Ventoux

Part 1

As the bridge of Avignon disappeared through the rear view window words from my childhood came to my lips.......  sur le Pont d'Avignon

On y danse, On y danse

Sur le Pont d'Avignon

On y danse tous en rond

I have never been keen on dancing but do love 'strictly'. I also like the way great cyclists dance on their pedals, effortlessly guiding up slopes like a Lycra clad Nuryev. 

I am not climber and can only 'dad dance' the pedals in my overstretched Lycra. 

With Avignon behind us my attention was drawn to the sky in front 

At first I thought it was a gull angled in such a way to catch the sun but soon realised that it was seemingly attached to a larger stationary form

It was the mast at the top of Ventoux 

So far up it looked ridiculously out of proportion to its surroundings. like a sand dune next to an over exuberant sandcastle.

I giggled to myself - an awkward nervous impulsive emotion with little relevance

We all dance there, we all dance 

The words came back in English 

 When we arrived at our gitte we found ourselves situated on a vineyard under the shadow of the seagull Monster. 

I was informed that Roman Bardet had once stayed there - he can dance 

But he only drank water

Cheers Roman 

I'll look for your name on the road tomorrow 

Part 2

In the circus world it's traditional for the lion tamer to visit the cage just prior to the performance.

Apparently to say a few words to their maned beast, and look him directly in the eye.

Although lacking the knowledge i can imagine that they would say something  like 'I want no blood spilled today please'

The evening before tackling my own beast, I visited the FBR (French bike  Rental) shop opposite the starting point. 

To my delight the shop owner said I could take my bike that evening at no extra cost........

Great I thought

But 'Monsieur byciclette' had not finished speaking.

'Unfortunately the bike you wanted with disc brakes is broken so we have upgraded you to one with Di2,  it's only got standard brakes but is slightly lighter.

I was not happy

Having Di2 on Ventoux is similar to having a Rolex watch that is broken.

It might look good but will only be of any use  twice a day.

In my case climbing up in your lowest gear and then descending in your biggest one.

As for being 'slightly lighter' if I carried one less inner tube it would have had the same effect. In the grand scheme of things it makes no difference when your of a similar weight to a 'deux chevaux'

Although I thanked him, he had read my mind and smiled wryly.

I set off at 8:30 giving enough chance for the September sun to illuminate the Rhone valley and to take away the morning chill. 

Although the season was drawing to its close I was staggered by the assortment of masochists that accompanied me. Some were notably heavier than me, most much lighter, all ages, gender and nationalities each sharing the same goal and a slightly nervous disposition

 The first few km are benign where you can ride with your head up and admire the views. The mountain top to the distant north needed no introduction, It appeared to glow under the rays of the morning sun announcing its presence as one of natures heavyweights. 

Purple grapes tugged at their supporting foliage within the adjoining vineyards. Their ripeness indicating that they were close to commencing their own journey. Like me having their very life being squeezed out of them in order to achieve something seemingly greater.

On arriving at St Esteve my comfort zone evaporated with the 12% hairpin of the ‘Virage du Bois’ which took me into ‘The Forest’. The sort of forest I associated with Little red riding hood’, moody and menacing where things were not quite how they seemed. As a child it would have been great to hide amongst those vast vertical timbers, but for me now I was totally naked, with nowhere to hide. 

The attritional ramps were not punctuated with cosy soft bends but stretched out so far in front, that they caused you to look away.

About two thirds of the way up there was a break in the canopy and for the first time you could see the Summit. 

Its proximity was contradictory. 

Whilst is seemed significantly closer than from the valley bottom, the angle between my chin and my neck was at its absolute limit.

Clouds were now dancing across its form enforcing my view that this destination was somewhere way up in the sky.

My heart rate was already past threshold and had now jumped into the red through a combination of endeavour and fear. My legs ragged with revolution -not the motional one, but the angry kind. 

I stopped. 

There was a parking area next to this point which guaranteed that I would be able to clip back into my cleats and I used my age-old excuse that I needed to capture the view in a picture. I have lots of pictures.

After greedily sucking on the contents of my Bidon I continued plunging back into the forest with its linear purgatory.

The remaining kilometres to Chalet Raynard were counted down as symbolically as a captive awaiting his release. On my arrival I treated myself to another photo session and an unusual Cappuccino.   

This consisted of an espresso with and aerosol derived topping. 

Clearly the trauma of the climb had put me in a state of submission as I did not even flinch as the spray can was crudely rotated around the top of my cup. 

The last section of the climb from Chalet Raynard to the top of Ventoux is spectacular. Its famed lunar type landscape lasts a total of 6km averaging at about 7.5%. The road reads like a reference library of cycling royalty marking many Tour de France stages that I have viewed in the past. I had seen this part dozens of times I felt elated by its unknown familiarity. 

 This feeling was temporary. The route to the top stretched out in front of me like a meandering river with a procession of different coloured heads bobbing up and down in agonised symmetry.

Although I was now approaching 6,000 feet the air felt thiner and my legs laboured with the pedals. I passed other cyclists pedalling squares and some had stopped pedalling completely. 

One poor soul lay motionless surrounded by paramedics and a bottle of oxygen. 

He was close to the Tom Simpson memorial and I was reminded that the challenge of this mountain has been the last for more than a few.

As I rounded the last bend the clouds retreated in applause at my arrival.

I was elated and relieved in good measure and ready for another photo break.

The time of close to three hours climbing was meant to represent another monument climb completed another tick off my bucket list. That would be doing it an injustice.

The giant of Provence is just that, a giant.

Something to be measured against, a yardstick for physical and mental adversity

As I descended I smiled at the thought of the new addition to my vocabulary 

Its not like ‘Ventoux’

Learning from the Girls

One of the problems with any club is keeping all the members happy. 
It’s a  near impossible task, a bit like choosing a menu.

You think that you may have all bases covered by offering both meat and vegetarian dishes but forget about the poor old pescetarian. 

There will always be somebody who is not totally satisfied, so trying to please the majority is often the compromise.

This is certainly  very true for cycling Clubs.

When we first set up our own club ‘The Mules’ - it was simple.

We just wanted to ride with our mates, explore the countryside and take part in a few charity rides.

As cyclists we collectively have similar motivations to ride, but like many things they change over time. 
I love chocolate profiteroles but I would not want them every week.

With changing personal ambitions the initial collective spirit of a group can be undermined. As individuals we are influenced by our own personal goals, aspirations and egos which are not always compatible. If we let them take over our riding and go unchecked, it  can,  and does  effect the dynamic of a cycling club.

Some of us had previously suffered  at other clubs with higher testosterone levels, which lead to our respective departures.

I am sure you’ll know of clubs where individual ride times, effort and achievements become seemingly more important than assistance, support, nurturing and the overall collective experience. 

What’s  more rewarding - helping out a mate who is having a hard day in the saddle?
Or riding just out of reach, detached from everyone?

Thankfully we try to resist that attitude and cling on to an ‘inclusive’ principal, It’s not always easy.

Ego and machismo are predominantly male traits,  part of our DNA.
When harnessed properly they can be useful,  but often they are not.

I suspect that these  characteristics are also an influencing factor in when female cyclists look to join or remain within certain cycling clubs.

It does not surprise me that as cycling has grown in popularity across both genders that we have seen an explosion of women only cycling clubs.
 With the exception of football it appears that such cycling clubs out number any other sport, in respect of locations accessibility and overall numbers.

They appear to have the same motivational factors to ride as us men without the testosterone. Unshackled they appear to be able to ride with a smile rather than a grimace or snarl. 

During a recent Mouvember Sportive I met up with some of the ladies from the Wetherby based "Yorkshires Lasses Cycling Club" and asked them about there experiences and how they formed

They epitomise all that is good about group cycling, by keeping it simple.

They are ladies that like to cycle, socialise and have some fun on two wheels.

 The club was set up due to the founders having had mixed experiences in other clubs and felt that a ladies only club would be more encouraging and less competitive.
 Set up by Kate Horsfall and Judith Worrall, two good friends who wanted a club just for women, run by women to encourage ladies to get out on their bikes have fun, get fit, meet new friends and more importantly with a bit of cake indulgence thrown in!!

The club was set up in March 2015 and within a few months had 60 ladies joining, way above any expectations that Kate and Judith had, and highlighting a demand for women only clubs  and how many women are getting  into the sport.

 "The secret to the clubs success is that we are just all normal ladies (some a little bonkers!) with busy lives, family and work commitments. 

We are not super fit athletes, chasing stats and trying to keep up with each other.

 We are a group of lasses who like to meet up and ride our bikes, stop for a cuppa and some cake and have a giggle along the way. We have different abilities in the club and try to mix our rides so we offer something for everyone, from sportives, club rides and mountain biking. We also offer beginner rides for those who may not have been out on their bikes for a few years, and want to start building up those miles. We normally have a mix of rides, both mileage and elevation wise every Sunday, and try to all meet at the same cafe stop when routes permit.

They even cater for those who want a bit more without compromising their spirit.

"We all have our own personal goals just like any other club rider, and give ourselves a hard time when we struggle on hills, but the main thing is we encourage each other to improve and have fun on the way."  

"We have a good social life within the club on and off our bikes,which  highlights the success of the club. Members now actually enjoy spending time with each other, not just racing each other on the tarmac or out splashing through the mud.

Just because the lasses have fun doesn’t mean that they don’t challenge themselves – a few lasses wanted to challenge themselves and planned 100 mile rides in 2015, others cycled 400km across Tanzania, a 100km night ride in London will be done by some in May this year, and plenty of sportives have been entered too.

It seems there is no stopping these Yorkshire Lasses as within their first year they are also organising a sportive in aid of three women’s cancer charities, Breast Cancer care, Jo’s Cervical Trust and Ovarian Cancer Action. 

Three routes are being offered a 30, 60 and 103 miles. So far over 50 ladies have signed up for the sportive which will be a non competitive event, yet challenging enough on some routes for those ladies that want to push themselves. The shorter routes also cater for those wanting to do their first sportive. Anyone interested in entering can do so here https://www.britishcycling.org.uk/events/details/140445/Yorkshire-Lass-Annual-Charity-Sportive

This month the club welcomed its 100^th member and is going from strength to strength, with their sportive in August and 1^st anniversary in March - 2016 is certainly looking like an exciting year for the Yorkshire Lasses.

These girls certainly know how to have fun and enjoy their two wheels

To find out more have a look at their website and blogs www.yorkshirelass.cc.

Rapha Festive 500 - Its not cricket

One of the oldest recognised sports on record is the game of cricket, which dates back to the 17th century.

It was a gentleman's game and if anybody got out, he used to walk without hesitation or prompting from the umpire. Players, usually from Royal background or belonging to the upper class of England, preserved their dignity and believed in playing a fair game and never resorted to abusing, pushing, pulling or showing disrespect to any player. 

They also applauded a good show of the opponent and even congratulated them for taking a wicket or scoring a shot. It was normal and expected that if the umpire was unable to see something then the player would honestly reveal the facts which would affect a decision. 

Any departure from those principles of fairness was considered to be ‘Not cricket’ and often meant that something was unfair or plainly ‘just not right’

For the last few Years Strava in conjunction with Rapha have devised a challenge called the ‘Festive 500’ which involves cycling 500 km between Christmas Eve and New Years Eve.

Well call me a cynic but I think it’s a bit of a coincidence that Strava’s HQ is in San Francisco and just down the road is the San Francisco Rapha shop.

With a December average temperature of 10 degrees c and very little risk of frost or snow it seems that for those living in California the Festive 500 is quite tame.

If however you live ‘North of the wall’ as it were.
In ‘wildling country’ (Yorkshire) .............................it’s a totally different story.

Ice, snow, and any other precipitation horizontally blown by gales that require you to consider stabilizers for your bike.

Quite frankly ‘its just not cricket’

Just like the English and Australians cricketers battling out for a famous yet insignificant and diminutive urn, I have battled for four years to try and win a cloth roundel. The prize given for completing the cycling Festive 500 challenge.

Each year I have been thwarted by work or family commitments, weather, illness, injury, accident or a combination of two or more.

Two years ago I was so close only to come a cropper on black ice with the end in sight breaking a couple of ribs.

After a mediocre year on the bike I was determined that 2015 was going to deliver me my roundel.

Day 1. This provided the sort of daily mileage that I required but with freezing temperatures and biblical down pours my spirits along with my winter boots were severely dampened

Day 2. Christmas Day - Another freezing day with strong winds and driving rain. Any mileage a gift  on this special day.

Day 3. Fine and sunny day although severe local flooding. All roads had standing water where a pedallo would not have been out of place. Submerged pothole wrote off rear wheel. Not happy reduced daily mileage and now behind schedule.

Day 4. Great Club ride in freezing conditions but Dry !!!!!!! clawing back the mileage.

Day 6. Festive 50 Sportive Miles mean smiles.

Day 6. Another great Club ride...........now back on track

Day 7. With 50+ mph winds I had to get creative with two carefully selected routes

Day 8. Of course its not cricket, its cycling and its meant to be tough.

Waiting patiently for my Roundel.