Wrapped in yellow after my return to Céret having completed a Grand Tour totalling over 5,000 kilometres and ascending the best part of 60,000 metres in just over a month.
In February 2019 I reached the grand old age of 60 and by way of marking this milestone I devised a plan to cycle all of that year’s Tour de France route and - just to make it a little bit tougher - all the bits between the stages. But running a small but growing cycle tour business meant that time was short and planning and advertising the challenge became impossible. So the idea was to postpone things for a year to allow time for me to garner more sponsors and organise the trip and PR properly. And then . . . well we all know what happened in 2020. Covid hit, I got it and was advised by the docs that to attempt such a challenge shortly afterwards would not have been wise. So another year’s training bit the dust.
The uncertainty continued into 2021 and it was only in very late May that I decided to push the button on the challenge and do it unsupported. I reckoned it was now or never. If the pandemic lifted I’d be too busy running a cycle tour business again in 2022 so let’s hang the consequences and seize the day! The irony of course is that someone who spends his life planning trips in detail for his clients to the nth degree had effectively leaped out of an open window and was hoping for as soft a landing as possible!
The stage from Cluse to Tignes contained 4,500 m of climbing - all with 10 kg of luggage strapped to my back and bike.
I set off with a rucksack on my back which worried many of my friends following me on my Facebook page and Strava - and indeed was a bit on the heavy side. I left in such a rush to try and beat the forecast rain (I didn’t by the way!) I forgot my phone charger! My Oakleys broke before I’d pushed a pedal in anger necessitating constant readjustment on descents. By the time I was less than two hours from my house in Céret I was soaked to the skin, descending a road awash with not just the water from the torrential rain but the small pieces of gravel the local council had put down to resurface the road for the pros. I have climbed this road more quickly than I descended it that day!
The rain abated and I pushed on towards Font Romeu but it was getting gloomy as I climbed to Mont Louis and I was fearful of not finding a place to stay (I’m too old to camp for God’s sake!) so I checked into a hotel there - or at least I tried to! The lady at reception scowled at me when I asked if she had a room, ‘Oui’. ‘And how much is it?’ ‘70 euros’. ‘OK - and is the restaurant open’ ‘No, its past 7.30pm and everything in France closes then,’ - it doesn’t but I persisted - ‘And where can I keep my bike ‘Here’ - she gestured at the reception. ‘OK, I’ll be leaving early around 6.30. That won’t be a problem?’. ‘This doesn’t open until 7.30’. ‘OK can I keep my bike in the room?’ ‘No’. ‘Why not?’ ‘Because, it is not possible’. At that point I decided I’d rather sleep under a hedge than give this establishment my money so I left with the best attempt at a flounce I could, with the parting words ‘Tu n’est pas sympa!’ Even with the impolite use of the informal ‘tu’, ‘You are not very nice’ is hardly Wildean cutting wit but it was the best I could muster at the end of a long afternoon!
Fortunately, as I left the hotel I discovered a pizza restaurant no more than a dozen pedal strokes away (thanks Mrs Non Sympa for telling me!) who were as ‘sympa’ as ‘sympa’ could be, finding me a phone charger to use, feeding me and recommending several places to stay within a few kilometres radius. Nevertheless I was frazzled and this was just day one! At this point I doubted if I could complete this challenge and the negative thoughts crowded in.
But the next day dawned - as it always does - and as the clouds lifted from the mountains that surrounded me so they did in my mind as I completed the route to Font Romeu. I grabbed a coffee, a coke and two pains aux raisins - which became my breakfast of choice on the trip usually after a couple of hours riding. Climbing into and out of Andorra is spectacular of course, but I can never quite get past the tacky commercialism of the place. At least they had a sunglass shop where I could replace my broken Oakleys. I had also given myself a good talking to and decided that goal setting had to be much more flexible. If this trip became a race I wouldn’t last the course.
At the summit of the Col de la Colombière - the final climb on stage 8 -as the Tour enters the Alps.
And when I say I gave myself a talking to it was almost quite literally that. I discovered I had an optimistic ‘go for it’ self who always wanted to push on - do that extra 10 kilometres - and a more conservative, pessimistic self who was usually looking to take a break. The great thing was that the optimistic self always seemed to con the pessimistic self into his way of thinking - even when the pessimistic self knew full well that he was being conned.
OS: ‘C’mon we can do 60 km today before breakfast can’t we?’
PS: ‘I guess so but we will need to stop for food straight away afterwards.’
OS: ‘Yeah but let’s do at least 60km and then worry about that.’
PS:’ OK but it’s double pains aux raisins and Coke for sure afterwards, right?’
OS: ‘For sure.’
Throughout the above exchange the PS knows full well that after 60km there is nowhere to stop for the promised food for at least another 10 km but still allows himself to be persuaded.
On occasion the PS did win out and on a day with torrential thunderstorms forecast and a descent of the notorious Col de Portet d’Aspet on the itinerary, discretion won the day and I stopped riding after lunch and booked into a nice hotel. Likewise after ascending the Tourmalet shrouded in cloud with the 10 kilograms and luggage weighing like 20 the PS persuaded the OS that an early ascent of the Luz Ardiden climb would be better than a late evening attempt. I think the cold beer in the bar next to my hotel might have proved decisive!
Dean Thompson’s wonderfully restored farmhouse in Bertren from which he runs Pyractif Cycle Tours and which was home for a couple of days
At this point I’d like to thank Dean Thompson of Pyractif Cycling for putting me up and putting up with me for a couple of days while in his neck of the woods. His hospitality and calm advice when I thought I had shin splints which turned out to be an infected insect bite was invaluable. He is a star and I owe him more than I can say.
Likewise I have to thank Paul O’Connor and Jessy for their offer of bed and board in Rousillon, and riding with Pete and his friends Kevin and Dave the next day on the stage - which involved a double ascent of Ventoux - was a real highlight. You are lovely generous people and again I can’t find the words to say thank you enough.
It was while staying with Dean that I realised having had the insect bite scare that I needed to cut myself a little slack. The challenge of riding every stage of the Tour (apart from the last one in Paris) and the bits in between was tough enough and the forecast for a 3 day fine weather window in Brittany whose capriciously wet climate is notorious, decided me on cycling to Bordeaux and transferring to Brest via train to ride the stages from 1 to 14 rather than ride the 650 kilometres between Saint-Emilion and the beginning of stage 1. I reckoned that I’d rather take advantage of that good weather and complete every Tour stage than cycle those ‘dead miles’, bearing in mind I still had the Alpine weather to contend with too and the forecast was not looking propitious.
So after a short hop of just 58 kilometers from Saint-Emilion to Bordeaux I headed to Brest via Paris courtesy of SNCF. The weather window held good and I whistled through Brittany as a result. On stage 1 (Brest to Landerneau) I was passed by a group in Arkea Samsic kit - the team recceing the stage I thought. It was only after I had encountered two similar groups that I realised it was a corporate event for the team’s supporters and sponsors headed up by a couple of neo pros in each group riding the stage route. I tagged along, welcoming the draft as you can imagine, but when the group paused to regather at the top of a short climb I said my ‘Mercis’ and carried on my way, joking that I was the breakaway and that they, as the peloton, would doubtless catch me up. I can report that the stage went to the breakaway . . .
Transferring from Tignes to Albertville meant more climbing. Here I rest briefly after ascending the Col du Tra.
The next batch of stages and links were probably the hardest of all. Long rolling ‘flat’ stages that might still involve 2000 metres of ascent that a peloton travelling at 45-50 kph would fly over, proved far more tiring for a single rider and his luggage. It was then that optimistic self had to work very hard indeed.
The Alps along with the double Ventoux stage it seemed would be the final hurdle, but despite some horrendous weather which largely I was lucky enough to avoid, actually they passed without too much stress. The stage from Cluses to Tignes was a long day, but unlike the rolling roads of central France you knew what was coming and could tick off each climb as a job done, whereas the seemingly endless up and down of the previous days was both physically and mentally exhausting. Thanks to my friends in Roussillon the Ventoux stage was a real pleasure as I have said.
Having ridden from Malaucène to Saint Paul Trois Chateaux, I then rode three back-to-back Tour stages. From Saint Paul Trois Chateaux to Nimes to Carcassonne to Quillan. In total over 600 kilometres and at an average of over 2000 meters of climbing each day. Arriving in Nimes felt like coming home as the sun warmed my back. The Ardèche and its gorges were stunning but tough, and the final sting in the tail of the stage to Quillan, the Col de Saint Louis packs a double digit gradient punch for its first three kilometres. But then all that remained was to transfer back to Céret: a short hop of around 100 kilometres which after a 15 kilometre gentle climb from Quillan was downhill for the next 30 kilometres. My legs felt strong and despite the sores on my back and behind my optimistic self congratulated my pessimistic self on his perseverance as I climbed the final climb into the village of Llauro from where I knew I would descend back to Céret and the welcoming party of my friends and family.
A great adventure. Thanks to everyone who has donated to my charities, sent me messages of encouragement and generally supported my efforts. Your help was invaluable. Now to work out what’s next . . . maybe you’ll come and join me?
You can make a donation to any of my four charities, Bowel Cancer UK. Barnado’s, Bloodwise or Bike4Cancer by clicking this link
A few days after my return to Céret I got to ride with Lachlan Morton, the EF Education Nippo team pro, on his version of an alternative Tour de France.