Day 7 of Ride the Rockies brought mixed feelings. On one hand, I could ride here forever but on the other hand, it felt like it was time to stop. Scott Olson and I began our day by eating breakfast at McDonalds which opened at 5:00 a.m. (like they should have).
Navigating road furniture in Cañon City
Once out on the open road the two of us stayed together through Florence. As we were leaving, and I was missing some photo ops, we were joined by two, then three other riders including a medic. And we were flying.
Quick photo in Florence
We were on our bikes before 7:00 a.m. Even trending uphill, we might arrive at the finish by 10:00 a.m. Scott was all in to do that but I was not. He wanted to get there, tear down and pack his bike, grab his luggage and catch a noon bus to the Denver airport. I had no where to go except Hays, Kansas, after the closing ceremony.
Saw this bike today Maybe I should have bought one around 2000-2001
After doing a pull for our group, I moved aside and let them go. One rider saw me and drifted back briefly to pull me back in but I told them to go on. I was happy riding my own pace. Quite happy, in fact.
They picked up 50, then 100, then 200 meters on me. Then I quit watching. I shouldn’t have. Moments later I came upon a rider standing in the right lane of two motioning all cyclists into the travel lane and away from the shoulder. I saw a couple of riders down on the shoulder. I hoped it wasn’t Scott. But it was.
SAG wagons are bad. This one is worse.
I stopped as did a second medic (one of our riders in the group was a medic and immediately was administering first aid) and quickly did what I could which was to help direct oncoming cyclists away from the danger spot – an uneven open seam in the concrete highway.
The Colorado State Patrol, on motorcycles, quickly arrived and an ambulance was not far behind. I was able to help lift Scott to put the board underneath him and then onto the stretcher. We made plans for me to pick up his bike in Colorado Springs after it was SAGged there but that would not be necessary as RTR took care of that.
“SAG” driver
Scott and another rider went to the hospital and I was pretty shaken up. It was hard to ride after that.
Rooster. A Norwegian rooster perhaps.
In comparison to the crash that I narrowly avoided, the rest of the day was uneventful. I rode slowly just talking to spectators and riders. At the second rest stop one rider saw the Mount Washington Auto Road Hillclimb jersey and asked me if I actually did that race. We chatted. He told me that wanted to try it but thought it would be too hard.
Just married Don’t know where this relationship is going but they will get there faster on a tadem
After the second Aid Station, I was passed by Ron Kiefel and his sister, Erlinda. I joined them for a couple of miles, long enough to tell him I didn’t know how they could race on when a teammate goes down. It does leave one shaken. I was still shaken. But I wasn’t invited to join the two of them and soon let them go.
Colorado Springs – The End
A few pictures. A few more miles and then I arrived the finish line. It didn’t feel like an accomplishment although many people were celebrating it as such. Volunteers were handing out pins. For me, it was just over.
Beautiful views at the finish
I loved Ride the Rockies. I was asked by Lauren Hunt of the Davis Phinney Foundation to return next year and ride for them – a real honor to be sure. The memories I take are not of the riding although hard to beat a six-mile stretch off Wolf Creek Pass where I averaged 40 mph. But I will remember the people – Chris and Erin, the kayakers in Telluride; George Hincapie and Connie Carpenter; Bob Roll, the rider from Haymarket; a veterinarian from San Diego; an 8-year-old boy at Oak Lodge in Pagosa Springs; Lauren and Jenna from the Davis Phinney Foundation; Ron Keifel and his sister, Erlinda; the paraplegics riding with hand cranks; and Margaret and John riding with Parkinson’s. And many more that I have left off.
A standing ovation for the Colorado State Patrol arriving in Colorado Springs
This is one event, maybe the only event, that I can see myself returning to.
The day was to begin with a 15 mile climb up over the 10,200′ Lizard Head Pass. But actually it began with a $10 pancake breakfast at the Elks club in the town of Telluride.
It was a chilly 48 degrees, or less, as we rolled out of town. I went by the high school and could hear the P.A. announcer and, just as I passed by, I heard the playing of the National Anthem begin. It was the opening ceremony for Ride the Rockies and I was just out of distance.
The first five miles, downhill, were cold. I looked on with envy at every rider with a jacket, full-fingered gloves, and leg warmers. I was cold.
At five miles in we turned on CO-145 and the road immediately turned up. The profile showed a 10-mile climb but there were some descents built into this climb. Not many, including myself, were prepared for the road to turn up this steeply this quick. But no problem.
People were soon pulled over removing those warm layers. Turns out I dressed perfectly for the day.
We were on the climb to Lizard Head Pass at 10,222′. I wore my Cyclists Combating Cancer kit and forgot that it is also in honor and memory of Jake — I have written on the back In Memory of Jake the Hero 2004-2012. One guy came beside me and said “Good job for Jake” which caught me completely by surprise. Then I remembered, Jake was with me.
At the top of the climb, which was long but not hard, I pulled over for some pictures. It was here the tour D.J. was set up and he played some music and talked a lot. I saw some broken eggs but he was sponsoring a race for a t-shirt. The t-shirt was perhaps 200 yards up a hill at the rest stop on a branch of the tree. Only a somewhat barren, somewhat grassy steep hillside stood between anyone who wanted to race to be first to touch the t-shirt.
I wondered why anyone in cycling shoes would run on that surface. But a woman took off. And after 50 yards or so with no competition, a man and a woman also pursued. Around 100 yards the man passed her and she sat down, completely out of breath. This was the 10,000′ level after all. He won a shirt.
The profile showed a 60-mile descent to Cortez, which was a lie. The first 15 miles after the pass was a real downhill though. I got in a tuck and soon started flying past people. But the road was a chip and tar or chip and seal road with a couple sweeping curves which didn’t seem too safe to just let it roll. Still, I hit 50 mph before bringing the speed back down.
The road trended down after that but one had to work the pedals. It was not a 60-mile coast.
Yesterday in Telluride, Chris told me about a natural hot tub in Rico which I realized after I passed through, I missed. But Rico is a neat little town.
Rico, CO
At Dolores, 64 miles, I skipped the aid stop and rolled out with a number of cyclists. There was an uphill facing us and I felt good when I hit it, passing everyone then just cruising the rest of the way to Cortez.
When I got in I saw Wayne Stetina who told me his speed for the day was 23.1 Pretty impressive (mine was still 18.1) but he told me he had to shepherd a rider over Lizard Head Pass.
My roommate, Scott Olson, and I, made our way back to the school for the cycling seminar which featured George Hincapie. I was able to meet George and Connie Carpenter Phinney.
George Hincapie
George spoke about his career but offered the same excuse as most cyclists of the era that they were caught up in the era. He said the guys that finished second or third or fourth never complained about the winner because they knew everyone was doing it. Sad. But he did offer hope for the future racers, specifically Tejay van Garderen and Taylor Phinney. And his picks for the Tour: Chris Froome, Alberto Contador, and Cadel Evans.
Connie Carpenter
In Cortez I had the worst experience in a motel. Ever. The room reeked so badly of smoke that no amount of spraying could correct. It made for a very miserable night. I’ve never been happier not to be in a motel room. We stayed out of the room as much as possible and would leave at the crack of dawn.
We can ignore the first mile of this trip as it looks like I was hitting the ski slopes. I wasn’t.
We began our day with a beautiful breakfast spread at the Mercure Sensoria de Saint-Lary-Soulan. One field up for the day, we rolled out of the hotel for seven miles and then began an absolutely gorgeous climb up the Col d’ Aspin. It was quite chilly at the start here in the Pyrenees and many riders wore arm warmers and or jackets.
The excitement was great. Yesterday it was I can’t believe that I am (finally) riding in France. And today it’s we’re going to see an actual stage of the Tour de France. And, of course, ride in France. Climb a major mountain.
Marking 100 years since this was first climbed in the TdF – 1910
We rolled out as a group and stayed together for the first 10 km to the town of Arreau which is where we started yesterday. I noticed that Rich McCrea had dropped off the back to adjust his bike or clothing and I dropped back to pace him back up. Of course, it wasn’t necessary but he appreciated it.
In Arreau we turned onto the climb of the Col d’Aspin. The climb was 7.3 miles long (11.8 km @ 6.5%) but not as steep as the climb yesterday up the Pla d’ Adet (8.8%). When it is a steep climb like yesterday’s up Pla d’Adet, I do not want to stop for any reason but keep my heart rate elevated. This is training for Mount Washington, after all.
A view from the top of the Col d’Aspin
But on this climb the scenery was spectacular and the grades, at times, were not that difficult so I pulled over 2-3 times to take photos. It was also like a Reston Bike Lane group ride where I am often called the Ambassador for Cycling by calling out “Morning!” to everyone we pass. Today was no exception. “Bon jour!” “Bon jour!” And I was usually greeted with “Bon jour!” until one young man was beside me and spoke English.
Adrian (L) and Barry (R)
We started talking and I found out (1) he is from England (2) his dad is from the U.S., (3) his mother is from France; and (4) his grandparents have a summer place in St. Lary which is where he, and we, are staying. Actually, Adrian Register, has dual citizenship, U.S. and French. Mostly me, but much of the group adopted him on our ride today. He rode with us up both climbs and we were able to get him to join our viewing. And he returned home with us as well. Meeting him will be one of my highlights of this Tour. One of our group even asked me if he was my son.
Barry at summit of Col d’Aspin
The descent down the west side of the Col d’Aspin was great but there were no signs warning the sharpness of the blind curves ahead. They could be sweeping curves or hairpins. The roads were hard to read and, like yesterday, I came away with an appreciation for how fast the pros descend and the risks they take.
We continued our descent until we reached the village of Saint-Marie-de-Campman at which point we began the climb up the Col du Tourmalet. It was crowded here with lots of cyclists, presumably about to climb the Tourmalet. Or maybe this was their viewing location.
Saint-Marie-de-Campman is a weird little town. Many residents have these almost-creepy lifesize dolls or mannequins in their windows or on their porch.
And then we began the 16.9 km climb (10.5 miles). This was longer, much longer, that the Aspin, and about the same steepness (actually 7.4% average). Much like the Aspin, stopping shouldn’t have been an option except the scenery demanded photos. It was so beautiful.
Dennis McDonald on water bottle duty
At a bridge overlooking a waterfall and crystal clear stream, we stopped for pictures and met a newlywed couple from Cincinnati, on a bike trip. Dennis McDonald went down to the stream to fill his water bottles. And he filled the bottle of our guide, Dave Edwards, who in turned, filled my bottle.
Crystal clear waters
Better than water from the Laurel Mountains in Rolling Rock Beer, we were told we can drink from any stream pouring down off the mountains. Having contracted an E.Coli infection last year, I probably should have known better than to drink the water, but I did. And it was great!
Snow shed on the Tourmalet and 5k to the summit
Ignoring my climbing instincts of never looking up, lest I be mentally defeated, I enjoyed looking for the summit which seemed so far away. It was far away. Adrian and I discussed what we were seeing and eventually decided we could see a snow shed with a number of campers lined up. And we were right.
Looking back at what we climbed (from the snow shed) That is the village of Artigues
Just before the snow shed a number of cyclists had stopped. To our right we could see why. The view to the valley jumped out and demanded that we stop and take a picture. It was both beautiful and intimidating realizing that we had just climbed so far up the Tourmalet.
We continued the climb to the ski village of LaMongie. There, Trek Travel had rented out a restaurant which would be our viewing location. We could choose either the rooftop view or street level. Or both.
The front of the restaurant was open to the street. Inside there was an open buffet. Adrian had climbed the mountain, actually two, from St. Lary and was going to look for a viewing location. One of our guides, Marquette, quietly invited him to join us. Trek Travel had 10 trips operating this week and at least two of our groups were at this restaurant. Maybe more, but not all 10.
Road closed to the summit
We were still four kilometers from the summit and it looked so close so Adrian and I slowly tried to make our way through the hordes of people in the street. We had gone about 500 meters when we were met with barricades across the road and manned by Gendarmeries. The race route had been closed to the summit and we had to turn back. But that was OK.
A view from the rooftop restaurant (three hours before the race)
We ate lunch and waited with excitement as the race caravan came through. It’s a parade on wheels as sponsors come by and throw newspapers, candy, caps, and even jerseys, to the crowd. What fun.
Waitress at our restaurant
Then some team cars rolled through, one by one, not speeding but not real slow either. They were traveling at the speed of the race. When the Astana team car came by, it was met with a chorus of boos that followed it all the way up the mountain.
Yesterday, Stage 15 to Bagnères-de-Luchon, Andy Schleck went to attack but dropped his chain. Alberto Contador then attacked while claiming he didn’t know Andy had a mechanical. Most fans saw that as attacking the integrity of the sport, their sport in France, and they let Team Astana know they did not appreciate Contador’s attack to take the yellow jersey off Andy Schleck.
Lance Armstrong in the breakaway
Although Lance Armstrong came out of retirement (2005) and returned last year and finished third, bad luck if not bad form followed him in this Tour. He was in 38th overall, almost 40 minutes off the lead of Contador then Schleck. He was reduced to stage hunting.
We were watching on the TVs inside the restaurant and saw that Damiano Cunego and Sandy Casar were in the lead group. When they finally came up the climb, there was Chris Horner and Lance Armstrong. I wasn’t even ready to photograph. Lance? You go!
An added benefit of having Adrian with us was he seemingly knew every single rider in the peleton. We knew a few of Radio Shack, Lance’s team, plus a few others but that was it. This guy knew them all.
Two Americans and former teammates #25 – Levi Leipheimer and #126 – George Hincapie
Contador came through with Schleck and was met with a chorus of boos. I wonder if Andy knew those weren’t for him.
Jens Voigt in the grupetto
The stage started in Bagnères-de-Luchon and climbed over the Peyresourde. On the descent off the Peyresourde Jens Voigt crashed. Both team cars were ahead so he had no replacement bike. The Mavik neutral support had been supporting a junior’s race and offered what they had – a kid’s bike. How does this happen? When he rode by his he was quite bloodied and bruised.
Jens Voigt on a child’s bike Source: cycling-passion-com
When it was time to descend everyone had to ride down the Tourmalet. This was a friggin’ blast. Cars and campers lined the road on the way down and hundreds of cyclists went down in the left lane, which was open to oncoming traffic. Sometimes it meant passing 2-3 cars then cutting in while others meant passing 10-20 cars even while entering a blind curve. If cyclists ahead of you go through it one assumes there’s not a camper coming up the road. One can be wrong.
Saint-Marie-de-Campman
Traffic was backed up solid the last two miles. Advantage: cyclists.
At the bottom there was a bus waiting that Trek Travel had chartered. Anyone who didn’t want to climb the Col d’Aspin from the west side could take the bus back. Many did. I didn’t. And neither did Adrian although that offer probably didn’t apply to him but I bet our guides would have permitted it.
Returning over the Col d’Aspin A few hours earlier this was the KOM point with banner and barriers. They tear it down fast.
At the top of the Aspin, someone got a race report that Lance was only a few minutes back of the lead. He wasn’t ahead by 40 minutes for the virtual lead so it must have meant that he was simply at the front end of the break. We knew we had time to see the finish if we hammered the descent on the Aspin. We did. At the base of the mountain in the village of Arreau, we stopped in a bar and watched the end on their big screen. Lance didn’t win although he was at the front with about 100 meters to go. Pierrick Fedrigo won the stage in an eight-man sprint. Lance finished sixth (same time), the top end sprint no longer present. Contador remained in yellow with an eight seconds lead over Schleck.
Town of Arreau
A lasting memory I will take from this trip is that of my grandfather’s cowbell. Many mountain top climbs have people ringing cowbells and Trek Travel handed out very small tiny baby cowbells. I gave mine to Adrian. I either didn’t hear the directions well enough or follow them exactly but we were to pack what we wanted on top of the mountain yesterday for transport ahead of time since it would be closed to traffic at some point. As I was getting ready to go this morning I found the cowbell.
My grandfather, William T. Lowmaster, had been a farmer and before his estate sale, I was able to get a very old cowbell from his barn. This hand made (I think) bell had a wooden clapper. The sound was absolutely super. It was heavy and the sound was solid. When I rang my cowbell, people listened, even the cows on the hillside. I was told some people thought I went and stole the bell from the cows. Not true.
One of our guides, NicoleKimborowicz, transported the bell to the summit so I had it when I was there. Thanks Nicole!!! For a brief time this afternoon, I felt a connection to my grandfather just ringing that bell. And all the Trek Travel bell holders were jealous.
Lovely town of St. Lary
Our day ended with a ride back to St. Lary, saying goodbye to Adrian, and then exploring St. Lary for dinner. It’s not quite Gatlinburg but think mountain village with open shops on the street. It was a GREAT day in the saddle.
Stats and graphics from procyclingstats.com
EDIT/EPILOGUE – Generally, the cycling community saw Alberto Contador’s attack two days earlier when Andy Schleck dropped his chain as very unsporting. Although Thomas Voekler would win Stage 15, Contador took 39 seconds on Schleck, which was the same amount that he would win the Tour. The title was stripped from him two years later. Andy Schleck was named the winner of the 2010 Tour de France.
Our Trek Travel group met at the Novotel in Toulouse at 10:00 a.m. and rode a bus to St. Lary-Sloulan in the Pyrenees. My first introduction was to Derek and Aimee Cutright from Redding, California. When I told them they probably knew a friend of mine I could see them scoffing. But they did know Tamy Quigley.
The Trek Travel bus
Then I met Ed and Nancy Karrels. Nancy was studying museum science and told me about a person she wanted to meet, Nina Simon. I told her I was good friends with Nina. (True). It’s truly a small world – even on our bus.
Burt and Dean sampling the food
We drove out to the Pyrenees in the motorcoach. We had a great picnic lunch in a park/square/open green area with lots of dog poop around in the village of Arreau.
We got fitted to the bikes followed by a too-brief intro of the group. I could never remember all the names.
Guide Marquette Kelly speaking to the Group
We rolled out of Arreau and stayed together for eight miles as the road followed the valley. I looked over to the mountainside and saw a wonderful road cutting through the mountainside and said I hoped we would ride up that hill. We did.
Rolling through the valley
In St. Lary we turned to find the base to the climb up Pla d’Adet. It was a steep one. It averaged 8-10% most of the way with sections of 12%. It was 6.1 miles (10km) to the summit.
And it was HOT. It was 95° (or 35° C). This was the most I ever sweated on a bike. I was drenched when I reached the summit. BTW, this is where George Hincapie won Stage 15 in 2005. Lance Armstrong also won here, in 2001.
The road starts gradually at first before cutting back and going straight up the mountain
I hadn’t read up on the climb and thought I was near the summit (I wasn’t looking up — that’s an old climber trick) when I saw the sign to the summit — 7km (4 miles) to go. Average grade 9%. Well. it was in French but I knew what it said – “you’re going to die.”*
At the summit – the guy wearing the Brooklyn jersey was actually from Madrid
That was enough to make you want to stop and drink the mountain water coming out of the side of the hills (it’s OK unless it’s marked NON). But I kept going and dragged my butt up the hill.
Summit of the Pla d’Adet seeing the last sunshine of the day
After 30-45 minutes on the summit, we got to ride down the mountain. I gained a great appreciation for the professional cyclists. I always admired how fast they could climb but going down these roads — wow! — they descend almost twice as fast as me. The ride down was scary. Very technical (lots of hairpins curves that one had to slow down for) and very dangerous. My average speed down was only 20 mph. That was a lot of slowing in sharp curves.
Barry at the summit of the Pla d’Adet
After a shower we went to La Grange, a pretty neat restaurant which took the rest of the evening. And it was non-smoking although I wonder if it was that way just for us. Doesn’t matter. Thank you France!
La Grange Restaurant in St. Lary
Actually, I would discover later that all of France is non-smoking in restaurants. However, many restaurants have expansive open areas in the front, sidewalk cafes, and the smoke will find its way back in the restaurant.
James Hartberg showing off his tan line
Tomorrow: Col d’Aspin (twice) and the Col du Tourmalet. Our private viewing will be in LaMongie, a ski village just before the summit of the Tourmalet. Trek Travel has a private restaurant reserved and may be out on the roof (so I’ve been told) to see them come by. And to yell bad things at Alberto Contador.
___ *In the Pyrenees the signs are marked for the next kilometer. So the sign I saw that was indicating 9% average gradient was for the next kilometer and not to the summit.
Checking in, I was assigned at the “center of the intersection” of 2nd and B Street. I looked at the route map and saw that that was one block from the route in any direction. I was disappointed at first but Adam Bridge, the coordinator, called it a super location. And he was right.
It was right beside the USA Bicycling Hall of Fame and a block from the start line. But the location didn’t make it great – the assignment did. There were three sawhorse barriers and three traffic cones blocking the street. Our job, working with a security guy, “Mike,” from St. Louis, was not to allow any vehicles other than team vehicles to enter the street. We got to direct all the team buses, vans, and cars, except for Team Radio Shack, to park on this street.
USA Bicycling Hall of Fame
One by one we directed each team down the street until the street was full. Then we were done with one hour to go before the start of the race.
Davis is the self-proclaimed bicycling capital of the U.S. And not necessarily self-proclaimed. Bicycling magazine, the League of American Bicyclists, and maybe others have bestowed this upon the community. Bikes are everywhere. The city’s sign features a bike on either side.
But where are the helmets? Almost every rider I saw in Davis was forgetting the $39 piece of fiberglass that will help protect their head when they have the accident. While embracing the bike culture they seemingly snubbed their noses at protection. It was a little strange.
There were very few vendors set up in Davis which was disappointing. But we found the Radio Shack bus and decided to stand 5-6 deep watching for Lance Armstrong to come out. Around 10:30 he came out and was besieged with autograph seekers. There was a fenced barrier and people were orderly and I believe he signed everything handed to him.
Three-time defending champ, Levi Leipheimer
He got lost in the sea of people and disappeared, I’m guessing he went for a quick spin. Most of the crowd dissipated and we waited to see Levi Leiphiemer, Chris Horner, Johann Bruynell and others.
Three kids who didn’t get their chance to get an autograph were invited inside the security barrier by someone with Team Radio Shack and stood outside the bus door when Lance came back from his quick spin. After a minute or so, the door opened and the three of them went in the bus. They came out a couple of minutes later wearing autographed Team Radio Shack hats and grins from ear to ear.
Lance – No telephoto lens needed
There was only a few minutes before start time when Lance came out the second time. No one could blame him for dismissing everyone because he had to go but he again walked the line signing anything put before him. I gave him my Ride Against Cancer card and asked him to carry that with him today. He obviously knew that it would get soaked and destroyed so he handed to an assistant, probably with instructions to make a sizable donation to the cause (he writes, tongue in cheek).
Lance then left, made it to the start, and we had a few minutes left. The gun went off and the peloton did a ceremonial neutralized lap and came back through the start chute. Then they were off. And I was ready to say goodbye to the Tour of California for another year.
The first four years the ATOC was held in February. But last year featured a week of cold, windy, rainy weather and they moved the race to avoid cold, windy, rainy weather. But in Davis it was overcast and 60 degrees with a forecast of rain.
I also came to California to go riding and was initially headed to San Francisco. But as I drove the weather got worse. I was driving into continual rain and the temperature dropped. No need for me to be riding in that. My next trip across the Golden Gate Bridge would have to wait for another time.
I had previewed the stage but really didn’t know where it was going. I remembered Yountville and entered that into the Garmin. When I reached Yountville I continued and thought they would head up Oakville Grade Road. I was hoping I would see it and figured I would come up to an intersection heavily paroled by the California Highway Patrol. And I did.
I turned left on the mountain road and immediately started climbing in the car. Wipers on, it was cold and rainy here. I surveyed a place to pull over and didn’t see any. Everywhere I saw a pull-off it was already taken by other vehicles.
I passed the third King of the Mountains check point on Oakville Grade Road and knew there was a descent and another KOM up ahead. I was one kilometer from the summit of the second KOM on Trinity Road when I saw a driveway to a gated house. I parked the car in the driveway. The police were shutting down the road so even if the owner wanted out they weren’t going anywhere.
Besides, I was beside another car which had parked there. Its owner came back and we talked for about 20 minutes before hearing the “whoop” of a distant police siren. My friend, a former Belgian cyclist now living in Vegas was following the Tour every day. We talked about cycling but also about Floyd Landis. He was adamant that Floyd was clean and the French set him up, not wanting another American to win. Interesting.
Once the police started coming through I got out in the same miserable wet weather I didn’t want to ride in. I went down the road about 200 meters to where the peloton would come through the last of some switchbacks on this climb.
I stood beside two cyclists just off the surface of the road. They had ridden from Davis. I don’t know if they followed the same route but hopefully something more direct. They left at 7:30 a.m. and the time was around 2:00 p.m. They were both shivering which confirmed my decision not to ride today.
Two leaders were in a breakaway but after they passed us 30 seconds behind came the train of Team Radio Shack. There were five guys in the front with Levi on third wheel and Lance on fourth. And they were marked by Garmin-Transitions.
Levi Leipheimer on 3rd Wheel, Lance on 4th
Wave after wave of riders came by as this climb broke the field apart. Halfway through George Hincapie came through drafting the BMC car. He pulled alongside the car and I watched as he took a “turbo bottle.” I laughed.
George Hincapie
There were no race referees in sight and I suppose, if the cameras caught it, they do use some form of video review. But the cameras weren’t there either. And it made me wonder how the peloton patrols and monitors each other. George is on the downside of his career and universally respected. I’m guessing that a temporary boost from a turbo bottle is a right earned after riding in the peloton so many years. Some rookie might not get away with it but George could. If it happened at all that is (wink).
About 17 minutes down came the yellow jersey of Mark Cavendish. But he was joined by perhaps 30 other riders. They formed the “autobus” (grupetto) which consists of the sprinters, other riders who can’t just fly over the mountains, and anyone having a bad day. One can be eliminated at the end of the day on time but not if 30 riders are together and outside the time limit. So for this stage they all form up and stay together.
“Grupetto” led by the Yellow Jersey, Mark Cavendish
About 3-4 minutes after them one last lonely rider, Sean Mazich (Jelly Belly) made his way up the hill. Boy can I empathize with him. Cold, wet, and miserable – sometimes the legs just don’t have it and you pull yourself inside out to get over the next hill. Sean had already been eliminated on time but refused to get in the Broom Wagon, instead he rode the entire route by himself. Then was eliminated.
My time at the Tour was great. Getting to help out the tour in the morning at Davis then having the freedom to move to another location as a fan made it worthwhile. I had thought about volunteering for a week but will have to rethink whether I want to spend a week working all day long or simply volunteer for a couple of stages. This seemed about right.
This was also an excellent decision because I hadn’t realized until Sunday that I’m not as far along in my recovery as I believed. As Dr. Mostwin told me last month, I still have 18 months of healing left and I now know he was right.
Epilogue – Just two days later, the first of many emails of Floyd’s were made public. He admitted to using performance enhancing drugs through most of his career. Very disappointing. Although he stands by his denial that he never used testosterone.
On my return flight I flew from Oakland to Phoenix on the first leg. I met Paul Mittman, President/CEO of Southwest College of Naturopathic Medicine who used an upgrade for me to sit in first class. Thanks Paul!
Last year I went to Sacramento to volunteer for the Amgen Tour of California. I had a great, even amazing, experience, and returning this year was one of my post-cancer treatment goals.
After last year’s event, I was in contact with Medalist Sports for a week-long position traveling with the Tour. In February I was contacted by them but respectfully declined as I didn’t know whether I would be recovered enough for the demands of the job. But I still wanted to help and going to Sacramento would be the first step.
I arrived at the volunteer check-in location before anyone else including the coordinator., Gail Keeter, When she arrived she made it known that being first didn’t mean getting the best location, which would be downtown on the inner circuit which they passed three times. I guess that if the “best” assignments were for those who got there first, there would be a rush to be first in line. This was probably conveyed to those who could attend the orientation meeting, which I couldn’t do.
So I went for a walk. A long walk. A two-hour walk along the bike path which is beside the Sacramento River. When I got back there was a check-in line formed and I was deep enough in line, I guess, to get a downtown location. One problem though, while it was “downtown” it wasn’t on the finishing circuit.
A replica of the Golden Gate Bridge across the Sacramento River – for cyclists
It was at 30th and Folsom Blvd. and I was to guard the exit from the parking lot of the KFC/A&W restaurant. Across the street was volunteer Tamy Quiqley, from Redding, California, who was dutifully patrolling the empty parking lot of the Wells Fargo Bank.
With more than 90 minutes before our required reporting time, we decided to walk downtown to the finish. We were able to watch the last six laps of the women’s criterium, won by 17-year old Coryn Rivera. She won the junior group at USA Cycling Nationals two years ago at Seven Springs, Pa., which I also marshaled.
When we returned to our posts a policeman was just finishing taping off the entrances with yellow police tape. And she told us she was assigning junior rangers to assist there. When asked if we should stay there she told us we weren’t needed.
So we then set out to get to the downtown finishing circuit to “help.” We found the corner of N and 15th Streets and started helping the marshals on site. With a phone call or two to friends watching, we could tell the spectators the ETA of the peloton.
Eventually, the helicopter arrived overhead and we knew the riders were down below. Two blocks up from us they flew through the finish line at the start of Lap 1. About one minute later they bore down on us.
When you ride you know you’re fighting, or pushing the wind. But one doesn’t realize the extent until you stand downwind from the peloton. When they were about 25 meters from our location a wall of wind hit us in the face. They made the 90-degree turn, at our location, but would not be so lucky at some other locations. Two major crashes knocked out a number of riders and neutralized the racing on the final two laps, except for overall time bonuses for the first three positions.
Peloton charging hard into the corner – and kicking up dust
One worries not only about the riders cornering safely but also the cars. These drivers are part dare-devils and many squeal their tires as they corner much too fast for the normal person.
Mark Cavendish’s HTC-Columbia Team formed the perfect lead-out train and he stayed on their wheels the next two times they flew by our location. After the last rider passed we ran two blocks to the L street where they were flying by to the finish but we missed the lead-out train delivering the “Manx Rocket” to the finish line. We did see the middle and end riders come in, all at the same time since the peloton had been together inside the final three km when they crashed.
George Hincapie
If you can limp on a bike, several later riders came limping on in. One rider from Cervelo Test Team had his entire left thigh bloodied and exposed. George Hincapie didn’t show quite the same road rash but wasn’t feeling too well either.
Believe this is Heinrich Haussler. Ouch.
We tried to get to the podium and could see a corner of it but the crowds were too large. One gentleman asked us who won and we told him Mark Cavendish. He said, “Who?” “But how did Lance (Armstrong) do?” And maybe more than 50% of the spectators fit that category. They came to see Lance and he was supposed to win. But it’s always fun talking about cycling with the spectators.
Source: ProCyclingStats.com
It was a long but rewarding day. Glad to be back in California.
