Conference noted::bicycle

    The Raid Pyrenean is a permanent brevet that can be ridden any time
    between June and September (the only reason for this restriction is to
    make sure the high passes are snow-free). It's organised by Cyclo-Club
    Bearnais in Pau.

    The task is simple. Ride from Hendaye on the Atlantic coast to Cerbere
    on the Mediterranean coast (or the reverse) along a set route of 710km,
    over 18 cols adding up to 11 000m of climbing, in less than 100 hours
    elapsed time (four days and four hours).
    
    
    Rod

    The idea was first mooted by the Valbonne posse last autumn. In a
    flurry of mail exchanges, a bunch of us agreed to think about it
    for this year. In spring a dedicated notesfile was set up, dates
    were agreed, and with a general air of apprehension a core of six
    agreed to actually attempt the Raid. The aim would not be to go
    for a performance, no sleep deprivation, simply to finish within
    the time limit. The ride would be unsupported by a car and we'd
    stay at hotels overnight.

    Through the summer I worked on building up miles since you'd
    obviously need good basic fitness. The literature from CC Bearnais
    is interesting on this. In flowery language it declares that the
    Raid isn't only for supermen, but is open to any cyclist looking
    for a physical and mental test along a course that would be as
    much a tour of beautiful landscape as it would be a test of
    endurance. After a slow July, I worked hard in August except for
    the final week and went into the Raid as fit as I could reasonably
    expect, though with worries about my ability to recover overnight
    from what would be long, hard days in the saddle.

    Meanwhile all was not going well on other fronts. Two key members
    of the team were stricken by a hard-to-shake infection in early
    August and dropped out. Then, Alan Paxton and Rod Widdowson, who
    were spending two weeks in the Alps before heading to the
    Pyrenees, phoned me in the pre-Raid week to say that Rod_W was
    dropping out through logistical difficulties and that Alan felt
    tired and despondent and was also thinking of dropping out.
    Damnation. I checked with Rob and he was OK to go. I told Alan
    this, and, in a show of bravado, said I'd go on my own if
    necessary. Thankfully, Alan decided to go. I know that I'm prone
    to becoming depressed on difficult rides, so from my
    point-of-view, the more riders, the better. Group riding bolsters
    your confidence.

    The upshot was that on Monday morning, 31st August, I got off the
    train in Hendaye after a 15-hour journey enlivened by a party of
    Swiss students who insisted on pouring wine down my throat to find
    Alan and Rob, in cycling gear, inside the station building and
    just off their own train from Nice. What's more, my own bike,
    despatched from Geneva two days previously, had arrived in good
    shape. We were all set to relax in Hendaye for the rest of the day
    prior to setting off on the Raid next day.

    Just one tiny problem. Hendaye was in currently in the grip of
    gale-force wind and heavy rain.


    Rod

    Late on Monday afternoon the rain relented enough for me to go on
    a ride. I was feeling twitchy after a week off the bike. Hendaye
    is right on the Spanish frontier, so I did a forty km loop into
    Spain - first time I'd been - enduring strong wind and occasional
    showers. As we went to bed, the tv news showed ships being washed
    onto the beach along the English channel, or, should I say, La
    Manche. The meteo seemed to promise better weather.

    At 7:00 on Tuesday morning the roads were wet and clouds loomed.
    From the cheery light of the hotel's breakfast buffet, outside
    looked grey and uninviting. But hey - we weren't here to enjoy
    ourselves! Around 8:00 we loaded up and set off for our first
    destination - the railway station.

    The way your progress is checked is simple. You are issued with a
    carnet de route with a number of places marked at which you have
    to collect a stamp. Any shop or cafe can do this. So the "Relais
    H, Hall Gare SNCF, 64700 Hendaye" did the business and the clock
    started ticking at 08:20. I sprinted off yelling "Come on! Less
    than a 100 hours left!".

    Of course, we had to stop and take a team photo (did we think we
    would be doing a before/after comparison, I wonder) and chose as a
    location the sea-wall at Hendaye. In low morning sun, large waves
    were kicking up a cloud of spray all along the rocky coast while
    we immortalised ourselves on film.

    The first part of the route skirted the coast before turning
    inland. As a team, we were all over the place, going on ahead,
    lagging behind, complaining about the pace. This was Basque
    country, and they let you know it: signs in Basque script, ETA
    graffiti, the whole bit. In the fields, there were
    peasanty-looking men in berets and blue workclothes.

    The first major climb of the day was the 500m Col d'Osquich (on
    this year's TdF route) which on the way up allowed spectacular
    views of the hilly terrain before a featureless summit, eagles
    wheeling above.

    We came across two cyclos repairing a wheel just before the town
    of Menditte. Shortly afterwards we took the first of many cafe
    stops, although we tried not to let these last too long. We had
    two stamps to collect, at Tardets and Espelette. By the end of the
    day we had got our team act together and could reliably team
    time-trial where the roads permitted it, a mode of travel that
    proved valuable in the succeeding days.

    Our first day's destination was Arudy, 13km away from the base of
    the Col d'Aubisque. The final approaches were on that loose-
    chippings type of surface, rough going on high-pressure tyres. The
    day's statistics were 183km, 2060m of climb, 9 hours start to
    finish riding time.

    In the evening I had a sore backside and felt very tired and
    unsure of our prospects. We were hoping to knock the Raid off in
    four days but at this rate we could easily be cycling on the
    Saturday morning, making a five-day passage just inside the time
    limit. We had until 12:20 on Saturday, after all. Still, it would
    be more satisfactory to do it in four days.

    As a footnote to the day we learned that another Raid party was
    one day ahead of us. They'd caught awful weather on the Monday. On
    the other hand, they were supported by a car, so tough. Enough
    already, let's get some sleep.

    
    Rod

    We were riding racing bikes with lowered gearing and an absolute
    minimum of luggage.

    Me    Raleigh Dynatech pro-titanium (titanium and steel pipes glued
          into alloy lugs), Mavic wheels, Continental Supersport Ultra
          700x23 front and rear. Gearing was a Stronglight 300lx
          52-42-32 triple chainset onto a Hyperglide 12-28 cassette
          with Shimano 105SC rear shifting. I took a chance on the
          chainset, installing it just the day before I sent the bike
          to Hendaye, since it represented a move from 170 cranks to
          175s. In the event this felt natural for me (height 1.83m/6')
          and gave me no problems. Luggage was a 4 litre barbag at the
          front and a 9 litre saddlebag (a hard-to-find item from
          Carradice) in which was some spare cycle clothing and one set
          of lightweight wear for off the bike. With this set-up,
          excess weight wasn't great and handling remained good.

    Alan  Specialized Allez Epic (carbon pipes glued into alloy lugs)
          with Shimano components, including a 48-38-28 biopace triple
          up front and a 13-25 cassette at rear. Alan scored brownie
          points for minimum luggage, getting by with a Cannondale
          barbag and seatpack, and had definitely the lightest bike
          plus luggage combination.

    Rob   Vitus 992 (all alloy construction with ovalized oversize
          tubing and a very fancy headset), Stronglight 300lx 52-42-32
          chainset and Ultegra shifting on a 13-26 cassette. Luggage
          was a Cannondale barbag and a large Carradice saddlebag
          heavily weighed down, we were informed, by a kilo of fruit
          bars.

    The performance of all this equipment was good. No punctures at
    all, one or two small mechanical problems easily fixed. Perhaps
    the only disappointment were the Cannondale barbags whose
    attachment point failed on both examples. Our lowest gears were
    used often on the many climbs we twiddled up at speeds of about
    10km/h.

    
    Rod

    Whereas I was gloomy when I went to bed, I felt cheery in the
    morning. Rob and I cycled up to Laruns together, Alan choosing to
    start more slowly. He didn't like the flats so much but he was a
    hard man to catch on a long climb. And today was the big
    mountains day.

    The weather was spectacular. The freshly-washed air was of limpid
    clarity and not a cloud broke the blueness of the sky (good bit
    that, eh?). In Laruns Rob elected to go straight onto the climb
    while I stopped to buy food so we found ourselves starting the
    first big col all three of us on our own.

    The long climb of the Aubisque was the only one in the whole Raid
    I timed myself on. Early on, this still seemed a relevant thing to
    do. For the record, from the little bridge just outside Laruns to
    the summit cafe at 1709m, a climb of about 1300 vertical metres,
    1:28.

    I'd done this climb in 1990 but in thick cloud so it was a
    revelation on a clear day to see the scale of the surrounding
    countryside being revealed as I ascended. These peaks are folded,
    rocky, tremendous. At the top we regrouped, all arriving within a
    very few minutes of each other and collected a stamp ("tampon")
    for our carnets de route. The cafe owner seemed used to providing
    this service.

    The road down to the Col de Soulor is hacked out of a steep, rocky
    slope. You can see the line of it curving away in front of you.
    The Soulor is a 100m climb before the real descent begins. At the
    bottom of this Alan didn't appear for a while, occasioning me some
    worry - well you do, don't you - until, as he's mentioned here
    already, he told us about the water bottle which had made a
    successful bid for freedom.

    Now there was a long grind to Argeles-Gazost and up again to Luz
    St-Saveur at the foot of the Tourmalet, the climb of which was in
    itself a frightening prospect. Luz turned out to be "the route
    town which wasn't". I'd been relying on buying food there but in
    fact the town is a little bit off the route and I was on the real
    climb before realising this, an irritation that the other two also
    discovered.

    I stopped for a drink and a brief rest and Rob and Alan both
    passed. Remounting, I thought I was set for the full climb but in
    fact raging bonk set in and when I came to the town of Bareges I
    was desperately looking for food, not stopping when I came across
    Rob and Alan. A cafe rescued me with icecream and orangina. Alan
    and Rob set off again separately, so once again we were alone on a
    big hill.

    The Tourmalet is an utter pig. It is so steep, and there are
    micro-variations in gradient, and the road surface is poor, and
    there is tourist traffic and for what seems like hours you can see
    the summit cafe fantastically high up and out of reach. I saw an
    ant crawling across the vast road and felt he was me. The last two
    km to the top were, subjectively, some of the hardest climbing
    I've ever done, although the cols atlas lists them at a mere 9%.
    The summit is at 2115m and it was a dump with construction work
    making everything noisy and dusty. I didn't linger. Just a little
    way down the other side I came across Alan in conversation with a
    Londoner in Pau on business and out on a day ride. Wily character,
    he'd arranged for "the samples to arrive a day or two late".

    I had an enjoyable descent, having a bit of a race with a
    car-borne local who didn't appreciate me getting past him. I was
    faster on the bends but he could take me on the straights. We
    regrouped at St Marie de Campan to get out cards stamped and to
    enjoy the feeling of having conquered the big hill. I had a beer
    there which in my tired condition tasted like possibly the finest
    beer I'd ever drunk. Of such things are memories made. The day
    ended with the Col d'Aspin, a beautiful ascent through pine trees
    and a summit which is the most literally saddle-shaped col I've
    ever seen, before another satisfactory descent to Arreau, our day's
    destination and a very pretty little town.

    "Raid" is a somewhat piratical word, and I felt just a little bit
    like that as we three dusty strangers rode into town and hitched
    our bikes up at the Hotel de France. Not that anyone noticed, of
    course. After the fast-emerging routine of wash-clothes-then-eat,
    we went to bed, tired but happy, at least in my case. Talk had
    turned back to a four-day Raid.

    Day's statistics: Arudy - Arreau, 140km, 3704m, 9:30.


    Rod

    Food is a continuous affair on long rides, far removed from normal
    modes of eating. Carbohydrate-rich snacks are the key. My
    preferred food is pain au raisin, a sort of pastry thing with egg
    and raisins that's moist and tasty, and nectarines and bananas.
    I'm a recent convert to peaches and nectarines. They're
    surprisingly carb-rich, easy to eat on the move and they're not
    dry.

    Other patisserie was a frequent snack, plus once a plate of chips,
    or a small pizza: things like that. Very little meat during the
    day. Lots of water.

    In the evening we ate normal restaurant meals, mostly at the hotel
    we stayed in, with some wine. We had the appetite for these meals
    although a couple of nights I could hardly stay awake to eat them.

    
    Rod

    At 4am in the morning I looked out of the window to see a
    fantastically starry sky. At 7am, first light, some clouds
    streaked the dawn, portending a day that would later be less than
    perfect.

    Thursday was crunch day. To be sure of completing in four days we
    needed to put in the thick end of 200km over a course that
    contained several daunting cols. And whereas I'd gone to bed
    happy, I felt dog-tired this morning and very unsure of how much
    energy remained within me.

    Not a lot to begin with. The day started with a 26km climb up the
    Col de Peyresourde. I ground up behind the two others, no speed in
    my legs. Ironically this was the prettiest climb on the entire
    Tour, up a rural valley in brilliant morning sunshine. I arrived
    at the top in a somewhat taciturn state to find the other two
    about to move off. I rested a few minutes and munched a pain au
    raisin. The thing that woke me up was the descent of the
    Peyresourde, which I did rather swiftly. Determined to make up
    time I descended like a loony, trying out my new ultra-aero
    position. 

    Use this only for straight sections with good visibility. Grip the
    tops of the handlebars near the stem. Lift your bum in the air.
    Pull your head down low, then slide forward till your head is over
    the front wheel and your breastbone over or on the stem. Tuck
    knees and elbows close in. Don't even *think* about trying this
    position unless you know your bike's handling well and are
    confident with it. But if you are, this is a very aero position
    that will let go you alarmingly fast. Note: I accept NO
    RESPONSIBILITY for injury or death resulting from stupidly fast
    descents after reading this note!
    
    At the foot of the Peyresourde, in Luchon, I rejoined Alan and we
    set off down the valley together. Rob was some minutes ahead. Alan
    and I worked well together over the next 20km, making good time.
    Turning right through Chaum we came to the Col d'Ares, 800m, where
    I felt much more at ease than I had earlier. The three of us came
    together at the top.

    Coming towards midday now, and I was hungry. The best we could do
    was score some pre-packed Madeleines (small cakes) in a sold-out
    boulangerie. The weather was clouding over. After a bit more
    up-and-down, we came to the Col du Portet d'Aspet, about 1000m.

    This hill is just ridiculous, frankly. Sections are so steep that
    I felt like I was sliding off the bike backwards (I think the
    worst is about 16%). We ground our way up. At the top we spoke to
    a guy of about 60 on a VTT who was very interested to hear that we
    were doing the Raid. Turned out he did it fifteen years ago, in
    the opposite direction, in the impressive time of 72 hours.

    There followed a 30km descent to St Girond, once again on rough
    roads, all of us hammering individually to a definite cafe stop
    (it was a checkpoint). I wasn't above doing a little sprint past a
    group of old men in a village, but there was an ulterior motive
    for rising out of the saddle, or rather a posterior one: my bum
    was badly chafed and was becoming worrisomely sore. In St Girond
    we all felt tired and ate a lot. The day had gone cold and grey.

    Another long slow climb along the valley floor before the next
    climb, the Col de Port. At the small village of Massat I spied
    what I'd been wanting to see: a pharmacy. I went in and bought
    some skin ointment, "tres efficace," I was assured. This cheered
    me up. The climb itself isn't steep, never over 5%. Alan and Rob
    were ahead somewhere and since I never enjoyed the feeling of
    being last on the road, I tried to speed up. Not climbing
    brilliantly at first, I ate a banana. The rain came on, quite
    heavily, and I felt revived in it and began to go well. Rob had
    stopped to take a photo of me (looking forward to seeing it), I
    pressed on in search of Alan. It was very misty. I took my glasses
    off and that was an improvement. I found Alan stopped at the top.
    The instant I stopped I realised how cold I would quickly become.
    We agreed that this was no place to linger (though Rob said later
    he'd paused for a summit photo!) and descended cautiously
    together. Icily cold at first, the rain soon ceased and we warmed
    up.

    We regrouped at Tarascon, 160km done, around five pm. This had
    been our pessimistic target for the day. However, although tired,
    we felt good enough for another 26km to Ax-Les-Thermes which we
    did in good team style to arrive about 7pm. Were we ever
    knackered. Yet this had been a good day and we were well-placed
    to finish on the Friday. Plus the skin ointment was having a good
    effect on my sore area.

    Day's stats: 197km, 3012m climb, 11:00 time.
    
    
    Rod

    Briefly, Alan was happiest on climbs and not so keen on hammering
    along on flats. Rob on the other hand was an animal there and a
    good man for bit-and-bitting. I enjoyed descents most, but that's
    just me.

    Climbs tended to split us up but we usually regrouped fairly
    quickly. I enjoyed the group riding since it made the whole thing
    a social occasion.

    Digital jerseys were well in evidence.
    

    Rod

    Rob slipped away early, mindful of the l-o-n-g climb that started
    the day: a 26km-long, 1200m-up drag to the 1900m Col de Puymorens.
    Alan and I started together but drifted apart. Never far apart
    though, after a climb lasting 1:45 during which we never cycled
    together, we arrived at the top a minute apart. Convergent
    evolution... Near the top we passed first the new tunnel they're
    building through the mountain, then the road to Andorra.

    The top was hidden in cold blowing mist and once again we weren't
    tempted to linger. On the other side of the hill the sun began to
    come out. Alan and I met Rob in Bourge-Madame, but split up again
    going towards the Col de Perche/Mont Louis, the last significant
    climb of the Raid. My legs absolutely didn't want to know, but I
    absorbed a nectarine and made it to the top, through high country
    with drifting clouds and long views and behind us the line of
    purple mountains we'd come out of.

    We had a long craggy descent off Mont Louis and into the plain
    leading to Perpignan and the Med. Rob and I rode into Prades
    together, 115km into the day's ride, and Alan came along shortly
    after. Prades was delightful, red-tiled roofs, a bubbling fountain
    against which we leant the bikes, and shaded seating for cafes.

    Cafe service in Prades could be improved. The first one ignored
    us, so we moved across the square to another where we ordered
    quickly but had to wait for the food. We were a little bit away
    from the bikes here. A couple of shifty-looking types lingered
    beside our machines, glancing around as if trying to guess their
    chances of a successful theft. I walked across and ostentatiously
    filled a water bottle. They pushed off. I think they really were
    after the bikes. Not that criminality stopped there: Alan and I
    tried to buy some food in a patisserie but no-one was in, loud
    shouts into the back shop having no result. We took what we wanted
    and left money. You can't keep a cyclist away from his food.
    
    On the flat roads across the plain it was warm and sunny but an
    almost gale-force wind made riding difficult, fortunately a wind
    that helped us. By 5pm we were in Elne and ready for the final
    30km to Cerbere. With 15km to go we at last topped a slight rise
    to see the Mediterranean in front of us. For me, that was a good
    moment. The run to the end was hilly as we wound along the coast,
    down into pretty seaside villages then up across headlands. The
    traffic was very heavy, often jammed.

    We rode as a group into Cerbere at 18:20 and made straight for
    "Cerbere International Station", were forced to wait at a level
    crossing as a train rolled out, then found the station cafe and,
    with a slight swagger I fancy, deposited our carnets de route on
    the bartop to be stamped. With some good-humoured joshing, the
    barman obliged.

    So we completed the ride in four days for an elapsed time of 82
    hours.

    Final day's stats: 196km, 2232m, 10 hours.
    Total stats (by my Avocet 50):  716km, 11008m climb.
    

    Rod

    We had a good meal in Cerbere, at which I had oysters for the
    first time: excellent. Rob and I were able to get trains home that
    night so I was back in Geneva early on Saturday morning. Alan had
    to stay an extra day in Cerbere which I don't believe was too
    much of a chore.

    I felt better than I expected after this effort, to which I added
    147km the following Sunday on a local organised ride into the Jura
    mountains to make a week's total of over 900km, a total even John
    Lee might accept. I have picked up a sore achilles tendon which
    isn't clearing up very fast: something new to worry about. 

    Our preparation must have been adequate since we completed the
    ride without disasters or any particular drama. Non-cycling
    colleagues seem almost disappointed by this. Perhaps they'd
    expected something more epic than long day-rides which, it turned
    out, we could cope with. 

    So here's us left at the end of the season with piles of fitness
    but nowhere to go. I'll just have to try and set some fast times
    on my local timed hill. And at least one of us has gone to the
    lengths of buying a mountain bike.
                                   
    It is a good thing to have done.

    
    Rod

    
    But ho wmany miles have you done since your 900km week?  :*)
    
    Nice report, Rod, just upset that I realised early on that I couldn't
    make it. Wimped out again...  :*)
    
    Graham.

    
    	Just had a thought about Rod's excursion to the Chemist. Isn't it
    lucky that he speaks French. Can you imagine the sign language you'd
    need to use to explain what you needed and what it was for? Guaranteed
    to get you arrested in Boots (UK chain of chemists)...  :*)
    
    Graham.

    	Graham,
    
    	I was thinking exactly the same thing.
    
    	What would I do, stand there and point and my bum and make
    	sad faces? 8-)>
    
    	What a hoot!
    
    	Scott

re -.1

France being a civilised biking country, there would have been no problem.  I'd
better start a set of gestures needed for those travelling there....

Lesson 1
1. Make fist with thumb at right angles to wrist.
2. Make "hitch-hiking" gesture, bring tip of thumb to mouth.
3. Take the drink you have been given.

Lesson 2
1. Tilt fore-arm at 45 degrees across face, fingers extended.
2. Drop arm to waist level and try to shake something sticky off your fingers.
3. Agree with companions that the next stretch is very uphill and "dur, dur".

    Congratulations Rod, Rob and Alan. I was jealous all week you were
    away, and am more determined than ever to do the ten day "touriste"
    version.
    
    Piers