July 2002 Diary
July 6th - Two Degrees and fresh snow on the Col du Galibier
In 2001, the Marmotte had turned into a day of survival in the mountains and I was looking forward to finally riding the event with sunshine, dry roads and a chance to see what time I could do. I'd ridden eight hours 15 minutes in 2000 and seven hours 51 minutes last year and was hoping to be near seven and a half hours in 2002. These plans went out of the window as the predicted bad weather forecast came true, and a day of colder temperatures and rain arrived. The local mountain weather forecast even predicted snow down to 2,500 metres on a day when we had to climb to 2,646 metres to cross the Col du Galibier. It didn't look good as the rain fell heavily in Bourg d'Oisans, thirty minutes before the Depart.
The course was the same as ever, starting with the 2067m Col de la Croix de Fer, before the 1566m Col du Telegraphe and then the giant 2646m Col du Galibier. All this before the final climb to the Alpe d'Huez, 14 kilometres, 21 hairpins and the finish line. 174 kilometres in total and 5,000 metres of vertical climb.
The one good thing about the day was that I had dossard number 72. I'd ridden well last year and finished in 189th place and I could start in the first group of 400 riders. The rain was falling heavily at the start, and at just after quarter past seven, we were off. The group made good speed and I spent the first five minutes moving towards the front of the bunch so that I was sheltered, but not using too much energy. There were plenty of strong riders that would be up the road as soon as the climb started so I was happy to sit in and let them do the work.
As with the year before, there were unnerving moments on the flat roads when pulling on the brakes, I found that nothing was there. The rain was falling so heavily and the roads were so wet that my wheels were coated in water. If the group would have had to stop suddenly, there would have been a huge pile of cyclists in the road. We passed through Allemont and I stayed near the front when climbing the barrage above the town. Looking back along the road I could see that our group was on it's own by a few hundred metres and there was only one other group in sight, and they were still in the town as we were climbing the dam. The dam was lined with people, out shouting encouragement, and I could only presume that they had friends and family riding the event.
As the group sped towards the 2067m Col de la Croix de Fer, I found myself in the first ten riders and I considered attacking on the small rise past the electricity station, just to say that I'd led the Marmotte. I didn't and thought it better to save my legs for the last two climbs. It was going to be a long day, and experience told me the need to conserve energy.
When the climb started, the group were riding hard and I managed to stay in contact for the first kilometre. After that, I knew I would wear myself out before the end if I continued to try and follow the pace being set and I allowed myself to drop back. This was the third time of riding the event, and I wanted to manage my legs. I rode at my pace and after Rivier d'Allemont, groups were forming on the road and the lead riders were out of site. It was still raining heavily.
The cloud hung on the high mountains while climbing the Croix de Fer, and the streams and rivers that tumbled down the mountainsides were full of new water. All the climb, I kept seeing riders riding back down the Col, obviously not wanting to spend the best part of their day in the horrible conditions. I couldn't blame them, and constantly thought about it myself.
I didn't stop at the feeding station at the top of the Col as I was carrying enough to get me to the feeding station on the Col du Galibier. I made a point of carefully descending the Croix de Fer on the wet roads. After seven kilometres of descending, I saw one rider picking himself out of the grass at the side of the road just before St Sorlin d'Arves. It was on the one turn that I made a point of remembering as I'd nearly taken the bend too quickly on the training ride the week before.
After the village, a group formed with about ten riders. The group soon split as we descended into cloud, with the visibility reduced to following the wheel of the rider in front. Riders in front shouted to warn the riders behind of cars coming up the col, and all I could so was follow and pass riders that were slowing down and letting gaps open. We passed through one section of road where work has been carried out, and it was a mud bath. The guy next to me said it was now more like Paris Roubaix than the Alps, and I was covered in mud after being sat behind him. After the two small climbs, the descent to St Jean de Maurienne began, we dropped under the cloud and into heavy rain. The mud that had covered my bike and my body was soon washed off, and on the long fast straights, I was squinting as the rain was hitting my eyes.
I sat in the group on the valley roads, as two riders seemed content to pull the rest of us along for the 12 kilometres to St Michel de Maurienne. The trees close to the road were being blown around and the rain was coming across the valley at an angle, but thankfully it was a tailwind. I worried about the top of the Col du Galibier, as the week before, the last eight kilometres of the Galibier had been incredibly windy. I wasn't sure if my legs would be up to that.
I filled my water bottle from the fountain in St Michel de Maurienne, and joined the climb of the Col du Telegraphe. With 12 kilometres at seven percent, it was the easiest of the days climbs but still 34 kilometres to the top of the Col du Galibier. I stayed in my 39-26 for the whole climb not wanting to use up precious energy that wound be needed on the Alpe d'Huez. The rain was coming down heavier than ever and on two occasions, lightning hit the mountains nearby, lighting up the sky and then sending thunder echoing around the valley. I cycled my own pace, sometimes catching riders but more often, being passed by other riders. In the last kilometre, a group of ten riders caught me, and I stayed with them.
Following the brief descent after the Telegraphe, we passed through Valloire. The village was busy with a quad bike festival and dozens of the four-wheel bikes were tearing up a field just above the town. The first two kilometres of climbing out of Valloire were steep, and I finally seemed to be finding my climbing legs and staying with riders. Most riders, including myself, stopped at feeding station outside Valloire before riding the easiest part of the Col du Galibier up to the Plan Lachat. The road climbs gradually for three kilometres before the seven and eight percent slope returns. I was joined by a rider from another Grenoble club, Seyssins, and we chatted for a few minutes. He explained that he wasn't feeling the best and last year, he'd ridden seven hours ten but he wasn't going to do that today. We stayed together for a couple of kilometres before he dropped back.
After Plan Lachat, the kilometre to the first hairpin on the southern side of the valley burned my legs and I couldn't get comfortable sitting in the saddle or riding standing up. The gradient had increased from seven percent to ten, and it felt noticeably harder. There were regular hairpins here and it was good to get a few seconds of recuperation on each hairpin. Below, I could see lone cyclists making their way up the climb, but as I climbed higher they disappeared below me, hidden by cloud.
The wind I had worried about wasn't there and for the next few kilometres, I tried to keep a steady pace. From the top of the Galibier, it would be an hour of descending to Bourg d'Oisans and I knew I could afford to go into the red zone from here to the top and then be able to recuperate on the downhill. There was an eery silence between kilometre seven and four, as I was riding on my own with cloud obscuring the peaks and the Col felt a desolate and lonely place.
The high mountains around the Col du Galibier were shrouded in cloud, and in places, I could see new snow that had fallen beneath the level of the Col. The weather predications had been correct and snow had fallen in July.
As I rode, the kilometre stones steadily counted down the distance to the Col, although the Marmotte organisers had placed their countdown signs a few hundred metres further on from the official stones that had been there for years. For the last two kilometres, my legs were quickly running out of energy. I was happy that they had resurfaced the road, but it didn't help and as I passed the refuge and weaved up the road. I felt shattered. Photographers were taking photos and I couldn't even find the energy to look composed. I needed the summit and I needed some food.
I felt better on the last three hundred metres, the gradient had eased and I was cycling past rocks covered in a dusting of new snow and seeing my breath in the air. I also tried to thank people next to the road for encouraging me. I stopped in the feed station for a few minutes for a cup of tea, and wolfed down dried apricots and fruit cake.
Last year, as I started the descent, the hail had fallen and stung me eyes, but thankfully today, the rain had stopped and there was no hail. It was still desperately cold and still 50 kilometres to the bottom of Alpe d'Huez. I was chilled straight away, losing the feeling in my feet and quickly afterwards, my hands. Above the Lautaret, I looked at my legs and they were scarlet. The large crowd at the Lautaret cheered and as soon as we joined the descent to Bourg d'Oisans, the headwind picked up.
For the next hour, I descended for most of the time alone. I was cold as I have ever been, and in places braking to stop the cold. The faster I went, the more the wind blew and the colder I became. My teeth were chattering and in places, I was almost in tears. The cyclists around me were the same, everybody looking as though they were cycling negatively, and not want to form a group and ride together. The only places I felt warm were the tunnels, which were noticeably warmer and too short.
Before the Barrage du Chambon, I found myself with three cyclists that were riding together. One woman, and two guys from Holland, with their own motorcycle backup. The rider on the back of the motorbike was feeding them, and even started handing me bananas. I still couldn't get warm and was constantly thinking about giving up at the bottom of the Alpe and riding the Marmotton. The only problem was my wife and car was at the top of the climb.
I finally got some warmth on the two uphill sections on the way to the Alpe d'Huez, and felt better for energy drink, food and a slower speed. The crowds in Bourg d'Oisans were larger than I remembered from the previous year, and cheering our group as we arrived. The group had swelled from four to 12, and again it felt very emotional to reach the bottom of the Alpe d'Huez and have people cheering you. I took off my race cape even though it was raining, and went straight for the 39-26. I'd felt shattered on the Galibier, but after eating and drinking on the descent, I felt as though I had some renewed energy in my legs. I didn't have a watch, and I had no idea what the time was or how long it had taken me to get to the bottom of the Alpe.
I'd ridden the Alpe d'Huez earlier in the week as part of the Marmotte preparation, and in my head I was ready for the fourteen kilometre climb to the finish. I knew there would be over an hours climbing and I broke the climb down into three stages, with the hardest and steepest section up to hairpin 16 and the hamlet of La Garde. After that, section two was the next six kilometres to hairpin six where the gradient eased a little. Finally, section three would take me through Huez and up to the ski resort and to 1,800 metres.
The group splintered immediately and I found myself in second position. For the first six hairpins I was content to follow 20 metres behind a Dutch guy in Domo kit. He was making a good pace, and we steadily passed riders on the climb. It was nice to pass the riders who had passed me on the Telegraphe and Galibier, and felt I could do a good climb of the Alpe. I'd done the hardest part and my legs were still good and I felt good mentally.
Halfway up the climb, I passed the Domo guy, and then was subsequently passed by a French chap from a Lyon club. He'd been in my group at the bottom and his acceleration gave him 50 metres on me. He stayed just in front of me to the finish and I couldn't raise my level enough to catch him. I was also passed by two riders from Andorra, and we been around each other all day, with me passing them on occasions and vice versa.
As I passed hairpin seven, a van was allowing a cyclist to hang on a get towed up. Every cyclist or car that passed them showed their disapproval, but they were going so slowly, they wouldn't change my result. I noticed that the rider had turned his number over so it couldn't be seen.
From hairpin four, I was starting to feel really tired but I still felt strong in my head. I was sure that the riders behind were catching me, but I was able to still keep ahead of them and catch other riders that were tiring. The steep gradient from hairpin one into the village was fine and there were no riders close behind as I crested into the village of Alpe d'Huez. I was alone so I didn't have to think about tactics for the last kilometre.
I caught one final rider on the slight rise before the finish and rode the last two hundred metres feeling remarkably in control. I quickly put on my cape and grabbed something to eat from the food tent.
This years winner, Bert Dekker had ridden six hour 39 minutes. Last year, the winner had ridden 6:12, with Bert Dekker coming in 4th with a time of six hour 19 minutes. The conditions felt comparable to the year before but there was a 30 minute difference with the winning time. My time was 7:41:02 for the 174 kilometres, ten minutes faster than the year before and my position was 105, over 80 places better than the year before. Next year, we will have good weather.
