made me smile, because yes: I was a bike bum for 5 days and it felt great.
Conclusions:
I am hooked on ultralight bike touring. Ride, eat, ride, eat, sleep. Repeat. No emails. No social media. Just me, my fast bike, the road, maybe a buddy. In five days, I rode 1019km through 15 French departments: Jura, Côte d’Or, Saône-et-Loire, Ain, Isère, Rhône, Loire, Ardèche, Drôme, Vaucluse, Bouches du Rhône, Alpes de Haute Provence, Hautes Alpes, Savoie and Haute-Savoie. How could I ride a bike for 30 years before discovering it? I know, it’s a different tribe… Thank you Chris for opening my eyes.
I can finish the Transcontinental Race. I rode an average of 200km for 5 days without much training on the bike before (it was a good winter and I skied a lot). Now I ‘just’ have to ride 2 hours more in the morning and 2 more hours in the evening to get to 300km a day, and repeat it for 14 days. It sounds like – and it is – a lot but I know I can make it as long as my bike and my body stay in one piece. In fact, I am more worried about choosing the right equipment and being able to do basic repairs on the road than running out of gas.
Still there will be many rides until July, which I am looking forward to sharing on this blog.
I was planning to catch a train back home from Aix, but the weather was finally good, I felt great after riding 583km in 3 days, and I had time. So I decided to ride back to Switzerland… just because I could.
The plan for the day was simple: head north towards the Col de la Croix Haute and see how far I could get.
Time to head north
I had my first break just before Manosque at km54, along the Canal du Midi where I took this picture of my bike.
The Scott Addict in ultralight bike touring mode
For this early season adventure I rode my usual road bike. The frame is a Scott Addict that I have had since last year. I find it a great compromise between weight, comfort and stiffness. It also seems very well fitted to my climber’s figure: I am 186cm and 65kg. In spite of all the efforts of Lillie to fatten me up, I kept my elite racing weight – lucky me.
Part of this bike rode the Tour de France: back in 2010, I put my hands on a Scott Foil used by Kanstantin Siutsou in that year’s Tour in support of Mark Cavendish. I later changed the frame to an Addict and got another set of wheels, but kept the Di2 group (with a compact chainset). It has been my faithful companion for the last 5 years and I enjoy its accuracy and effortless shifting.
Chris dug into his large bag collection to lend me some for this trip: a rear Topeak TrunkBag mounted on a BeamRack, where I could fit most of the minimalist stuff I was carrying. As an ultralight bike touring rookie, I was a bit concerned with mounting the rack and the bag on the seatpost, but I had no problem and the setup did not move at all during the trip.
I also had a handlebar bag for the cycling clothing I was using during the day (wind jacket, warmers) and a top tube bag for wallet, phone and (lots of) food. For purist roadies, the top tube bag is a big no no, that the good folks at Global Cycling Network put on par with wearing underpants under cycling shorts.
I used to agree but after testing it, I am a convert. When you are riding 8hrs+ a day, having your phone and your food available in a top tube bag is much, much more convenient than carrying them in bulging jersey pockets. Believe me.
Another big style mistake frowned upon by the roadies fashion police: MTB pedals and shoes. I know. But again, practicality wins over style. MTB shoes are much more convenient when walking in supermarkets, climbing on road bankings to take pictures, and all the non-riding activities that happen when you spend 12 hours a day in lycra. And you can also use them as your, err… ‘normal’ shoes when going out for dinner or for breakfast. Although Chris told me that my white shoes were a bit flashy and he had gone for black ones for that reason. I call that ‘experience’.
I will make many changes before the Transcontinental Race, but this setup did work well. I don’t know how much it weighed in total (I am not a techie), but it felt surprisingly ‘normal’ all along. There is something special about riding fast and being self-sufficient – credit card style, that is.
#bikelunch day 4
I had lunch at km 109, and took advantage of the break to strip off my leg warmers for the first time this year. You know that feeling: your are ashamed of showing off your white legs, but it is so good.
Fashion police warning: MTB shoes and white legs shall not be tolerated
I got back on the bike and kept riding towards the Col de la Croix Haute. Rather than a proper col, it is a slow, 75km drag along the Buëch river with a 700m altitude gain.
On the way to the Col de la Croix Haute
Around km 150, I had a perfect moment: It was sunny, there was no wind, and the temperature was divine. I was riding on a small départmentale road that I had found on my Michelin map, which I later found was part of a local bike route. It could not get any better than that.
A perfect momentNo wonder this départementale is part of an official bike route
Shortly after in Serres, I sat down with my map and my iPhone to figure out where I would stay that night. Very few hotels were open in the area at this time of the year, and it turned out my only choice was an auberge in Clelles after the top of the col, 55km away. It was 4.15pm and I knew I could make it before dark – just.
From there the ride turned into a slow individual time trial up the Col de la Croix Haute: it was definitely not about staying at my threshold; the focus was to keep moving and be consistent. By day 4, all pains were gone: ass, neck, back, legs. I was not fast, but I felt strong. I was peeing less often. In short, my body was getting used to massive rides and it felt just amazing. Like I could do it day in, day out. This was a good thing, because this is just what I will have to do to finish the Transcontinental Race: 300km a day, 14 days in a row.
Top of Col de la Croix Haute – finally
By the time I made it to the col I was empty but I just had another 17km left, mostly downhill, to get to my hotel and make it a 211km day. Then it was the usual routine: shower, wash my shorts, eat a giant dinner, crash into bed.
It was raining when I woke up in Carpentras on day 3 of my French ultralight bike touring adventure. I did not mind too much as it was supposed to get better during the day. The plan was to ride to Bédouin at the bottom of Mont Ventoux, the first check point of the 2015 Transcontinental Race. Afterwards, I planned to ride to Aix-en-Provence to visit my daughter Wendy who studies there.
When I got to Bédouin, it was still wet and the Mont Ventoux was capped with snow. I had fancied riding up to Chalet Reynard, but this was not going to happen. The prospect of a freezing cold descent did not thrill me and I was clearly overgeared. You may think that 34×27 is quite small, but it is a huge gear with a loaded bike on a relentless 9% slope like the Bédouin – Chalet Reynard segment. For the TCR, I am planning on having a 34×32; this should be just enough, especially if I climb the Géant de Provence at the end of a 300km day, which may well be the case.
The Mont Ventoux in March
As Chris had caught a train home the day before, I was all alone. So, no more butt shots, team time trialling and TCR strategy talks. It was just me and my bike on deserted roads under grey skies. This may sound sad, but it was far from it. I was an introverted teenager when I took up cycling and mostly trained alone when I was racing. Riding on my own is my man cave: after a few hours on a bike, the most complex and stressful situations appear crystal clear. I get inspiration, I make decisions, and I recharge my batteries. I spent the first day after I lost my job last year alone on my bike, and the page was turned when I got home. I was ready for the next chapter of my life. Even my wife knows to leave me in my man cave from time to time for added peace at home (although, as a cyclist too, she very much relates).
I only had a rough idea on how I wanted to get to Aix from Bédouin, but one thing was certain: I wanted to check out the Gorges de la Nesque. Chris had told me that this was a great spot, and it was part of Will Cyclist’s 100 Cycling Climbs Better Than Alpe d’Huez. If two of my gurus thought it was a road to ride, then it was a no brainer. I was not disappointed: the road slowly goes up for 19km, winding through a splendidly desolate landscape. In summer, it must be packed with tourists. But it was March, and I barely saw a car.
The gorgeous Gorges de la Nesque
I was just caught by two cyclists as I was getting back on my bike after taking pictures. We had a chat, then they tried to drop me and failed: I had bags on my bike, but I also had a pride. They were only too happy when I finally let them go to take more pictures – or was it to catch my breathe?
I had my lunch in Saint-Saturnin-lès-Apt at km 83. Aix was about 60km away and I decided it would be enough for the day.
#bikelunch day 3
After crossing the Massif du Lubéron, I made my way to Aix in more and more traffic. Somehow I ended up on a highway, honked from all sides by cars speeding past me at 100km/h… I had to change lanes twice to escape. I had hoped for a more low key finish.
148km today. An easy day after 200km+ two days in a row
I met Wendy and settled in her student flat before heading out for dinner. Dad and daughter time with pizza and Apérol Spritz: I could not have asked for more after a day in my man cave.
The weather forecast last night was for heavy clouds and possibly rain, but we woke up to good news: the sky was clear. However, there was a south wind, and this was the worst day for it. Most of today’s route was going down the very flat Rhone valley until the turn off to Mont Ventoux, the first checkpoint of the Transcontinental Race (for more on the TCR, check the previous post).
Happy to stay dry, but less happy to battle the wind, we left our hotel in Valence at 8.15am to start our very own Trofeo Baracchi – adventure cycling style. The Trofeo Baracchi was a time trial for teams of two organized in Italy. Until it disappeared in 1990 (there was one more edition in 1991 but it was an individual time trial), the race crowned many campionissimi such as Fausto Coppi, Ercole Baldini, Jacques Anquetil, Eddy Merckx, Felice Gimondi, Francesco Moser and Bernard Hinault. Unfortunately, we are more grimpeurs than rouleurs so we knew we were in for a long, slow day.
Riding down the Rhone valley on a quiet bike path
We were taking turns to try and maintain a good speed, but we were not racing. So we stopped after 60km at a bakery in Tain L’Hermitage, had a pain au chocolat and bought lunch. There we met a nice man walking his dog who took a picture of us in front of a Nationale 7 sign. Known as the Route des Vacances, it used to be the symbol of holidays for French people before the autoroute made it old fashioned.
The Nationale 7 used to be the symbol of holidays in France
Then there was more headwind and we stopped on the road side at km 87 to eat our lunch, the very French pan bagnat.
gone from two pairs of long fingered gloves to short gloves
traded my winter hat for a cycling hat
got rid of my wind jacket
ditched the shoe covers.
It felt good.
You know you’re heading south when you see a Paris-Nice sign
Fortunately, Chris had picked a mix of bike paths, small roads and some bigger routes for the day, which brought a welcome variety to our windy misery. It will also be a good itinerary for the TCR, where riders tend to go for the most obvious, direct roads. In essence, these are also the boring, crowded ones. Our route will be almost as fast, and much more enjoyable.
We crossed the Rhone many times
It all came to an end after 122 km when we left the Rhone valley to head east towards Mont Ventoux. We hit some hills and found our first lavender fields.
Une photo publiée par Alain Rumpf (@alainrumpf) le
I parted ways with Chris at km 172 in Suze la Rousse, the best town name ever. He was riding back to the Rhone valley to catch a train home that night, while my plan was to ride to Aix-en-Provence the next day to visit my daughter Wendy.
In the last hour, I got some rain but nothing that could detract me from the exaltation of riding my second 200km day in a row, a first for me. In fact, I was feeling so good that I forgot to eat and badly bonked 2km from Carpentras, my goal for the day. Have you ever looked for a hotel in a hypoglycemic state? Somehow I managed to check in. Then I ate all the food I could find in my bags, had a shower, washed my shorts in the sink, went out for a huge dinner and an equally huge beer, and finally crashed into bed. I could get used to this life.
