It was August 2006, after knee surgery that I first remember writing that someday I wanted to bike up Mount Washington. In 2007, Ashley and I went to New Hampshire for Newton’s Revenge, one of the two bike races up the mountain. Weather forced the cancellation of the race.
Friday Night Meet & Greet with Peter Salon and Walker Savidge
In 2008 we went back and I made it, albeit with a crash which meant I didn’t make it without stopping, and I was using normal stock gearing on my bike.
The event tent at the MWARBH 2010
I decided I had to go back to make it without crashing or stopping and I would change the gearing. But May 2009, brought its own crash, a broken wrist, an e.Coli infection and a diagnosis of cancer. Yea, it sucked. Ultimately, I was able to ride but promised myself I would return in 2010 as my recovery goal.
Cars entering the Mt. Washington Auto Road
And return I did.
Entrance to Mt. Washington Auto Road
I arrived on Friday morning. I wanted to do a light ride and rolled slowly through North Conway which was congested with tourist traffic. Near the end of town, a couple of riders asked “mind if we jump in?”
Parking lot at the summit
I was surprised to see Walker Savidge and Peter Salon, two riders for the Garmin-Transitions U23 team who had come to Mount Washington for the race. Of course, they were in their full Garmin kits. Made me glad I never bought the full Radio Shack kit to wear. I would have felt so stupid.
Peter, Walker, Barry
They didn’t know the roads so I agreed to take them on a short — 60-minute ride. What fun. I turned into the wind and pulled for five miles. We talked about their gearing, they hadn’t made any changes to their road gears — I knew it was too big for the mountain but hey, who am I to say something? It was one cool experience!
Walker and Peter signing posters. Walker said it would devalue the poster.
As far as the race, I came to the mountain without a ride down and was determined to find one on the race forum. I contacted Ted Essenfeld who agreed to give me a ride down. I met him at the registration area and sent a bag of warm clothes to the top in his SUV.
Tinker Juarez in the black jersey. He competed in Leadville 100 the previous Saturday, finished in 7:30. I have no idea how he can still be walking.
At the start line, I was soaking up the moment and ignored warming up, instead, I was walking around taking pictures. The ground was rocky and sandy but I was rejoicing being here and being a survivor.
The pros and Top Notch group queue up for their start. Walker and Peter had the low numbers but weren’t given any respect by the other riders.
Although there were four age groups, the largest group was the 45+ and it was so large it was split into two. So we had five starting groups, each separated by five minutes. I was in the last group and lined up at the end of our group. I started dead last.
Cars at the base of the auto road
When the cannon sounded I tried to clip in and found neither foot would clip in. Oh boy. The rocky and sandy ground got in my Speedplay cleats and prevented the springs in my cleats from working.
Race announcer Richard Fries and Mary Power, Race Director
— with .
After 100 yards I got the left foot clipped in but couldn’t get the right clipped. It would be easier to pedal a bike with platform pedals and tennis shoes than my Speedplay pedals with road shoes that don’t clip in. When I stood to pedal my right foot would slip off the pedal. And bang my chin.
Start of Top Notch group
At Mile 5 I was catching a woman, Joan Pew from Maine, who asked if someone was running Speedplay shoes and wasn’t clipped in. You could hear it. Props to her to knowing what brand it was. She offered to take a brush from her bag if we both stopped. I knew we couldn’t get going again so I kept going. It was a kind offer though and greatly appreciated. I would ride it out and keep trying to clip in.
Joan Pew. She offered to stop and clean my shoes. We would have never got restarted.
The ride up the mountain is 90-100 minutes of willpower. The body says to at least take a break. Indeed, I counted 31 riders who dismounted in front of me and were stopped or walking. One guy was carrying his bike up the mountain rather than ride.
Start of the third group, 35-45 years old – Theodore Essenfeld in white
I forgot how friggin hard the mountain is. I thought there would be some relief after two miles but there wasn’t. It keeps going up at that 12% grade with no breaks.
Two riders on the finishing grade. One was paperboying and would fall over; the other was simply pushing her bike. It is tough.
I crossed the finish line in 1:43 — just two minutes faster than last year. I thought I might have 10 minutes in me, i.e., finish around 1:35. I had ridden almost 3,000 miles this year and been “training” in France. But I’ll take any improvement. I came back cancer-free.
My third time up the Rock Pile
At the summit, I could not find Ted or his wife as she was forced to park in a service area about 200 yards from the top. So I never got into my warm, and dry, clothes. I was stuck in sweaty, nasty, cycling clothes. And a Polartec blanket. That was enough. I had to scrounge to find a ride for me and my bike. I accepted an offer from two different people – one to take my bike and one to drive me down.
Ted Essenfeld. He still owes me a ride down the mountain. Here he has my Trek Travel bag.
I was pleased that I sent up my Trek Travel bag with shoes, warm clothing, food, cell phone (for photos). But with the missed connection at the top, it was all for naught. At the end of the day, I told Mary Power and Kelly Evans, event directors at the Mount Washington Auto Road, that I might not be back next year. Each year gave me a new reason to come back but this year left me fulfilled. Mostly. Oh well, I have six months to think about it (before registration).
NOTE: (1 Aug 2021) – Although Strava was founded in 2009, I certainly was not using it then. But an upload of my data show my point-to-point time was 1:42:15. This is different from the “official” race time which starts at the cannon blast but cannot account for the time waiting on the bridge, dead last, while the front row takes off. It is the best representation for comparison of me to me. This was my best time despite a cleat that would not clip in.
Back on roads safely away from vicious man and dog-eating dogs, I decided I would try to hit 50 mph today. On US Rte 30, two miles west of Stoystown, Pa. is an awesome steep hill which is straight as an arrow, hits a dip in the bottom and goes straight up the other side. In other words, a perfect hill to gain speed. No worries about curves or stopping.
US Rte 30 looking east. The grade is longer on this side but steeper on the other side.
I parked at the bottom of the hill and started my one mile ascent up the 7% grade. Much of this climb was 10-11% but there is a 5-6% section in the middle which brings the average down.
At the top I turned around, put the bike in the big gear, and pedaled as fast as I could. I got in my aero tuck and watched the speedometer creep up – to just 45 mph. I was disappointed.
I rode through the dip at the bottom of the hill and began my climb up the other side. The total climb was 0.7 mile but the steepest section was near the bottom – the last 0.4 mile. In this section the road averaged 10% grade.
Though I went all the way to the top and turned around to try it again, my speed didn’t really creep up until I hit the bottom ramp. My Trek computer had me at 49.2. Close, but not quite 50. I will have to try again next week.
After a few minutes, I decided I would head over to Altoona, mainly to ride Horseshoe Curve. But when I reached Summerhill (yesterday, by bike) and saw the sign for Blue Knob State Park, I decided to follow the sign.
I parked at the park entrance and began the 4.5 mile climb to the summit. Many sections were hitting 14-15% and 16% in the last section. It was a nice workout.
There are no roads like Mount Washington but climbs like Blue Knob are helpful. Glad I came back, even if for a day.
UPDATE: There will be no try next week. I have changed the gearing on my bike to ready myself for Mount Washington and have removed the “big ring” necessary to hit top speed.
Today was the STATES family reunion in Canoe, Twp., Indiana Co., Pa., near Punxsutawney. I had hoped to leave my parents’ place near Somerset and bike 75 miles to the reunion while they drove there. And I hoped to beat them there. That would not happen.
The temperature was 56 degrees (13 C) when I left. The ride was uneventful until I reached Johnstown. I had planned to follow Rte 271 through Johnstown for about 25 miles so you would think I could stay on it without a cue sheet for more than one mile. You would be wrong.
I went through Franklin borough just outside Johnstown and was barely paying attention to the signs when I briefly saw one which stated TRUCK ROUTE 271. At first I followed it but then doubled back to double check the sign. And it was clearly marked “truck route.”
It is marked TRUCK ROUTE, no?
To my thinking, this was the truck route which was longer and not as steep as the regular route. You’d think. You’d be wrong.
So I went straight instead of turning and I immediately began a real nice three-mile climb and did not regret following this route. Until I reached South Fork, that is. Then I knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
I found two guys who were “railfans” alongside the tracks with their huge cameras. One was from New Jersey. The other was from Vermont. Nice guys but they certainly couldn’t help me.
Rail fans from the Northeast come here to take pictures
I found directional help in the form of a man at a gas station. He had to think about how to help get me back to Rte 271 then discounted a road because it had a “big hill.” He said no bike could get up it. I told him the bigger the better. So he sent me that route. He was right (about big hill but wrong about being able to ride up it). I enjoyed every minute of the climb. I also called my mother and told her not to worry if I wasn’t at the reunion within an hour or two after they arrive because I went far out of my way.
Once back on course I stopped for a brief break at Duman Lake County Park near Ebensburg. After the break I made it to Nicktown then paused to read my cue sheet. I remembered I could turn right and end up in Northern Cambria where I could refill my water bottles – now empty. But my cue sheet, which I made, had me turn left. I turned left then made a right turn in half a mile.
Duman Lake Park near Ebensburg
As I approached Marsteller I spotted two huge Rottweilers ahead and fast approaching. I stopped and immediately dismounted. I turned my body to hold my bike between the dogs and myself. And they came right at me.
Not a photo of the actual dog – they were meaner looking
I figured I had little chance against one dog. And my odds dropped to zero against two of them. I was successful in holding one at bay but the second one could see my trick and was about to go around my bike and greet me from the back side.
I’m holding a carbon fiber bike. Lightweight and expensive although the cost meant nothing. In an instant I wish I was on a $100 steel bike. Or at least aluminum. I figured my only chance was to swing the bike wildly. It was a stupid plan.
There was a car parked a little behind me. I thought maybe I could quickly climb onto the hood then maybe the roof. But what happened next was too fast to accurately recall.
A tiny terrier in the lawn next to me came running out of his yard right to the two huge dogs. They immediately lost interest in me and saw a furry meal instead. The little gal let out a yelp – a big yelp from a little dog – and somehow she got away. I thought she would be mangled to death. Its owner quickly appeared and with the two of us there, and perhaps confused over what just happened, the Rottweilers scurried away. I really don’t remember why they left or where they went.
During the 60 seconds or so I was scared to death but outwardly calm. I tried to talk to the dogs but did not appear aggressive, other than keeping my bike between us, nor did I try to flee. And I kept my eyes on them, never turning my back, which is why I never saw the terrier who came to my rescue.
I am convinced that that little terrier came out of her lawn to protect me. I also believe that had she not appeared that I would have been hurting pretty bad tonight. I like dogs. It is a shame that some people don’t train or control theirs.
I was shaken. I got back on my bike and rode away, not fully comprehending what occurred nor expressing enough gratitude to the dog’s owner for what the terrier did for me.
I have a chance to ride this route again next Saturday but not sure I want to ride past this stretch of road again. I may elect to drive instead, stopping to thank the owner properly.
I reached Cherry Tree, Pa. and found a country store to refill my bottles. As is my custom, my bike and I went inside the store and no one questioned me.
My bike inside the store
The last 20 miles of my day were trying on me. These are real country roads with few houses and a lot of farms. Many folks own dogs, big dogs, and allow them to roam freely. I was on edge the rest of the ride.
At the end of the day I had ridden 90 miles, climbed more than 8,000 vertical feet, and narrowly avoided one nasty mauling.
UPDATE: SUNDAY AUGUST 15, 2010
Yesterday I biked the same route to my LOWMASTER reunion except that I avoided this stretch of road because of the dog experience.
Today I drove 50 miles, one way, from my parents’ house in Somerset, Pa. I carried two bags of doggie treats. My quest: To meet the owners and thank the dog.
Gabby Pizur and Biscuit
I took two bags of doggie treats to Biscuit, a 3-year old Yorshire terrier. The family was glad to meet me and wanted to thank ME for saving their dog. That is not what happened.
I explained that I was the one in trouble and their dog bounded over the 18″ – 24″ retaining wall from their lawn right into these two Rottweilers that had me cornered. I believe Biscuit acted only because she saw me, a total stranger, in great trouble with these dogs.
_________________________________
UPDATE FRIDAY AUGUST 27 – I did a phone interview with Ashley Watt, a newspaper reporter for the local newspaper in Ebensburg or Northern Cambria. I thought the focus was on Biscuit, the Yorkie, who saved my butt/life. I don’t know when or where it was published but a magazine called Punxsutawney Hometown, picked up the story for their October issue. Pretty embarassing. They called me a “former Punxsy resident.” (I was born in Punxsy but I’m not from Punxsy.)
Map and Stats for August 7 (from Ride with GPS.com)
Map and Stats for August 14 (from Ride with GPS.com)
Another early morning wake up call. I slept in until 5:15 a.m. One thing about this Trek Travel tour is that we were kept moving with little down time. Although we had one lunch and a couple of dinners “on our own” it was nice to have some private time or grab something quick and not have a group dinner that lasted at least two to three hours.
We boarded the bus at 6:00 a.m. for transport to the train station. It was a private train and it was very long. Breakfast was served by Trek Travel staff – quiche and a chocolate croissant plus orange juice and coffee. Ed Karrels had his Garmin out and at one point we were doing 300 kph – about 200 mph. The major differences I saw compared to Amtrak in the Northeast Corridor was that there was no rocking back and forth, no clickity clack of the train on the tracks and the bathrooms did not smell of urine. It was one place you could pee for free in France.
Train Station in Bordeaux
We arrived the train station and it was immediately noticeable that Paris was more “English-friendly” than Toulouse, St. Lary, Lourdes, or Bordeaux. Most signage had English here as well. That was not the case last night when I went out in Bordeaux and found a place to eat. The menu was only in French and the waitress spoke less English than I spoke French – which is only a few phrases or words. But we managed.
We boarded a bus from the train station that took us to within three blocks of our hotel then we walked the rest of the way. The street was too narrow for the bus to maneuver the turns. After storing our luggage at the hotel, we walked 5-6 blocks over to the Automobile Club of France. I need to find out more about this “club” but we were told this is the one day a year women are permitted in the club. No jeans. No shorts. I always envisioned this is the AAA of France. Guess not.
We had to go through security as we got to the block in which the club is located. Then we passed through a second point and finally, once inside the building, a third check. It is a stately building with wonderful balconies over looking the Champs-Eslysses.
Automobile Club of France
Today is the day Ashley joined me. Her plane was delayed four hours so she did not arrive Paris until 1:30 and then had to make her way downtown. At the worst possible time. But she had met a couple from Tucson, Arizona on the flight and they had hired a private car to take them from the airport to their hotel. As it turned out, their hotel was right across the street from our hotel. I had left the club and gone back to the hotel to wait for her.
After Ashley arrived we went to the viewing at the Automobile Club. We jockeyed around trying to see if being at ground level, the outside balconies, or the higher floor windows offered the best view. We ultimately settled on the highest view and then watched the big screen TV coverage of the final lap.
Ashley, Barry
While we were on the balcony, one of the riders in our group, Paul Sommer, asked me to take his picture, framed with the Eiffel Tower in the background. As I was, a woman and her child just cut through the picture. We politely asked them to hold up for a second and they did. As it turned out, it was Johan Bruyneel’s wife and daughter.
Megan Elliott (middle), Chris Horner, Johan Bruyneel
After the race we went down to the Radio Shack team bus. We waited, along with many other people, to get one last glimpse of Lance Armstrong participating in his final Tour de France. I passed my copy of Johan’s book up to Hollie and Dave Eenigenberg who got him to sign it. But, unlike some in our group, we didn’t go through the rope line and get a picture with Lance, Chris Horner, or Levi Leipheimer.
After returning to the hotel we went to the final event – a dinner cruise on the River Seine. A long day, especially for Ashley, who didn’t get to bed until midnight after flying in from the U.S.
Front (beginning with woman in brown dress): Stephanie Chapman (guide), Susan Alexander, Scott Spector (kneeling), Anne Mader, Donna Thackrey, Dave Edwards (Guide, kneeling)
Middle (beginning with woman in white dress): Marquette Kelly (guide), Hollie Eenigenburg, Aimee Cutright, Deirdre Mullaly, Debbie Jaudon, Todd Mader, Nancy Karrels, Ed Karrels (with arm around Nancy), Barry Sherry, David Thackrey, Paul Sommer, Nicole Kimborowicz (guide)
Back: Dean Cobble, Burt Piper, Peter Pellicano, David Eenigenburg, Tom Michaud, Deron Cutright, Richard (Rich) McCrea, Mike Bandemer, Matthew McDonald, Dennis McDonald Missing: James Hartzberg
At 6:00 p.m. this evening I rode with 100 other cyclists from Pauillac to a spot in the countryside. This time I wore shorts and carried two backpacks. The distance was only three miles (five km) but traffic was completely backed up. We learned to ride like the French. Simply ride into the left lane and when oncoming traffic approached maneuver very carefully back close to the yellow line.
I went to my bike, and removed my pedals, seat, and Garmin mount. I am sorry to see our riding end. For the six days of riding, I rode 300 miles and climbed more than 29,000 feet. I am sure I rode more on Wednesday than anyone in our group and today our group of eight went “exploring” (i.e., had a hard time following the Trek Travel directions) and we ended up with even more miles. Plus when I arrived at the viewing location I turned around and went riding on my own. I am sure I rode more miles than any of the 25 people in our group this week. On the bike is the one time I feel good.
Au revoir my French kids
We left this morning from Bordeaux with one of the Trek Travel guides, Stephanie, to ride to Pauillac. When we came to the Tour route at Avenson we were required to dismount and walk across the road. On the other side, we waited as the Tour caravan was coming by. This time I was in an excellent position to grab the swag they were throwing. I scooped up three polka-dot caps and saw some young kids. I ended up giving all three caps to the kids. To a child in France, they LOVE getting something from the Tour.
Candy. Gave it to the kids. Key chains. Gave them to the kids. The green foam fingers. Gave to the kids. In turn, their mother taught them to say “thank you very much” to their new Santa Claus. I only kept laundry detergent (true) and the L’Equipe newspaper.
We arrived at the Trek location which was the amazing Chateau Pichon.
Chateau Pichon
Lunch was downstairs through the wine cellars. Both lunch and the location were awesome.
Our viewing location was right on the course and we could cheer and photograph each rider as they came by. Since I kept the newspaper, I was the only one in our group that had the list of riders in order as they were coming, unless they had been passed by the rider behind them.
Lance Armstrong
The most memorable moment was sitting and trying to talk with the locals. Just like soccer parents, they brought their chairs and sat next to the course. They remained seated until Lance Armstrong was coming. Then everybody stood. They truly wanted to see this great champion of their tour. Don’t tell me the French (people) don’t love Lance. They do.
It was well-known this was Lance’s last Tour de France. He had come out of retirement last year and finished third. Bad luck, among other things, had caught up to him and he was well down in the standings (23rd). This would be the last time France would see the Texan.
The roadside locals stood for Lance. It was the only time they stood. They did not for the Yellow Jersey (Alberto Contador) or for second place (Andy Schleck). Only Lance.
L-R Standing: Rich McCrea, Donna Thackrey, French Guy Tom Michaud, Debbie Michaud. On Wall: Dave Thackrey, Mike Bandemer, David Eenigenberg.
Tomorrow I will board an early private train ride to Paris to see the final stage of the Tour de France and to meet Ashley in Paris.
EDIT/EPILOGUE – Fabian Cancellara won the Individual Time Trial (Stage 19). Alberto Contador won the 2010 Tour de France but was stripped of the title in 2012 because he failed a doping test. He blamed tainted Spanish beef for his positive test. Andy Schleck was named the winner of the 2010 TdF.
Our bus was one hour late this morning so we had time to check out Lourdes. I don’t think I will be coming back here soon. (And am not posting any pictures either…)
We had an uneventful ride to the village of Budos where we ate a picnic lunch before our ride through the vineyards to Bordeaux. All week we rode in a large group or smaller ones and the couples stayed together. Today the men and women formed separate groups. We had 15 guys trying their best to organize a pace line — that’s what I get for starting it.
Barry in Budos, France
While we all were self-identified “avid” cyclists for signing up for this event, we had different abilities and levels of experience and it took 15 miles to sort it out. One inexperienced but strong rider would move to the front and then pick up the pace which would blow the line.
King of the Mountain – La Brede, France
Another rider would alternately pedal furiously and then coast, near the back, which would send the end of the line yo-yo-ing. It was very tough to follow his wheel.
James, Rich
I moved to the front as we reached the town of La Brede and saw the last “King of the Mountain” opportunity for our group. I picked up the pace and then attacked while announcing “KOM Points!” It so happened that our guide, Big Wave Dave, was at the top of the hill and I was caught way off the front and blew the peloton to pieces. It was great! (Credit Dave with these photos.)
Dave, Paul
It wasn’t until we left La Brede that we had four of us in a nice relaxing line each taking 20-second pulls. Dennis, Tom, Peter, and I formed a nice team.
We had a fifth rider join us, Paul, who immediately went to the front and tried to do all the work himself. He apparently was oblivious that while he was working up front, we continued our 20-second pulls, sometimes letting him get 20-30 meters out in front while other times we passed him effortlessly. And we laughed the entire way to Bordeaux. (Sorry Paul)
We rode into Bordeaux, checked into the hotel, then went out on the course to watch the finish. The actual finish line was impossible to get near to be able to see (4-5 people deep) but we could stand there and watch the big screen. Instead, Peter and I chose to go to the end of the finishing chute to see riders come by after the race and go to their team buses. Mark Cavendish won the stage. And I got some good pictures including what will be probably my last photo of Lance Armstrong.
Lance Armstrong handing his water bottle to a young fan
Dinner was at the L’Orleans restaurant. I had duck. It was very good and will probably be the last time I ever eat duck. Our evening was a group meal but one of our riders, Susan, missed it. Instead, she ended up meeting up with Robbie Ventura and Frankie Andreau and eating with them. I think she won the night.
Duck, duck, goose. (Kidding – just duck)
Tomorrow will be the Individual Time Trial and our last day of riding. I am sad to see that end but also just finished chatting with Ashley, who will be flying out tomorrow to Paris where she will join me in the City of Lights on Sunday. One exciting week is drawing to a close while another is still ahead.
EPILOGUE: Actually, it would not be the last photograph I took of Lance nor the last time I would have duck on this trip. And nor would it be the last time I would visit Lourdes.
We were up at 5:00 a.m. for the bus ride to Argeles-Gazost. It was 80 km (50 miles) from St. Lary and would take about one and a half hours. We had to move out early for the opportunity to bike to the summit finish at the Col du Tourmalet. We heard the crowds were large and the Gendarmerie were going to close the summit by 11:00 a.m. (for a 5:00 p.m. finish). People have been camping at the summit for a week before the Tour for the opportunity to see the Tour pass on Tuesday and finish there today. There simply was not room for more people at the top.
We did not have breakfast at the hotel. Instead, our guides were able to get an assortment of breakfast breads and pastries for the bus. They never made it to my seat.
On Tuesday’s ride, we reached our viewing location at LaMongie too late to be allowed to ride to the summit. Instead, we were four kilometers short. Today would be the approach from the other side but we had to be on the road early.
Riding in the rain
We got our bikes and waited patiently in line at the Carrefour supermarket to use their one toilet. There were two Trek Travel groups on our bus so we had almost 60 riders to go up the mountain. And 50 wanted to use the bathroom. I was in the last group of 10 or so to roll out and we were already 15-20 minutes behind the other riders.
Donna Thackery waiting to roll out
We headed out in a heavy thunderstorm with lightning all around. Rain was coming down hard and we rode through streets with 6″ or more of standing water. I’ve never been more soaked on a bike — which is simply to say completely soaked.
Note: Because it was raining so hard during the day, it was not a day to risk camera damage by taking lots of pictures.
Raining hard in Lourdes
Our guide, Greg, took us to a bike path that looked remarkably similar to the Washington & Old Dominion rail trail in Virginia. It clearly was a former rail line with long straight flat sections along the Gavedepau River. We left the town and got on a road with a slight incline that ran along the river. The river was running high and very powerful due to the storms of the past couple of days — and the one we were riding in.
Along the trail, I had dropped to the back simply to sweep the group. But as the road tilted up slightly I started passing our riders and bunches of riders whom I did not recognize. The road was two lanes but still with wide shoulders as it followed the river.
Alongside the river. Notice the chalk/paint on the road.
We turned off the river road and onto a road where the climb began. It was 18.5 km to the summit of the Tourmalet. We went through the little town of Luz-Saint-Sauveur and it was, at times, difficult to maneuver through the people walking in front of us. But once out of the village it was good riding.
The route was lined with campers, cars, and tents. Even though it was 9:00 a.m., cold and raining, some people would stand and clap as we rode by, others shout “Allez! Allez!” All were voices of encouragement. I think.
Ski lift on Tourmalet
My preconceived notion was that I would come to France and ride up the Tourmalet while thousand of drunken Frenchmen would hurl insults at us. Nothing could be further from the truth. Well, they may have been drinking, a lot, but all were very respectful of anyone on a bike. Especially, climbing on a bike.
(Actually, I would meet drunken fans but they usually weren’t French. They come from other countries in Europe and often wear orange, if you know what I mean. 😉
On the Tourmalet
France has a culture of cycling. One sees couples in their 70s and 80s biking — without helmets, of course. But I have ridden more than 200 miles here, much of it climbing mountains, and have been passed by hundreds of cars. Not one person has yelled at me. Zero. I have ridden by plenty of HUGE dogs and not one had barked, growled, or chased. Even the dogs like cyclists here.
Trek Village
On Tuesday we had a restaurant in LaMongie which was four km from the summit on the east side of the Tourmalet. I thought we were going to a restaurant today as well. I would be wrong.
For a while, I rode with a young man from Norway until we separated. Then I fell into a Trek group with Scott from Rochester, NY, and Bobbie Jo from Oakland. The three of us chatted while we climbed and it seemed in no time we were at our Trek Travel Tent/viewing area. It wasn’t a restaurant but a tent. A big tent, but still a tent.
Trek Travel Tent viewing location
We were at kilometer 8.5 and I wanted to continue to the summit. Even though it was cold, raining, and generally miserable, I viewed this as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Besides, going up was actually easy. I was generating enough body heat to keep warm.
Inside the Trek Travel tent
I climbed through a number of switchbacks all still lined with campers. There was an exceptional presence of Basque people who came from just over the border in Spain although there are French Basque as well.
A very proud young Basque fan
I reached the 4km to the summit sign and the road was barricaded. No one was being permitted through. Some cyclists tried to scale a hill nearby with their bikes and it was comical to see the hill win as they would fall and slide back down the muddy hill. One reached the road only to be turned away by the Gendarmerie.
Passing the cars and campers was not much different than walking through the parking lot at any NFL or soccer game. It was Tour de France tailgating and the aroma of the grills was great.
I know there are cheaper trips. But today I was glad I was with Trek Travel. After passing the Trek tents and wanting to ride as far as I could until being turned away, I rode with a man from New Hampshire.
Me: “Where are you from?”
Him: “New Hampshire”
Me: “Mount Washington is much tougher than this”
Him: “You have ridden up Mount Washington?”
Me: “Yes”
Him: “I’ve done the running race 11 times but would never try to bike up it.”
He told me he was with another tour company. They would be biking to their hotel on the other side of the mountain after the race. He had a rain jacket but we were soaked. And with the summit already closed, the poor guy had nowhere to get in out of the cold and rain for the next 5-6 hours.
I turned around and descended back to the tent area. It was dry as I began my descent but I could also see in the distance this beautiful cloud in the valley. It was rain. Cold rain. And I had to ride through it.
Cozy warm, I guess
At the “Trek village” there were three smaller square tents. One contained our travel tote bags we had sent up ahead with our van, one was a women’s changing area, and one was for men. I walked into the changing area and there were wet cycling kits hanging anywhere one could fashion a hanger but mostly on the support poles of the tent. I changed into my dry clothes for the day and went inside the large reception tent and sat down with a bunch of people I never met before.
There were 10 travel groups with Trek Travel doing the last week of the tour and this was the first of three locations we would converge. The other two are at the time trial in Bordeaux and the finish in Paris. Here I sat with Chris Fusco and Lori Rackl from Chicago. Lori is on the “trip of a lifetime” but is also writing a story about it for the Chicago Sun-Times.
Lori wanted to interview some people from the Chicago area and I stood up and rang my cowbell. People became silent and I simply called for Hollie Eenigenburg. Hollie and her husband, Dave, own the Trek bike store in Schererville, Indiana. So Lori did an interview with Hollie with me interrupting occasionally. And then she interviewed Paul Sommer, another rider from Indiana.
Lori interviewing Paul
Throughout the day the rain came down hard. There was no heat in the tent other than what 250 people will create. Some riders still had wet clothes on or sent only a short sleeve shirt in their bag. They were in trouble.
A few times, the sun came out, and large cheers erupted. But rarely did the sun shine for more than five minutes. But people moved their wet clothes from inside the changing tent to hang them on whatever fences they could find only to be poured on again.
Part of the grupetto
We were served dinner inside the tent and they had four large flat screen monitors where we could watch the riders until they were ready to go by us. Or we could stay in the tent and be dry. To watch meant to go outside and scale a 20-meter steep hillside.
The caravan came by and I climbed the steep hill. I felt silly wearing my referee/Ultimate Frisbee turf shoes on Tuesday while everyone else had tennis shoes or flip flops. Today, I was the envy of everyone who slipped and fell on the hill trying to get up to the main road.
We had front row viewing to Andy Schelck and Alberto Contador going past, trailed not by much by Lance Armstrong. A number of the group then ran back to the tent to watch the finish on TV. I elected to stay in my position and cheer on every last rider making the climb. I waited for the grupetto. I can always watch the tour on TV. How often can I see these guys in person?
Alberto Contador (l) and Andy Schleck (r) (Credit – Pretty sure this came from our Trek Travel website)
The descent afterward was wild. There were literally miles of cars stopped trying to go back down the mountain. Only bikes could fly down the mountain because we used the incoming lane. It was downhill all the way until we reached the bike path and then we rode 18 km to Lourdes where we would check in for the night.
My blurry shot of Lance Armstrong
Lourdes is an interesting city. Think Gatlinburg, Tennessee, or Niagara Falls, Ontario. Or maybe Ocean City, Maryland. It’s been referred to as “where the Vatican meets Vegas.” People come here to be healed or buy healing stuff, I guess. There are more hotels per capita than any place in France. People are wheeled down the streets in their wheelchairs, except in the middle of town where they have their own wheelchair lanes. Lots of people limping. And of course, they’re all smoking.
Most moving moment of the day: On the run-up to the climb seeing mile after mile of LIVESTRONG messages painted on the road. Everyone remembers or honors someone with cancer and I’m sure thousands more messages got submitted but not painted. I was choked up and pulled over to gather myself. I hate cancer.
This would be a day that I was reminded that while I am a survivor, cancer will always be in my life. I have good days and bad, mostly good, but the Tourmalet was a reminder that one does not beat cancer without losing part of yourself to cancer. It was a bad day and I will never be normal again. It was part of the reason I elected to stay outside in the cold rain to watch the Tour go by.
UPDATE: It was only after returning home, on August 9, 2010, that I received a message from LIVESTRONG that my message of hope had been one selected to be painted on the road. I don’t know if it was one of the ones I rode across on this day or not.
Source: procyclingstats.com
Andy Schleck beat Alberto Contador in a two-up sprint for the win. The pros raced 108 miles and climbed 15,381 feet.
We woke up to a chilly overcast day. A pretty loud thunderstorm visited in the middle of the night and the low cloud cover was here to stay. Our Trek Travel group met and discussed riding options for the day. At breakfast, a number of people were already discussing taking a day off from riding. And why not? Because the Tour de France is having a rest day there was no viewing location to bike to.
Why not take a day off the bike? Because of this. Going up the Azet out of St. Lary.
We could climb the Col d’ Azet and Col d’ Peyresourde, eat lunch in Luchon, then return over the Peyresourde. Or skip the Azet and take a valley road leading right to the Peyresourde so only one climb would be needed. And Trek Travel would shuttle people back if you wanted to ride one-way.
People discussed their options. Some were staying back at the hotel and visiting St. Lary to go shopping. Some were staying back but riding locally. Some were going out to the Peyresourde to Luchon. And only a handful, perhaps five, were going to the entire route. Yea, that would be me.
Because groups formed in the parking lot and I was unsure who was in which group, I just sort of jumped in and started asking where they were going. I joined Rich McCrea and James Hartzberg and we went flying down the road to Arreau. We had gone the wrong direction.
By the time we realized we weren’t supposed to be following the other groups, that they were skipping the Azet, we had to turn around and go back to St. Lary to start our climb from there. These are called bonus miles. I love them! We added 14 bonus miles returning to St. Lary before beginning the climb up the Azet.
Clouds on the Azet
The mountains had a low cloud cover. The climb up the Col d’ Azet was almost seven miles. We went through a couple old and small villages past farms. We passed some big dogs and no dog yet has shown us any attention. No barking. No growling. No chasing.
Climbing the Azet
At the summit the cover moved rapidly. When I arrived it was covered and I could barely see the sign at the summit 25 meters away. In seconds then entire mountain had cleared. And just as quickly, it disappeared again.
Rich McCrea and James Hartzbger. Stopped for a photo op and remounting.
The top of the Azet is a pastoral grazing area and being France, I’m not sure if that means a number of monks are walking around or — yes, judging from the number of cow patties — it is a free-roaming area for cattle. We had to stop and pass carefully by two huge cows on our descent off Azet.
Cows at the summit of the Azet
The descent, while obviously steep, was pretty cold. For each climb, it was strip down to as little as possible, sweat your ass off, even though the temperature was around 15°C (59° F), and then stop at the summit to put on as much gear as possible before the descent. Then freeze.
At the bottom of the descent, one comes to Loudenville. We went around a pretty lake and made our way over to the base of the climb of the Peyresourde. This climb was used yesterday in the Tour de France. It was hot, while cold, ascending. At the top was the Trek Travel van where I pulled over to refill my two bottles — both empty. Ate some pretzels, energy bars, and found the super-secret stash of Snickers. Mmm, Snickers.
Actually, the van had been at the top of Azet earlier but because of our bonus miles, we had missed it. But not now.
One of our riders had already decided to ride in the van and he lent his rain slicker to James for the descent. James had only a jersey and arm warmers. I had a jacket with removable sleeves which made it a vest. It rocked.
Dave Thackrey, Donna Thackrey, Peter Pellicano
The descent off the Peyresourde to Luchon could have been great in good weather conditions. But the cloud cover was so thick we were getting soaked descending and were on the verge of hypothermia. This side of the mountain had straight roads but visibility was so bad, plus the roads were wet, one could not let go of the brakes. It was a shame. When you could see the line in the road change slightly you weren’t sure if it was merely a subtle change in the road or a nasty 180° hairpin curve. And I have yet to see a single sign in the Pyrenees warning of a curve ahead and a recommended safe speed to use.
Luchon – Our group ate at the restaurant on the right
We reached Luchon about the time most of our group was getting ready to roll out. They had just finished a big lunch and some had already called it quits for the day. The van was taking them back. I met our tour guide, Nicole Kimborowicz, plus Matt McDonald and Peter Pellicano who were going back over the Peyresourde. I didn’t want to abandon Rich and James but Rich had basically declared that, after lunch, he was taking a shuttle and James was unsure.
I didn’t want to eat lunch then have no one to bike back with and I was riding back. And I was afraid sitting outside I would get too cold.
So I skipped lunch and jumped in with the Nicole group. That was an excellent idea. The worse thing I could have done was to sit down, get something heavy in my stomach, get cold in my wet clothes, stiffen up, then attack the Peyresourde — the same HC climb the Tour used yesterday.
The same recipe followed — climb the Peyresourde, put on as many warm clothes for the descent, then let ‘er rip. Although not let it go too fast. It was just yesterday off the descent of the Peyresourde that Jens Voigt had his front tire blow out and he crashed hard.
Nicole and I rode together while Matt and Peter flew up the mountain. Nicole probably wanted to go with them but was a good trooper and stayed with me.
After our safe descent of the Peyresourde, my group didn’t want to return the route we came — up and over the Azet again. So we took the valley road back to Arreau and St. Lary. On our way into St. Lary, I went ahead solo through town and climbed partially back up the Azet to take pictures.
I finished the day with probably the most miles (74) and vertical feet of climbing (9600) of anyone in the group today. It was a great day on the bike.
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.
