Veteran - LVRC

Neil Martin didn’t have to fix his bike in the blacksmith’s forge, but he suffered quite enough on
L’Etape du Tour…
Nails on Toast
Neil Martin
WE DROVE INTO the outskirts
of Tarbes through pouring
rain. No need to hunt for the
‘Depart‘ direction arrows – hordes of
already-soaked riders were pedalling to the
start through the 6 a.m. darkness. The
British constabulary would have had a
field-day with the light-less masses.
I’d signed on effortlessly two days
before: now the big day had finally arrived.
A quick change in the Galaxy; au revoir to
the crew with a view to seeing them
somewhere on the final Col (you need a
special pass to get on the climb, bagged at
the signing-on) and off into the gloom to
track down my start area.
We all lined up in our designated side
road; the countdown to the start could be
heard on loudspeakers a few roads away;
5,4,3,2,1 and......nothing. I had to wait for
the 4148 riders in front of us to move
before we could. Twenty minutes later we
passed over the start transponder mat and
were away, at a steady 25 mph. Initial preevent
fears that it would be dangerous
were soon dispelled as the thousands
barrelled along with very little switching
and a great deal of consideration for fellow
riders.
The first ravitaillement appeared to be
somewhat chaotic.I made the choice to
ride straight through. However, I did
manage to grab a couple of bottles of
Aquarel water from one of the many
roadside helpers handing up drinks beyond
the feed. By this time the rain had eased a
little, just in time for the first climbs of the
day: a combined 4th and 3rd cat (Tour
values) that seemed to go on forever. A
quick pose for the official Etape photographers
either side of the road and over the
top to begin what proved to be one of the
fastest descents ever ridden. I interrupted
my own descent to answer a major call of
nature behind a hedge and then back into
the fray. A few more drags and descents
and then it really chucked it down along
the valley.
Col d’Aspin. A sharp right and we were
on a fairly steady climb of 12 km using a
maximum gear of 39/21; I was saving the
23 for the brute to be negotiated later in
the day. At the summit I ignored another
even more chaotic feed station – just a
brief stop to put on the gilet for the wet
14km descent to St. Marie de Campan, the
town at the foot of the Tourmalet, famous
for the bloke who fixed his broken forks
only to be penalised because a lad helped
with the bellows in the forge. Nails on toast
for breakfast too, no doubt.*
An acute left and we’re on the 17km.
Tourmalet with a warm sun and a tailwind
to ease the agony. This is a monster of a
Col: fairly easy of gradient for the first few
k’s or so but then it kicks in to an average
of 8 to 9 %. Doesn’t sound much but a
major effort for a long time; the fastest I’ve
ever climbed it is 1.15, a true backbreaker.
The 23 came in to play for the 6-7mph
grind of the last km. up to the feed at La
Mongie ski station 5 kilometres from the
summit. A stop for bars, water, sultanas by
the fistful and an easing of the aching back
readied the bod for the final lurch to the
chilly summit at 2115 metres. On with the
gilet again for what some claim to be the
best descent in Europe; I’m with them on
that one. I’ve descended the 18km this
way quite a few times now, so knowing
where I was going was a real bonus,
especially on closed roads – and in the
company of a couple of riders who
obviously knew where they were going too
a terminal velocity of 54mph was reached.
The Tourmalet descends into Luz St.
Saveur, a busy little town nestling in the
valley that eventually leads to Lourdes after
a further 30 kms. of descent. The Etape,
however, swung left in the town , over a
little blip to descend again to begin the
final climb to the finish at the ski station of
Luz Ardiden at an altitude of 1715 metres.
This is where the backache really kicked in.
By this time I had started to see some early
start numbers
which suggested
either that I was
doing a reasonable
ride or that
they were
creeping. This is
a hard climb,
especially after
85 damp miles.
Approaching
3km from the
top I spotted the
family parked at
the roadside a
few metres
before the barriers dividing the road started
, providing a safe lane to descend off the
mountain while others are grinding their
way up to the finish. Heavy rain started to
fall again for my final 2 km, as did the
temperature on the back of a freezing
wind.
Eventually I crossed the Arrivée transponder
mat, a finisher’s gong was draped
around my neck and I was hustled around
the back of the changing tent to begin the
descent against the now steady flow of
finishers, back down to Maria and the kids.
Fantastic! I’d done it; and in a not-toobad
time of 6hrs 7 mins 53 secs for a Gold
standard and 328th finisher. All this
information is sent later in the form of a
certificate to commemorate your participation,
along with a sample of photos you
can send for. The first finisher home was a
Bulgarian living in France who has now
ridden all nine Etapes and ‘won‘ three of
them. Try to pick him out at the start next
year.
I’d certainly do it again but it would
have to be ‘a good one ‘ i.e. a big stage in
the Alps or similar. Popular opinion
regarded this edition as one of the classics,
despite the weather which apparently
turned the bad side of evil on the
Tourmalet for the later finishers.
As a footnote: the same Tarbes–Luz
Ardiden stage 148km. was won by the
Euskatel Basque climber Robert Laseika in
a time of 4hrs 24 mins. I wonder if he
spent the whole of the last climb in the 23
too? V
Drawing: Pellos
* Back in 1913 two commissaires were dropped off to supervise Eugene Christophe
while he repaired his fork and make sure he didn’t break the rules. After an hour or
so one of them complained of being hot and hungry. ‘You should be where I am,’
Christophe said. ‘Chew a bit of this coal – there’s plenty.’
Veteran Leaguer: Winter 2002 Page 21