A huge clap of thunder and torrential rain hammering on the roof wakes me at 2am. The alarm goes off at 4.30am and the thunder and lightning is still going hammer and tongs as we drive to the start.
We arrive at the start in Pau and unpack the car in the dark, its bloody cold and wet. There are hundreds of other riders doing the same, everyone is quiet the mood is very sombre. The big decision of the day is what to wear. My guess is it’s going to return to summer temperatures as the day unfolds so I settle on a gilet and arm warmers and hope for the best. Other guys around me are dressed for summer, others are dressed for mid winter.This is quite weird, it’s pitch black and thousands of cyclists ride silently through a fully asleep Pau, it is like a secret gathering.
Andrew is in the 1000–2000 starters pen, I am in the 8000–9000 pen, with 5 minutes between each pen's start, I guess I won’t be seeing him again until the finish. I wait for an hour in the gloom and cold rain, dawn breaks and I am now freezing and my start is still some time away, this wasn’t exactly in the script.There is an American on my left who tells me he has never ever ridden in the rain, he is from San Diego so that is entirely possible, it starts pissing down, he laughs nervously. There are 4 Irish guys on my right, they have bananas gaffer taped to their frames and a slowest times schedule taped to their bars, they want to make it before all the time cut-offs. They are dressed for summer, but they are Irish.
For 30 minutes the early start riders head off on their etape journey, we wait patiently, all I can think of is the huge amount of riders stretched out in front of us flooding the road gutter to gutter.Finally we go, my legs are like blocks of ice and it takes a while to get going, well at least 800 metres anyway. I hook up with a few fast guys and in no time we are doing a 4-man team time trial down through the middle of Pau city. It is like playing dodgems with all the traffic islands, white lines and slow punters in our path. To be fair most people are pretty good they get out of the way quickly and my bunch really gets moving, the group gets bigger and bigger and faster and faster.
We get out of town, still on a wide road we head up a wooded valley at 55km/p/h. We get to Rebenac and turn sharp left into a narrow country road. Immediately there is a huge crash, I squeeze my way through and gas it up the first climb of the day, the climb is not too hard but the road is solid with riders creeping uphill, the road has traffic islands in the middle as well! I just have to wait for the gaps to appear before I go forward, it is like doing hill intervals.
The next 20kms is all up and down on small roads, I pass most riders on the descents, every now and then I see people pulling themselves out of a ditches from over-cooking it in the wet. I thank Michelin for making my special light blue rain tyres, they certainly have plenty of grip. I’m still with some of the same guys, down a 5km descent onto the flat and we get into the village of Nay. We get going again and crank it up, we pass huge groups of riders. I’m lapping it out with a small group of French guys they are all in good nick, 30+ and know how to ride, I wonder if I raced with any of them 20 years ago? It is like a New Zealand scratch bunch in a handicap race.
It pissing down, we are on wide roads so its relatively relaxed, every now and then we dive into a small village, the road drops down into one lane cobbles, there is a crash every time. We get to Benejacq and the first hill, Labatmale, it’s a 471m 3rd category .
A couple of hairpins kick it off, it’s really tough! Cadel Evan’s later says that he finds it so tough he almost gets dropped. My group blows to pieces, a couple of young skinny French climbers disappear up the road, I hang in there with the same 5–6 guys, I’m still cold, it is 8c and worryingly I am eating a lot. I don’t normally need to eat much – something to do with being older I guess. I wonder if I should back it off and let this bunch go – no that is definitely not an option, slogging away on my own would be harder.
We have now done 80km, we turn down a nasty rain soaked descent into Lourdes and there is the first food stop, there are hundreds of punters everywhere all shoveling food down their throats, it looks like a huge rugby match rather an bike race. I keep going.
My bunch keeps hammering along, we catch and pass groups but they are smaller and more spaced out. The starting numbers on the back of riders are now in the 2000–3000, it gives me the impression that I am getting close to the front of the ‘race’. This turns into a bit of an obsession I remember seeing someone with a number in the hundreds at the bottom of the Hautacam.
On to the scond climb of the day, Loucrap another 3rd category, this one would equate to a 1st category in a New Zealand race, it is long and steep. My bunch is down to just 5 of us, we pick guys up and then spit them out.
The 100km mark approaches and the beginning of the Tourmalet is not far away. Into Bagneres de Bigorre we go, out the other side and then into the Vallee de Campan. The top of the Tourmalet is still 40km away but we immediately start climbing, proper climbing as well, inside ring stuff, it dawns on me why the Tourmalet is considered to be so tough, you are buggered by the time you get to the base of the actual climb!
Profile of the stage courtesy of cyclingnews.com - read their TdF Stage 10 report hereThe road just gets steeper and steeper, small steep pinches of gradient in and out of small towns kill your legs, we get to the village of Sainte Marie de Campan the official start of the Tourmalet climb. Out of the 5 guys who I have been with 2 guys stop for a pee, they pass me later at mach1, I pass them several more times as they stop for more pee stops - they should get their prostrate checked. Another couple disappear out of the back, another guy encourages me to ride with him on the climb, I do for a while, but he is riding 39x16 to my 39x21, his pace is slightly too fast for me and I let him go.
The road rears up in a long steep ramp, no corners just a long grind up the side of a mountain. And climb it does, it is bloody steep and there is still a whole 15km to go to the top! It is drizzling, cold and it’s misty all I can see is the 10m in front of me.
There are lots of riders around but every one of them is very quiet, no chatting just breathing. The mist closes in even more and it gets colder the higher I climb. I knock the effort back a bit and start riding conservatively. I ride 34x21 and then change into the 24 when it gets really steep. This is surprising because I am still 10km from the bloody top, from what I have read of the climb it doesn’t get properly steep until 7km to go.I finally get to the steepest part of the climb, the snow shelter, it is so steep I am out of the seat climbing in the 34x27! The ski station of La Mongie emerges out of the mist, even in the murk La Mongie is hellish ugly, it is also the site of the second food stop. I hate stopping but I have to, I am almost out of food…
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