Tamy Quigley - peaceonabike

SAINT LARY-SOULAN, FRANCE

From my hotel in Toulouse, I had about 500 meters to walk to our meeting place, the Novotel Hotel. Inside the lobby were some of our riders about to embark on a week-long Trek Travel trip in the Pyrenees. It was also the last week of the Tour de France.

It was a beautiful morning and I had just my one suitcase to wheel to the hotel. Trek Travel would supply the bikes. I saw a couple of our group from Northern Virginia as well as some strange faces. We boarded a motorcoach for a two-hour ride to Arreau in the Pyrenees.

My first introduction on the bus was to Derek and Aimee from Redding, California. When I told them they probably knew a friend of mine I could see them scoffing. But they did know my friend, Tamy.

Then I met Ed and Nancy. 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.

I could overhear some introductions. Name. Location. Occupation. Someone asked Nancy what she did and she seemed taken aback. And then she said, “go on bike trips.”

Around noon we arrived in the French village of Arreau. We had two of our Trek Tavel guides on the bus and two were in Arreau. Dave and Marquette had unloaded all our bikes for the week plus set up a beautiful-looking lunch for us in a small park. It was perfect – except there seemed to be dog poop everywhere. For all the Euro-loving in the U.S. there is one thing we do better in the U.S. than they do in France – pick up after our pets.

Our bikes were all on racks with our names affixed to labels on each bike. Many of us brought our own pedals and saddle and the guides were willing to install them but most, including me, did our own installation. And fitting. We got a brief overview of the week and did a group introduction. I could never remember all the names.

Guide Marquette Kelly speaking to the Group

After lunch, 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.

And then we did. I thought we were headed to the hotel in St. Lary and may have not heard the full plan for the day. We rolled past the hotel where we would stay for three days and exited St. Lary.

Rolling through the valley from Arreau to St. Lary. The bikes with the placards on the handlebars are carrying directions.

We turned to find the base to the climb up Pla d’Adet. It was a steep one. It averaged more than 8% with a mile section of more than 12%. It was 6.6 miles (11km) to the summit.

And it was HOT. It was 96° (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. Until today I had never heard of, or remembered, Pla d’Adet. But I won’t forget.

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 mountain.

Summit of the Pla d’Adet seeing the last sunshine of the day

After 30-45 minutes on the summit, we got to ride back down the mountain on the same road we just climbed. 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. I was very technical (lots of hairpin curves that one had to slow down for) and could be very dangerous. My average speed down was only 20 mph. That was a lot of slowing in sharp curves.

Today would offer me a life lesson. I always knew that I could never climb like the pros but always thought that when I got to France I could descend like them. It wasn’t even close. And while they have the advantage of racing on a closed road and I had to stay to the right of the yellow center line, it was much more than that. They take death-defying risks for their glory and our entertainment. We brake. They lean. I gained a new appreciation for their bike-handling skills today.

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!

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 into the restaurant.

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.

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*In the Pyrenees the signs are marked for the next kilometer. So the sign I saw that indicated 9% average gradient was for the next kilometer and not to the summit.

SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA

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.

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.

It was a long but rewarding day. Glad to be back in California.