Off-Itinerary: A World Heritage Site

It started with an idle minute, browsing a souvenir shop while waiting to eat dinner in Argeles-Gazoste centre the night of Race Day.  A plastic-laminated place mat caught Rich’s eye.  

The Placemat

Further study led Rich to exclaim, “Look at that picture!! This place is a World Heritage Site!  It’s the Yosemite of the Pyrenees!  We should go there tomorrow!”  

The store’s map section was nearby, which confirmed that “Yosemite” was within cycling range of Arzeles, and thus was born a plan to bag the Hautacam climb and seek adventure in an unknown part of the Pyrenees (unkown only to us, of course). The destination town was Gavarnie, 4,900 ft. elevation, near the Spanish border, from which a small road went up 8 km and 3,500 vert. ft.to Port de Boucharo and Cirque de Gavarnie (an amphitheatre of mountains).

By the time we finished our pasta, 5 of us were convinced.  It was a pre-determined rest day for me but it seemed like a good diversion, riding the SAG wagon and chasing my friends through majestic scenery.

Race Day: Up Tourmalet

We assembled in St. Marie-de-Campan, re-dressed for our optimum race experience, and prepared for a rolling start up Tourmalet.  Charles, as usual, was prostrate on the pavement, though on his stomach this time and in some sort of active TaeBo mode.  Nel hit her stopwatch and we cranked it up, slowly at first, then with increasing speed.  I had no expectations this year due to my ongoing recovery from knee problems but wanted to put in a good effort nonetheless.  Markham and Charles remained the best hopes for Team Atlanta and the Easties.  Rick and Howie looked to be strong contenders for the Westies.  The first 2 clicks out of St. Marie were easy and we chatted cheerily, but by km 3 the pace had ramped up and guys were rapidly coming off the back, with only Rick, Markham, Charles and myself in the front group.  At km 4, I made a tiny attack, totally false bravado, so I could say I lead the race, then wished my friends good luck and disppeared from their rear view mirror.

We hit the 8-10% slopes and I chugged upward, but before long Bill came to my wheel, then passed me, and I had all I could do to hang on.  After a couple km though, Bill blew and once again I was riding alone.  A km later, Howie reached me, riding his usual measured pace, then Rich, and the three of us yo-yo-ed for a short time before Rich attacked and opened a 20 m gap.  Howie kept to his steady scientific approach, using his heart meter as a metronome, and slowly I slipped back allowing a 20 m gap of my own.  That was the race for me, as the unrelenting 9 and 10% slopes simply pummeled me into a slogging cadence--and I already was in my lowest gear!

Rich and Howie increased the gap as we approached La Mongie and soon I was in no man's land, barely able to see Howie ahead with no one visible behind.  That allowed me to appreciate how utterly ugly La Mongie is and ultimately I decided to stop and share this realization through a photo.  It also sucked that the road never took a break--you depend on a certain flattening of the roadway in a town so, for example, people can get into a garage or turn onto a side street, but, no, no mercy in Mongie.  I suffered badly enough to deserve a result but, alas, only an attaboy awaited me.  It was slo-mo up the last 4 tortuous km and I was never more aware of my lack of training.  The rest of the story is provided by the participants.

Rick set the pace the first 10 km until, 2 km before La Mongie, he faded, leaving Markham and Charles to ride on, mano a mano, see-sawing the lead. Near Mongie, with 5 km, Markham stood up and slowly put down the hammer as Charles began to fade.  Encouraged, Markham gutted out the final 4 km to the finish line, winning by 5 min. over Charles.  Howie, meanwhile, turned up his metronome and began reeling in the flagging Rich, then Rick, and cruised to the summit for the last podium position.

Rich came in fourth, then Rick, Jack, Todd, and others.  So, Race Day 2011 is in the books, and we're once again dealing with the reality that we're not yet Tour-ready, at least not if Tourmalet is on Le Tour again next year.  Tourmalet is a beast!!!

We hung out at the top, a cycling mecca, and enjoyed lunch and the constant stream of other cyclists, for an hour and a half.  After re-fueling, a couple of us talked Jason into driving the van back down to La Mongie to buy some Tourmalet jerseys--nobody was going to ride a bike back up from Mongie!  The others headed down the east side of Tourmalet toward Luz-de-Sauvoire.  The jersey group followed a half hour later and, after 20 miles, we all reached our hotel in Argeles-Gazoste.  The day's talley:  57 mi., 7,155 vert. ft., 1 race, and 22 tired legs.

At the top: Todd, Chris, Markham, Jack

An ass about to get into a fight with a cyclist

Lots of Tour messages still on the road

La Mongie seen from the top

The road down--into the clouds!

The road to our hotel in Argeles was downhill.....

End of the day:  Charles in shavasana?

Race Day 2011--Prequel

We rose to a light mist and low cloud cover, and one by one we shuffled into the hotel dining room for the pre-race petit dejeuner (breakfast).  There was a lot of mumbling about lack of sleep.  Few of us sleep well the night before Race Day--that's how you know you're ready to suffer.  And those damned St. Lary church bells--if you are asleep, they will wake you, but worst of all you get to count the rings and figure out what time it is:  4 AM, 5 AM, 6 AM, 7 AM and you might as well get out of bed.  Rick noted the conundrum of the 1 AM gong.  Since the bells ring once on the half-hour, 12:30 AM, 1 AM and 1:30 AM all are a single gong.  You don't know the time for sure until you hear the 2 AM bell.  But you can spend 90 minutes half awake trying to figure it out!  

At 9 AM, we mounted our bikes and headed down the road to the turn off for Col d'Aspin.  This was the first Race Day where we didn't head immediately for the race climb, but climbed another mountain first.  For whom would this be an advantage?  Younger riders?  Those with more endurance?  10 clicks out of town, we turned right up the Col d'Aspin.  Except that Todd went straight.  From 400 yds. up the climb, we could look over the edge and see him riding down the valley below.  After a moment's deliberation, Rick turned around and went back to chase him, finally catching him a couple miles down the road.  They made it back to the missed turn and followed, at some distance, the rest of us up the Col.  (Note:  this may be a clue as to who did not get to the top of Tourmalet first)

We climbed Col d'Aspin at a comfortable pace, gradually getting into the clouds, then over the top and down a misty descent into St. Marie-de-Campan, the little hamlet where Christophe welded his forks in 1923.  That's the starting point of our race up Tourmalet, climbing it from the west. 

Facts of the road--every km on signature climbs

The cows were waiting to wish us a speedy ascent up Tourmalet.

On the descent, I saw my first trailer park in France.  Hmmn, Disneyland, McDonald's and trailer parks?

Day 3 - The Cows of Col d'Aspin

We learned today that things haven't changed that much in the Pyrenees since 1923 (see photo in 2nd blog entry, "The Pyrenees").  The roads are still cowpaths and splattered with cowpies.  Under another postcard-perfect sky, we climbed Hourqette d'Ancizan and Col d'Aspin this morning before some of us returned to St. Lary for a beer and others ventured on up to see a mountain lake.  I returned with the first group, satisfied with 4,000 ft. of climbing and 36 mi.--akin to 3 Gaps--for my first full day in the Pyrenees.  The photos tell the rest of the story.

It starts with a cow non-chalantly crossing the road in front of cyclists.  No big deal, except best to get off your bike and snap a picture.

Before long, the cows are coming straight at the cyclists.

Then the cyclists counter-attack!

OK, this isn't a cow, but if you look closely this ass has gotten into a fight, probably with a cyclist.  There's an apple-sized knot under it's right eye.  The small black spots are flies, applying their healing magic.  This really deserved a close-up photo but I was worried about a counter-punch.

Now, back to the cycling story.  The Col du Tourmalet lies on our horizon.  Tomorrow is Race Day, which means Tourmalet!  The peak in the picture isn't actually Tourmalet, though we thought it was for a while and like the drama of it.  According to Nel, it's Pic du Midi and Tourmalet is just to the left, unseen, behind the near mountain.

Rollin'!

At precisely 2:40 PM, the courier drove up with Jim's bike and my gear bag.  My whoops elicited a pleased smile from the concierge, who had become an implicit part of our missing bike drama.  Jim had left in the AM to hike with Jason, and they were nowhere to be found, so I quickly assembled and stowed his bike, then changed into cycling attire, checked over my bike setup, and sailed out onto the road at 3:30 PM.  What a great feeling to be air-borne, or wheel-borne, at last!

I headed through St. Lary, took a right, and within a km began to climb Col d'Azet.  The road was rough, narrow macadam that weaved up the mountain through small hamlets.  Bright sun, blue sky, few cars and lots of 8%-10% slopes came together in an "essence of the Pyrenees."  My plan, devised with the guys before they left in the morning, was to ride backwards on their planned route until I met them, then turn around and accompany them to St. Lary.  After climbing for 8.5 km, I saw a cyclist descending toward me and recognized Charles.  We hailed each other, and Charles said that he alone had decided to come over Col d'Azet--the others had turned and taken an easier route.  He was unaware of my plan to meet them.  Thank goodness for Charles and his adventurous spirit!  I could still be riding east, looking for the guys!  We are adaptable cyclists who stay open to opportunity as it arises--meaning we don't feel bound to the morning's plans.  This could occasionally have its disadvantages.

I finished the climb with an obligatory summit photo, then descended back to St. Lary the same way I'd come.  Intermittent loose gravel scattered over the macadam, as well as mottled sun/shadow on the road and occasional wind gusts unnerved me and I kept my speed under 25 mph.  If Ken Rosskopf can crash, I surely can, too.  It reminded me that I'm out of practice on my descending skills.Tomorrow it's back to the peloton.  What a boost--a bike and good buddies!  To the Pyrenees and beyond....! 

I

Bike Arrivee'

                                                                                Pyrenean peaks and ski lifts surround St. Lary-Soulan, a small resort town set in a valley at 3,000 ft. elevation.  It is 2 hours from Pau, and our launch point for the first 3 days of cycling.  The setting is picturesque; the town is ski-condo blah, except for a small town "centre" built centuries ago and updated several times since.  At night, a church bell rings out the hours across the valley, with a single peal on the half-hour.

I heard every church bell last night.  I think the frustration of no bike must be getting to me. Today, though, I rose to a cheerful sun in a sparkling blue sky and, voila', my bike box was waiting for me in the hotel lobby!  The bike box was tagged "Rush" "Rush" "Rush" three times.  Apparently, the baggage services lady at the Pau airport had heard my plea and arranged to have my bike shipped in the middle of the night so as  to arrive by 8 AM.  My joy was short-lived though when I realized that the duffel bag with all my bike gear did not travel with the bike.  What the hay???!!!  They arrived at the Pau airport together!!!  Another misfire--apparently the courier just thought the "Rush" box had to go, not the luggage beside it.  No shoes, no shorts, no helmet--I'm still unhorsed.  I assembled the bike just to feel its sleek lines and the anticipation of riding.

Jim is in the same situation as me, my buddy in frustration.  His luggage arrived last night, 24 hours late, but sans bike box, and via a separate courier from my bike.  Each courier round trip is 4 hours from the Pau airport!  Jim, the hotel concierge, Jason of Andiamo and I spent a combined 1-1/2 hours on the phone this morning to confirm that the missing gear bag and bike box had indeed arrived at Pau and would be delivered today.  Yes, 2:30 PM is the appointed time, they say.  Just enough time to climb the Col d'Azet for a 30 km warmup before dinner if all goes as promised.  Boy, do I need some hard pedaling to find my equilibrium again!

Meanwhile, we snapped a quick group photo before The Boyz mounted their bikes and headed for Col de Peyresoude, an arc on the Circle of Death.  The Pinarello Dogma with Campy wheels is the hottest tool on the trip.  Steve, the guy in red, let Jim and I pretend it was ours.

A little later, I walked to le Centre for a quintessential French experience, including a lunch of baguette, grapes and cheese, while waiting for the gear to arrive.

Hometown Airline

The Hometown Airline only charged $150 to carry my bike to France this year.  That's a savings of $150 over past years and, whether it was because the check-in lady appreciated my 3-hour-early-arrival or my good-natured chatter or simply made a mistake, I will never know.  More theories:  could a high-level Hometown Airline exec have given up his golf clubs for a bicycle, and then decided to re-look at the $300 each way policy?  Or could it be that, as Hometown Airline's customer service ratings continue to fall, employee training or morale is collateral (or causative) damage--that is to say, she just picked a big number and didn't know better?

Whatever theory you choose, my delight has been short-lived.  I'm in France and my bike isn't.  Apparently, the $150 "deal" doesn't get your bike on the same flight as you.  ATLANTA-DUBLIN-PAU, only to find out the bike stayed in Atlanta.  Hmmm.  It is now Day 1, with Day 0 being Arrival Day, and several of The Boyz put in a good hard 50 km warmup while I called the airport and hung out with later arrivees and helped Rich assemble his bike.

The word is Ol' Blue made Dublin last night but there are no flights to Pau today so Hometown Airline, with Air France's help, will fly it through Paris to Pau.  If all goes perfectly, it will arrive at my hotel before 8 AM tomorrow.  This could get serious....