Amateur cyclists will be getting twitchy this week as they wait for the
announcement on Thursday of the route for the 2008 Etape du Tour. The Etape
is one of a series of increasingly popular challenge events known as cycling
sportives. These are serious and fun – fun in that you get to meet hundreds
of other cyclists, serious in that you have to pedal a demanding route and
get a taste of what it’s like to be a cycling professional.
The Etape du Tour is the grandaddy of them all. The course is a one-day
section of the Tour de France that winds through the Pyrenees or Alps. Last
July’s 196km (120mile) course over five peaks from Foix to Loudenvielle was
said to be the most gruelling in the event’s 15-year history.
The French organisers had had enough of Johnny Etranger arriving with a
saddlebag of butties and bravado only to abandon after the shock of the
first mountain. And so they put word out they had picked a course to weed
out the boutique bikers from the serious enthusiast.
Those who went on recces to the Pyrenees to check out the route returned with
tales of horror (to see for yourself go to tinyurl.com/2u9em4). Cycling
Weekly said it would be “suicidal” for first-timers. “Think long and hard
before signing up,” wrote Mike Cotty, last year’s first British finisher.
“No amount of ego prior to the event will get you through – there’s no
hiding on a stage like this one.”
Undaunted, I set off with three cycle buddies, Howard, Tim and John. How bad
could it be? Each of us had ridden at least one Etape. Okay, 2006 was so
godawfully hard I climbed Alpe d’Huez dragging my lungs behind me and
finished in an embarrassing 9½ hours.
My training plan on the last couple of Etapes centred on riding a 100 miles a
week for a few months, stepping that up to 150 miles in the last few panicky
weeks, and eating a vast amount the morning of the race. That secret
breakfast menu in full: a litre of porridge and syrup, four chocolate
croissants, two ham and cheese sandwiches, two yoghurts, fruit juice, three
mugs of tea and the scraps from everyone else’s plate. It’s dead scientific:
if you haven’t eaten to the point of bodily eruption you won’t make it.
Since the race starts at 7am, this means breakfast is served at 4am.
Last July the first flat 20km allowed everyone to find a rhythm and settle
down. We took it easy – too many people get jittery and end up in a crash.
Any ride with 8,000 entrants and 5,000 metres of climbing doesn’t warrant a
sprint start. And at least 2,500 starters aren’t going to make it to the
finish anyway.
The first climb of Col de Port (11km at 7%) was a joy with the mountains still
exhaling morning freshness. The descent through a score of hairpins with few
crash barriers embodied the carefree appeal of the Etape.
The French honour the amateur race with closed roads but make little
concession for health and safety tick sheets. Plunging down mountains at
more than 50mph is exhilarating and strangely addictive. Having climbed
under your own steam in the first place, you feel you’ve earned this rush.
With a Gallic shrug the organisers just let les coureurs get on with it. If
you don’t make the time cut at various points you get swept up, stripped of
your race number and loaded into a bus – the feared broom wagon.
The next section was a long valley descent by the Arac River. I’d lost regular
contact with my friends so I tried to tuck in with a group to dodge the wind
but nobody wanted to work together or take a turn at the front. I joined
another bunch who were happy to share the load. We’d ridden 90km before
Portet d’Aspet, the second climb. The worst was yet to come.
After stuffing down a couple of gloopy carbohydrate gels, we attacked Portet
d’Aspet (6km at 7%), a short, sharp climb. The heat seeped through and I
settled to a rhythm of churning out the pedal strokes to the steady drip of
sweat on the crossbar. Cresting the summit, we were off down a
helter-skelter of a descent. This is where the Olympic champion Fabio
Casartelli was killed in the 1995 Tour de France after crashing. It was a
sobering moment and most riders slowed briefly to nod at his memorial.
No sooner was the descent over than Col de Menté kicked up. The signs said it
was a 11km climb, longer than expected, so I necked some more gels and a
congealed sandwich. By now I had lost my three pals completely and was
grinding it out with some French club riders. It was getting much harder.
I was overheating and needed a rest stop. At the summit was a cafe with cage
of wolves (yes, real ones). There was also a world-class bunfight taking
place to get served at the feeding station. There was nothing for it, I had
to press on.
My friends were suffering too. I learnt later John was crippled by cramp on
the climb up Col de Menté. Refusing to panic, he sat down to a pasta lunch
at the cafe, petted the wolves and took a nap under a tree. Howard threw up
from the effects of heat and overexertion and Tim nursed him back to his
bike. It was still 80km to the finish with two mountains in the way. We were
falling apart at the seams.
The real ogre was Port de Balès (20km at 5-10%), a lumbering, forested monster
of gushing streams and deep dark valleys. On the ascent farmers had scrawled
graffiti on the roads protesting about the reintroduction of wild bears. It
was interminable. Nobody was speaking. I weaved about seeking shade. It
would have been a blessed relief to have been dragged off by a passing bruno
and dismembered in a culvert.
The heat was in the high thirties and climbing faster than I was. The road had
just been tarmaced out of respect for the Tour pros, but it had melted,
gumming up tyres and brakes with a gritty treacle. We were cycling up a
1,755-metre sticky toffee pudding.
Back at the foot of Port de Balès John hadn’t made the time cut and a gendarme
tried to flag him down and send him to the broom wagon. John dodged him,
ripped off his race number and dashed for the mountain. He’d come this far
and he wanted to finish whether or not it was an official time.
Near the summit I was getting dehydrated. I saw riders dismount and elbow cows
out of the way to get to their drinking trough. I joined the stampede of
mooing, and splashing before the descent.
The last climb was a Tour favourite, the Peyresourde (9km at 7.8%), a long
open sweep followed by exposed hairpins at the top. The heat and long
grinding day had taken their toll – I lost count of the £3,000 Pinarellos
and Colnagos being pushed the last mile to the top. I passed Howard and Tim
taking a rest in the shade – I didn’t stop, I’d never have got back on
again. Cresting the summit on my Serotta was exquisite. It was downhill all
the way. It had been my longest day on a bike – 11 hours. Never again.
A week later Alexander Vinokourov, the Tour favourite, blasted through the
same stage. He made an early break and won in 5hr 34min – half my
heat-addled time. It was a bravura performance. Truly unbelievable: he
tested positive for blood doping and was sacked by his team.
Will we be back next year? Well, let’s take a peek at the route first when
it’s announced this week (see www.letapedutour.com). How hard can it be?
Preparing for the Etape du Tour
How to get there
The French organisers, www.letapedutour.com, no longer accept individual
entries – you have to go through a tour group such as www.sportstoursinternational.co.uk.
It’s also worth booking a training camp. Sports Tours runs one in Lanzarote
in January. It has great routes and lots of tips for the big event. Budget
airlines usually carry bikes for a small charge – book in advance.
The bike
People have done it on mountain bikes and tandems. But a properly fitted
lightweight road bike is the best choice. Play safe and use a triple or
compact chainset to spin yourself out of trouble on climbs. For off-the-peg
bikes try www.gbcycles.co.uk. For a
custom-fit titanium Serotta try www.cyclefit.co.uk.
Eating
Your body will use about 8,000 calories during the race so it’s important to
eat and drink regularly. Pick a carbohydrate energy drink like SIS (Science
in Sport), www.scienceinsport.com,
and energy bars or gels. Sip a drink every 20 minutes. Fill up the night
before with a big meal of pasta or porridge. The body can store only about
500g of carbohydrate in glycogen in the muscles. You should aim to replace
60g every hour. If you end up on a mountain trying to burn your fat stores,
you’ll be wrung out like a dishcloth.
Training
In the months prior to the Etape you should cycle at least 100 miles a week
with lots of hill repeats. Join a club and get used to riding in a tight
bunch – being tucked in the middle can save 40% of your energy. If a pro
cyclist has 5% body fat and a healthy amateur 14%, the pro will expend 6%
less energy on a hill. So lose some weight.
More rides
Test your legs with a sportive closer to home:
Lifeforce Creation Dragon Ride, www.dragonride.co.uk
L’Etape du Dales, www.etapedudales.co.uk/index.htm
