Today was a hot, tough, awesome day – 40oC, lots of climbing and some great descending.
After a night spent barking like a seal for fish (good moaning alveoli), I think I’d better get an early start on the peloton and head out into the cool crisp mountain air. There’s about 1000m of climbing up to the Col de la Cayolle, I’m huffing ‘n a puffing, and can hear a marmot’s whistling laugh. Later on, another marmot is lying in the road snoozing, or possibly making a joke about my ascent rate.
One of the group, Ian, catches me up half-way providing enjoyable Bolton dialogue and gentle pacing for the rest of the climb. The col monument is buzzing with swaggering leathery bikers, their bikes and a drone they are using to record their leathery conquest. While they swept gracefully past me on the ascent, they are distinctly less fluid when detached from their bikes.
More of us arrive at the summit and we slurp sliced watermelon and re-fuel. The descent is blissful with tight switch-backs at first then carving, ski-like turns. #poogarmin tells me there’s a 150m of climbing ahead. It’s an odd profile, steeply up and down, but a smirk and relief when I realise this portrays the inability of the device to factor in tunnels.
Mr Trek Emonda and I fly through a series of stunning one-way tunnels cut through the purple coloured rocks along the valley side. The views of the valley falling away to my left are jaw-dropping.
The last dregs of the descent are eked out to a lunch stop in Entervaux. We sit in the shade, but the heat is building; this could be the hottest day of the trip.
I hop onto the back of the JuJoBra train (and jokingly take the lead) for a gentle post-lunch ride to the foot of the next climb, a 700m haul from Puget-Theniers.
The climb is a struggle; the Garmin has topped 40oC (later reaching 42oC) and I’m coughing my lungs up. But it’s the last day, the penultimate ascent, and I’m going to get stuck in. Others are struggling a little too…
Cool as a cucumber, literally: he’s parked in the shade with an ice box of drinks, Martin is waiting at the top. Not sure quite what he thinks of us. Why are we putting ourselves through this pain and suffering? We could be melting our bodies into the sun loungers of Nice. But it’s lovely to see him, he is perfectly timed as ever, and has all the supplies we need.
Briefly chilled, we sweep back out into the sunshine and power east along the baking back of the hill, passing through exquisite hideaway villages of Les Crottes and Touton and Tourette du-Chateux, then finally, down to the valley floor.
View to south from near Touton
The Final Countdown is a kitsch favourite song one of my daughters plays well on her kazoo. I inwardly giggle that has it popped into my head on the final climb of the trip. Brains; what are they like? With some light swearing, we start the climb, we’re all clearly a bit fatigued, even the train drivers. It is a rare day indeed when a mere 400m ascent is broken with a stop for an iced coke, but we all readily pull over. Some discarding shoes and socks to cool further. Taking inspiration from the 1980s Timotei ad, Brandon and I plunge our pink, boiled heads into the water trough (think the Timotei woman was probs more photogenic here).
Of course we make the final summit. It’s a source of inspiration, no matter the pain and torment, summits are always reached. My lurgied lungs are sulking, and I cough like a mad dog as we storm down the hill. A bit giddy, we naughtily race through the Nice traffic, switching lanes and setting horns tooting. Van driver Graham is waiting outside the hotel. We pull up and let out a few ‘whoops’ of excitement (it might be only me that does this).
We’ve ridden over 1000km, and up nearly 15,000m of ascent. Nearly nine miles straight up (to my metric-adverse colleagues who kept wibbling about feet: over 50 years now…).
A few remaining things to do. We dismantle and pack the bikes, shower and salve our saddle sores, then get ready to parade our Farmers Tans to the beautiful chic, Niçoise.
Thank you to the awesome @YorkCycleworks for lending me the handsome Mr Emonda SL6. Not a sausage of a mechanical over the entire trip, the cornering of a weasel, and a thousand watt-smile generator. It’s am awesome bike.
Finally, I cannot turn the lights out on this post series without thanking all of you lovely folks for donating your hard-earned cash to Bolton Lads and Girls Club. At time of typing, we’re already at £3,185. With rider donations coming shortly, I think we’ll hit the target 🙂 Hopefully, my blog shows how cycling is a great medium for allowing the mind to relax, wander and flourish. The BLGC provides young people with activities and support when and where they need it so they can flourish too. If you’re still feeling incumbered with extra cash, then here’s the link: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/blgcitalianclassics
