Task number one after breakie today was to try and get through to Grandma to wish her a happy birthday. With the help of a local phonecard and the phone in the hotel room, I was trying valiantly, however to no avail. Apparently she was out partying with some friends.
I went to the "Terror House" which is the common name for 60 Andrassy - the location of the secret police and scene of many atrocities under the German and Russian occupation of Budapest. The place has apparently been criticised for not having enough exhibits on the holocaust, however I saw some pretty graphic footage of bodies being bulldozed during this time, that was more than enough. Despite a slightly depressing environment, I spent a couple of hours there, reading all that I could. It really hit home for a number of reasons.
Back to the hotel and I was fortunate enough to get through to my Grandmother after a number of attempts to wish her a happy birthday.
Then I set off for the amazing thermal spas that are always talked about. I did the Aussie thing and walked there, taking much longer than I should have. When I negotiated my way past the security guards and worked out how to get into the place (it was almost as much of a maze as Venice) I looked at the indoor "thermal" spas and thought no thanks. They looked little more than spas that are anywere else, and the water did not look inviting. So I went to the outdoor pool, which; while palatial in appearance, was just that - a pool. Well one big pool with a couple of little ones off to the side.
It was great to have a swim though with the upcoming long haul flight, and I interspersed this with a few sessions in the saunas. The last was 100 degrees celcuis and was just like having a heater blown onto you, which I guess is what was happening.
Next I decided to walk to the train station at the other end of town to get to the Sziget music festival. I eventually made it there and again used my skills from Venice to negotiate my way to the main stage. I saw an Aussie / fosters flag and made my way over there. To my surprise, there was a big group of Aussies who were very welcoming. It was nice to have this, especially right at the end of the trip.
Afterwards I made my way back to the hotel to have a shower and pack my bags. Then to the airport and a lovely day of planes and airports to finish this trip off. Budapest - London - Hong Kong - Sydney, and that was all she wrote until next time! Thanks for reading the story of my european vacation.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Bratislava
I could not believe I was about to subject myself to another five hours of train travel after sixteen hours a day earlier, however this was my chance to see Bratislava.
The station seemed typical of what you would expect in Eastern Europe - organised chaos. I quickly grabbed a map and set off to look at the old town and historic sites. Along the way I managed to walk past the palace of Slovakia's leader when the changing of the guard was taking place.
I managed to find one of the places that Lonely Planet recommended for traditional local fare. Further analysis of the map help me formulate a plan of attack for this whistlestop tour. The man at work was quite amusing, the opera house a stunning piece of architecture as described, however the castle was interesting.
I had left the best until last in the hope of being able to spend some time in the jewel of Bratislava's crown. The only issue was that the castle was undergoing a ful renovation so you could not get in and look around. The museum was open, however I had read that it was ordinary with the exception of being able to climb one of the castle's towers from there. Once I was informed that this was not available I decided to give this a miss as well. Also interesting was the fact that this castle was never really used from a Slovakian perspective. I read that the Hungarian royal family were there when the Turks occupied Budapest, also that the original castle burned down and the current version was built in the 1950s. I guess every city needs an icon or landmark and in Australia we are blessed with many that are natural and man made.
With a bit of extra time up my hands I had a look in a couple of shops. I realised I had no idea how to say hello and goodbye, so used the tried and true "ciao". I also managed to pick up the six dollar t-shirt that B-Money and I had been searching for the entire trip.
Rush hour back at the station and a woman who had pushed her way past me went down like a bag of s&^% about ten seconds later. I swear I had nothing to do with it, however did join the other locals having a good chuckle at her expense - due to the karma.
A crowd of people had gathered around the departures board and were waiting for a platform to be announced. I realised this was for my train so I joined them. Normally this would be one of those annoying things that you put down to being in a less developed place, however I recalled the exact same thing happens at Heathrow.
The train was so packed that I had to use one of the emergency makeshif seats that you unfold from the wall. After a few stops I managed to move into one of the compartments and really was feeling the Euro train travel experience.
Back in Budapest, I managed to get to the place I had tried the evening before. A funny thing happened which was they served my main course about a minute after the entree, so it was backed up and sitting on the table. Afterwards I had a couple of beers at a local bar, and while I was keen for more, I realised was in for a big one on the following evening, so some rest was appropriate.
The station seemed typical of what you would expect in Eastern Europe - organised chaos. I quickly grabbed a map and set off to look at the old town and historic sites. Along the way I managed to walk past the palace of Slovakia's leader when the changing of the guard was taking place.
I managed to find one of the places that Lonely Planet recommended for traditional local fare. Further analysis of the map help me formulate a plan of attack for this whistlestop tour. The man at work was quite amusing, the opera house a stunning piece of architecture as described, however the castle was interesting.
I had left the best until last in the hope of being able to spend some time in the jewel of Bratislava's crown. The only issue was that the castle was undergoing a ful renovation so you could not get in and look around. The museum was open, however I had read that it was ordinary with the exception of being able to climb one of the castle's towers from there. Once I was informed that this was not available I decided to give this a miss as well. Also interesting was the fact that this castle was never really used from a Slovakian perspective. I read that the Hungarian royal family were there when the Turks occupied Budapest, also that the original castle burned down and the current version was built in the 1950s. I guess every city needs an icon or landmark and in Australia we are blessed with many that are natural and man made.
With a bit of extra time up my hands I had a look in a couple of shops. I realised I had no idea how to say hello and goodbye, so used the tried and true "ciao". I also managed to pick up the six dollar t-shirt that B-Money and I had been searching for the entire trip.
Rush hour back at the station and a woman who had pushed her way past me went down like a bag of s&^% about ten seconds later. I swear I had nothing to do with it, however did join the other locals having a good chuckle at her expense - due to the karma.
A crowd of people had gathered around the departures board and were waiting for a platform to be announced. I realised this was for my train so I joined them. Normally this would be one of those annoying things that you put down to being in a less developed place, however I recalled the exact same thing happens at Heathrow.
The train was so packed that I had to use one of the emergency makeshif seats that you unfold from the wall. After a few stops I managed to move into one of the compartments and really was feeling the Euro train travel experience.
Back in Budapest, I managed to get to the place I had tried the evening before. A funny thing happened which was they served my main course about a minute after the entree, so it was backed up and sitting on the table. Afterwards I had a couple of beers at a local bar, and while I was keen for more, I realised was in for a big one on the following evening, so some rest was appropriate.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Budapest
This city certainly appreciates the value of tourism and is aware of its beauty as well as that of some of the locals. Namely, a couple of attractive young ladies boarded the train just out of town and walked through handing out maps and answering questions. One of them even offered to help me carry my bike box when we arrived at Budapest, however I politely declined, citing chivalry.
I did struggle getting the bike box to the hotel, however fortunately I had picked one close to the train station. After a shower and change of clothes (I felt smellier than I have ever felt) I set off for a quick look around town.
Later; for a change, I went on a bike tour. It was a great way to see the main sights of the city quickly, and it did not hurt that the host was, you guessed it, an attractive young lady.
I wandered around afterward and found a restaurant that looked fairly genuine. The older bloke working there was not big on the chat or service, however I guess he was around 50-60 and had lived through some pretty dark times in the city's history.
On the way home I did get lost. Well let us just say I did not exactly know which direction I was headed for a while until I got my bearings. I felt a bit pompous staying in a nice hotel, however a clean shower and nice bed were very welcome. So was sleep after another 36 sleepless hours!
I did struggle getting the bike box to the hotel, however fortunately I had picked one close to the train station. After a shower and change of clothes (I felt smellier than I have ever felt) I set off for a quick look around town.
Later; for a change, I went on a bike tour. It was a great way to see the main sights of the city quickly, and it did not hurt that the host was, you guessed it, an attractive young lady.
I wandered around afterward and found a restaurant that looked fairly genuine. The older bloke working there was not big on the chat or service, however I guess he was around 50-60 and had lived through some pretty dark times in the city's history.
On the way home I did get lost. Well let us just say I did not exactly know which direction I was headed for a while until I got my bearings. I felt a bit pompous staying in a nice hotel, however a clean shower and nice bed were very welcome. So was sleep after another 36 sleepless hours!
Venezia and l'ultima Apertivo
I filled the hire car with petrol and returned to the Mestre office of Avis, only to find it was closed for two weeks. I left the keys with the woman at the car wash, who rang the guy, who, in turn, informed me that he would come in the next day to sort it all out. Suffice to say I will be casting a keen eye over my credit card statement.
After an interesting breakfast (boiled egg, a croissant in a packet, a coffee that I did not ask for and a few other things) I set off to get a couple of errands complete. First was the ticket to Budapest, then sending a birthday present to my niece in the USA.
Next, the main activity for the day which was to go to Venice.
After I arrived, I immediately recognised how difficult it would have been to go there with my luggage instead of Mestre, with all the narrow alleyways and bridges.
I had a quick look over the first main bridge, and then decided I should acquaint myself with the lesser travelled back alleyways. I found a good place for lunch and then decided I would challenge myself to getting around to San Marco using only back alleyways. The first two turns I made took me directly to the tourist strip, however I had been past there before, so I got my bearings. Then I weaved a path through the alleyways, which was a lot like doing one of those puzzles. In fact, that is pretty much what it was.
I cheked out a few of the main sights and then for another challenge, returned to the station without using a map.
Back in Mestre, I thought I would go for a final apertivo or two, then return to the hotel and hopefully have a shower, change, and grab my luggage and set off to the station.
I found the only cool bar in Mestre and the two turned into eight and I had time only to grab my luggage and head for the station.
When the train arrived, one of the station masters was adamant that I could not take my bike box on board. Fortunately there were plenty of others lined up for questions, so when he turned his back I threw it all on there. He continued on and I think my response was something to the effect of "I have heard what you said, I respect it, and have taken your comments on board. However this stuff is coming with me."
Now for the fourteen hour train trip to Budapest. Three passport checks in Slovenia, you certainly know about it when you change from Western to Eastern Europe. I guess it made up for the border control near Chamonix!
After an interesting breakfast (boiled egg, a croissant in a packet, a coffee that I did not ask for and a few other things) I set off to get a couple of errands complete. First was the ticket to Budapest, then sending a birthday present to my niece in the USA.
Next, the main activity for the day which was to go to Venice.
After I arrived, I immediately recognised how difficult it would have been to go there with my luggage instead of Mestre, with all the narrow alleyways and bridges.
I had a quick look over the first main bridge, and then decided I should acquaint myself with the lesser travelled back alleyways. I found a good place for lunch and then decided I would challenge myself to getting around to San Marco using only back alleyways. The first two turns I made took me directly to the tourist strip, however I had been past there before, so I got my bearings. Then I weaved a path through the alleyways, which was a lot like doing one of those puzzles. In fact, that is pretty much what it was.
I cheked out a few of the main sights and then for another challenge, returned to the station without using a map.
Back in Mestre, I thought I would go for a final apertivo or two, then return to the hotel and hopefully have a shower, change, and grab my luggage and set off to the station.
I found the only cool bar in Mestre and the two turned into eight and I had time only to grab my luggage and head for the station.
When the train arrived, one of the station masters was adamant that I could not take my bike box on board. Fortunately there were plenty of others lined up for questions, so when he turned his back I threw it all on there. He continued on and I think my response was something to the effect of "I have heard what you said, I respect it, and have taken your comments on board. However this stuff is coming with me."
Now for the fourteen hour train trip to Budapest. Three passport checks in Slovenia, you certainly know about it when you change from Western to Eastern Europe. I guess it made up for the border control near Chamonix!
Bormio - Passo del Stelvio - Mestre
I woke in time for breakfast today and was all set and organised to check out, cimb the Stelvio and then head off to Mestre. What is it they say about the best laid plans of mice and men?
To cut a long story short, both Visa and MasterCard's payment systems were down at the same time for the first time in history (to go with me being the first Australian customer of the hotel poste in history). A quick trip to the bank, who, surprise, surprise had the same problem, a lot of trust and a promise to return after my ride to pay.
Now on to the Stelvio (literally). Forty off hairpins, sign posts every kilometer and a good quality road surface. There was a couple of tunnels that looked very old as they had absolutely no lighting and the parts I could see did not look new. I rode very slowly through those parts, although I was going uphill so that is my excuse.
I was passed by three people. One young lad who looked like he would be a pro one day. He sat on my wheel for a while before I pulled over and virtually slowed to a stop (not hard when you are going up hill). Another in Team Highroad Columbia kit, with team arm and leg warmers to boot. Not the Columbia HTC kit though, so not sure whether he was a pro or not. Then some other guy who flew past with high cadence.
There was a section in the middle with a number of hairpins all at close range. So it made it easier to climb up a short wall. Then it opened out for a while which made it harder, before going back to a number of turns towards the end.
At the top, there were heaps of people. Motorcyclists, cars and a number of cyclists. Many souveneir stands, a BBQish looking area with people in leiderhosen, and snow not far away (ie: you would walk to it). I was wearing a jersey and knicks only, so put my jacket on promptly. I also used the earlier credit card debacle as an excuse to pick myself up another jacket from the top. With a working credit card and two jackets for warmth, I descended confidently, yet carefully.
I sorted the bill and then weaved my way back to Trento the way I had came a few days earlier. The shortest route was over the Bormio, next the Stelvio. So I was taking the longest route, however had had enough of hill climbing, be it in a car, bike or other.
I eventually made it to Mestre, where the old boy from the hotel was only too happy to help me pack my bike. I found a great authentic venetian seafood restaurant nearby and had a great meal. Then a great sleep after a pretty big day.
To cut a long story short, both Visa and MasterCard's payment systems were down at the same time for the first time in history (to go with me being the first Australian customer of the hotel poste in history). A quick trip to the bank, who, surprise, surprise had the same problem, a lot of trust and a promise to return after my ride to pay.
Now on to the Stelvio (literally). Forty off hairpins, sign posts every kilometer and a good quality road surface. There was a couple of tunnels that looked very old as they had absolutely no lighting and the parts I could see did not look new. I rode very slowly through those parts, although I was going uphill so that is my excuse.
I was passed by three people. One young lad who looked like he would be a pro one day. He sat on my wheel for a while before I pulled over and virtually slowed to a stop (not hard when you are going up hill). Another in Team Highroad Columbia kit, with team arm and leg warmers to boot. Not the Columbia HTC kit though, so not sure whether he was a pro or not. Then some other guy who flew past with high cadence.
There was a section in the middle with a number of hairpins all at close range. So it made it easier to climb up a short wall. Then it opened out for a while which made it harder, before going back to a number of turns towards the end.
At the top, there were heaps of people. Motorcyclists, cars and a number of cyclists. Many souveneir stands, a BBQish looking area with people in leiderhosen, and snow not far away (ie: you would walk to it). I was wearing a jersey and knicks only, so put my jacket on promptly. I also used the earlier credit card debacle as an excuse to pick myself up another jacket from the top. With a working credit card and two jackets for warmth, I descended confidently, yet carefully.
I sorted the bill and then weaved my way back to Trento the way I had came a few days earlier. The shortest route was over the Bormio, next the Stelvio. So I was taking the longest route, however had had enough of hill climbing, be it in a car, bike or other.
I eventually made it to Mestre, where the old boy from the hotel was only too happy to help me pack my bike. I found a great authentic venetian seafood restaurant nearby and had a great meal. Then a great sleep after a pretty big day.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Bormio - passo del Gavia
I woke shortly before 10am!
A walk around town, followed by general procrastination. I could not believe that I needed motivation to get on my bike and attempt to climb one of the world's great passes.
After a final, short rain delay, I set off at about 330pm. My legs felt so heavy and it seemed like I was crawling, which I most surely was.
One thing I had not checked was how far it was to the start of the climb. I knew the Stelvio started in town, however was not sure if it was 10km or 40km to the start of the Gavia.
Fortunately it was the former, however it was a real grind getting there. The climb itself was ok at the start hairpins, smooth surface, etc), however it became progressively harder as I went along. The hairpins stopped about halfway, the quality of the road surface deteriorated at about the same time, and the steepness increased. Not that I was complaining as this was definitely better than work! One positive was that the short burst of rain made the air very fresh.
This was a real grind. 17km or so and 2,650 elevation at the top, although I do not know what the elevation of Bormio is to calculate the change.
I arrived at the top and was amused by the pet goat running around. Funnier to look at than the albino ferret on Alpe d'Huez, however not as friendly. I had a cup of hot chocolate with a massive amount of whipped cream on top. Professionally done, as these people would not want to start an avalanche! Also a piece of cake that seemed to have chocolate in it.
A careful descent and I realised just how steep some sections were. Even the bit at the start leading up to the start of the climb had a decent gradient. A good day's work all in all.
A walk around town, followed by general procrastination. I could not believe that I needed motivation to get on my bike and attempt to climb one of the world's great passes.
After a final, short rain delay, I set off at about 330pm. My legs felt so heavy and it seemed like I was crawling, which I most surely was.
One thing I had not checked was how far it was to the start of the climb. I knew the Stelvio started in town, however was not sure if it was 10km or 40km to the start of the Gavia.
Fortunately it was the former, however it was a real grind getting there. The climb itself was ok at the start hairpins, smooth surface, etc), however it became progressively harder as I went along. The hairpins stopped about halfway, the quality of the road surface deteriorated at about the same time, and the steepness increased. Not that I was complaining as this was definitely better than work! One positive was that the short burst of rain made the air very fresh.
This was a real grind. 17km or so and 2,650 elevation at the top, although I do not know what the elevation of Bormio is to calculate the change.
I arrived at the top and was amused by the pet goat running around. Funnier to look at than the albino ferret on Alpe d'Huez, however not as friendly. I had a cup of hot chocolate with a massive amount of whipped cream on top. Professionally done, as these people would not want to start an avalanche! Also a piece of cake that seemed to have chocolate in it.
A careful descent and I realised just how steep some sections were. Even the bit at the start leading up to the start of the climb had a decent gradient. A good day's work all in all.
The Gran Fondo Charly Gaul
An early start, and thanks to a phone call from Australia at 4am it was even earlier. Suffice to say I rose, switched my phone to silent, then back to bed.
After packing all my things, I went downstairs expecting breakfast at 7am, mainly because the concierge had mentioned they would have it specially then for us racers. When I learned it was not on, the 24 bottles of fruit juice suddenly became very useful. Well let us day 18 after a decent effort.
I put my bike together and did a quick check of all the things I had. Riding out of the carpark my brakes were squealing loudly and I knew that this would not do in a Gran Fondo. So I went back to the car and did my best to clean the rims and brake pads with a rag. I was a bit flustered, which is not a great way to start, however it does get the adrenaline pumping and a light sweat - which is what you want.
When I arrived at the duomo, I realised I should have been checking what I had rather than being worried about my rims. I had two spare tubes, however no pump! Now I was really flustered, however calmed myself by looking at the two possible scenaios - ie: I get a flat, or I do not. Worry about the former if and when it happens, if the latter, then no need to worry.
Now for those who do not know, a Gran Fondo is kind of like the City2Surf on bikes. I do mean the City2Surf as well, as there may not be 60,000 people, however there are often 8,000 people. Add the bikes and it can be a recipie for disaster, or more specifically - crashes.
This was no regular race. Not like the Tour de France or any of the races I have been involved with, where there is a neutral roll out and then you hit it a few kms out of town. These boys (and girls) go from the gun. 40-45km/h straight away. Oops, there is a cafe table area in the middle or the road, a right hand turn, traffic islands, etc. We would go from 40+to 0 due to these things and the effect on braking in traffic I mentioned yesterday.
I really had to back it off as we were 10km in and I thought there is a long way to go to be maintaining this speed. Also two mammoth hills, or should I say mountains, however more of that later.
I had my Sydney jersey on and I heard a voice say "are you Australian". Scott became my ride buddy and thank Christ he had a pump! I was updated on cricket scores, and not just once - text messages from Scott's old man through the ride. Super stuff!
Now the hills, I mean mountains. Well there was one, that we climbed from two different ways. The first was about 15km and 1,300 metres elevation gain. The second was about 20km and 1,300m elevation gain. We thought the second was 10km, and as it was at the finish, the extra 10km uphill was quite deflating. There were a few rest stops along the way and Scott and I stopped at each one.
Once over the line (only a couple of hours behind the winner) we went to the customary pasta party and then bumped into Gilberto Simoni. Gilberto was happy to pose for photos with us and seemed happy to know we were Australians and had come to what is now really his event. The only problem was the old bloke taking the photo did not know how to press the button, so the moment will have to live in our memories.
Overall, a great experience, however at the time it was extremely difficult.
Afterwards, a short four hour drive from Trento to Bormio.
After packing all my things, I went downstairs expecting breakfast at 7am, mainly because the concierge had mentioned they would have it specially then for us racers. When I learned it was not on, the 24 bottles of fruit juice suddenly became very useful. Well let us day 18 after a decent effort.
I put my bike together and did a quick check of all the things I had. Riding out of the carpark my brakes were squealing loudly and I knew that this would not do in a Gran Fondo. So I went back to the car and did my best to clean the rims and brake pads with a rag. I was a bit flustered, which is not a great way to start, however it does get the adrenaline pumping and a light sweat - which is what you want.
When I arrived at the duomo, I realised I should have been checking what I had rather than being worried about my rims. I had two spare tubes, however no pump! Now I was really flustered, however calmed myself by looking at the two possible scenaios - ie: I get a flat, or I do not. Worry about the former if and when it happens, if the latter, then no need to worry.
Now for those who do not know, a Gran Fondo is kind of like the City2Surf on bikes. I do mean the City2Surf as well, as there may not be 60,000 people, however there are often 8,000 people. Add the bikes and it can be a recipie for disaster, or more specifically - crashes.
This was no regular race. Not like the Tour de France or any of the races I have been involved with, where there is a neutral roll out and then you hit it a few kms out of town. These boys (and girls) go from the gun. 40-45km/h straight away. Oops, there is a cafe table area in the middle or the road, a right hand turn, traffic islands, etc. We would go from 40+to 0 due to these things and the effect on braking in traffic I mentioned yesterday.
I really had to back it off as we were 10km in and I thought there is a long way to go to be maintaining this speed. Also two mammoth hills, or should I say mountains, however more of that later.
I had my Sydney jersey on and I heard a voice say "are you Australian". Scott became my ride buddy and thank Christ he had a pump! I was updated on cricket scores, and not just once - text messages from Scott's old man through the ride. Super stuff!
Now the hills, I mean mountains. Well there was one, that we climbed from two different ways. The first was about 15km and 1,300 metres elevation gain. The second was about 20km and 1,300m elevation gain. We thought the second was 10km, and as it was at the finish, the extra 10km uphill was quite deflating. There were a few rest stops along the way and Scott and I stopped at each one.
Once over the line (only a couple of hours behind the winner) we went to the customary pasta party and then bumped into Gilberto Simoni. Gilberto was happy to pose for photos with us and seemed happy to know we were Australians and had come to what is now really his event. The only problem was the old bloke taking the photo did not know how to press the button, so the moment will have to live in our memories.
Overall, a great experience, however at the time it was extremely difficult.
Afterwards, a short four hour drive from Trento to Bormio.
The road to the Gran Fondo
All good things must come to an end and my time in Rimini was no exception. I thought back to when I arrived with B-Money just over a week earlier, thinking I would spend a few days there with him. Well the activities and hospitality (from Dott) was so great, that I could not help but stay. Even with the hire car booked she was still informing me of things that we could do. Even Doc called with the opportunity of another long ride.
Offers aside, I decided my future was at the Gran Fondo in Trento and then a couple of days in Bormio. So a final "coffee" (I have given up due to the effects felt earlier in the week), pack the car, set the Garmin and away.
I ignored the first directions as they were a left at a roundabout when the autstrada was clearly signposted to the right. Twenty minutes later and I was still searching for it and questioning this decision.
Once on the autostrada it was plain sailing (or driving). The traffic became a bit congested abou 80km out of Trento. It slowed, often to a standstill, then slowly moved on back to fluency. No crashes, etc, so all I could assume is that it was the cumulative effect of braking on traffic (ie: cars at the front brake slightly, cars behind brake increasingly heavily, until we achieve standstill). Not to worry, as long as I arrived before the collection of race packs finished.
I checked into the hotel and then got a Custanza park next to the race pack collection area. No dramas with my different license, a t-shirt, two dozen bottles of fruit juice and I was on my way.
Then I did a few laps of town trying to find the parking centre allocated to my hotel. Once that was sorted, a quick walking tour of the town helped me locate the duomo where the Gran Fondo was going to start. Lucky, as I had assumed it was where the race packs were collected.
Back to the hotel and a quick nap before a early meal. It was at that in between (normal westerner) time of around 8-9pm. I say in between as it was in between apertivi and dinner for the Italians, so most places were not cranking it up for dinner. Fortunately I found a place that must cater for the tourist market.
Early to bed and a few butterflies.
Offers aside, I decided my future was at the Gran Fondo in Trento and then a couple of days in Bormio. So a final "coffee" (I have given up due to the effects felt earlier in the week), pack the car, set the Garmin and away.
I ignored the first directions as they were a left at a roundabout when the autstrada was clearly signposted to the right. Twenty minutes later and I was still searching for it and questioning this decision.
Once on the autostrada it was plain sailing (or driving). The traffic became a bit congested abou 80km out of Trento. It slowed, often to a standstill, then slowly moved on back to fluency. No crashes, etc, so all I could assume is that it was the cumulative effect of braking on traffic (ie: cars at the front brake slightly, cars behind brake increasingly heavily, until we achieve standstill). Not to worry, as long as I arrived before the collection of race packs finished.
I checked into the hotel and then got a Custanza park next to the race pack collection area. No dramas with my different license, a t-shirt, two dozen bottles of fruit juice and I was on my way.
Then I did a few laps of town trying to find the parking centre allocated to my hotel. Once that was sorted, a quick walking tour of the town helped me locate the duomo where the Gran Fondo was going to start. Lucky, as I had assumed it was where the race packs were collected.
Back to the hotel and a quick nap before a early meal. It was at that in between (normal westerner) time of around 8-9pm. I say in between as it was in between apertivi and dinner for the Italians, so most places were not cranking it up for dinner. Fortunately I found a place that must cater for the tourist market.
Early to bed and a few butterflies.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Two and a half Aussies - part 4
The best laid plans of mice and men...
I was going to leave ultra early to ride out to Carpenga and Cippo, however managed to get away at about 945am - just in time for the heat of the day.
I spun my way out there really easily and took over two and a half hours to ride about 50km, however it was mostly uphill at various gradients.
I knew Cippo would be tough, however I had to go into my 27 very early. I had moved past the decision of whether I should stop and resolved to do so in a corner or two. Then I started seeing pictures of Pantani, Merckx, large newspaper billboards, etc. I was not dreaming, it was all there. Apparently there was an event on at Cippo recently, so all of the stuff was still on the mountain. There are a number of permanent billboards as well. All of this spurred me on even though I felt like I was about to die.
There was a short stop where I had to go around a gate, which meant that the rest of the climb would have no cars (apart from a ranger or workmen possibly). I passed one sorry looking fellow who I would later learn is from Holland where there are no hills (hard to train for hill climbing).
Once that was sorted I descended down the other side and proceeded to search for a place that had food and drink. Normally not a difficult task, however at 2pm in Italy the country is in shut down.
I happened upon a place that was open and proceeded to buy two bottles of water, two gatorades and a sandwich. I drank three of the four, poured the fourth into my drink bottle, ate the sandwich and was on my way back.
I was expecting a much faster trip home, considering I was going from 1,400ish meters to 0 meters. It was quicker, apart from a small section of 1km that was as steep as Cippo! I descended it on the way out and the worst part is there was a sign pointing to Rimini before it that would have been much flatter, however I chose to follow the Garmin. Well apart from that blemish, the Garmin got me there and back, so it is doing its job.
I was going to leave ultra early to ride out to Carpenga and Cippo, however managed to get away at about 945am - just in time for the heat of the day.
I spun my way out there really easily and took over two and a half hours to ride about 50km, however it was mostly uphill at various gradients.
I knew Cippo would be tough, however I had to go into my 27 very early. I had moved past the decision of whether I should stop and resolved to do so in a corner or two. Then I started seeing pictures of Pantani, Merckx, large newspaper billboards, etc. I was not dreaming, it was all there. Apparently there was an event on at Cippo recently, so all of the stuff was still on the mountain. There are a number of permanent billboards as well. All of this spurred me on even though I felt like I was about to die.
There was a short stop where I had to go around a gate, which meant that the rest of the climb would have no cars (apart from a ranger or workmen possibly). I passed one sorry looking fellow who I would later learn is from Holland where there are no hills (hard to train for hill climbing).
Once that was sorted I descended down the other side and proceeded to search for a place that had food and drink. Normally not a difficult task, however at 2pm in Italy the country is in shut down.
I happened upon a place that was open and proceeded to buy two bottles of water, two gatorades and a sandwich. I drank three of the four, poured the fourth into my drink bottle, ate the sandwich and was on my way back.
I was expecting a much faster trip home, considering I was going from 1,400ish meters to 0 meters. It was quicker, apart from a small section of 1km that was as steep as Cippo! I descended it on the way out and the worst part is there was a sign pointing to Rimini before it that would have been much flatter, however I chose to follow the Garmin. Well apart from that blemish, the Garmin got me there and back, so it is doing its job.
Two and a half Aussies - part 3
I seriously can not remember much apart from going to spin in the evening and then the 900 club for some sole. The spin instructor pulled out the measuring tape and spun us within an inch of our lives! I sweated profusely as there was no fan. The Adriatic was forming once again, however Moses was not on hand to part the sea!
Two and a half Aussies - part 2
A very Italian day today.
After the morning coffee shop ritual, we went to Mamma Farneti's for lunch and then a ride.
The lunch - Mamma Mia! We arrived to a fully set table, silver service style. Monogramed plates with the labels all lining up at the top. Then wine, bread, pasta, then meat and vegetables. Then fruit.
Then a ride with Paolo out to San Leo and Madonna d'Pugliano. Dott informed me later that Paolo regularly finishes in the top 20 of the Gran Fondos, so he is pretty handy on two wheels. I noticed this first hand when we were going up the hills. We went ahead of the girls and I was thinking that the language thing would work on the hills as we would not have to speak. This part was OK, however no noise from no talking meant that the only noise was my deep breathing! Nothing from Paolo's corner as he cruised up the hills next to me, being very polite and not going ahead.
After the morning coffee shop ritual, we went to Mamma Farneti's for lunch and then a ride.
The lunch - Mamma Mia! We arrived to a fully set table, silver service style. Monogramed plates with the labels all lining up at the top. Then wine, bread, pasta, then meat and vegetables. Then fruit.
Then a ride with Paolo out to San Leo and Madonna d'Pugliano. Dott informed me later that Paolo regularly finishes in the top 20 of the Gran Fondos, so he is pretty handy on two wheels. I noticed this first hand when we were going up the hills. We went ahead of the girls and I was thinking that the language thing would work on the hills as we would not have to speak. This part was OK, however no noise from no talking meant that the only noise was my deep breathing! Nothing from Paolo's corner as he cruised up the hills next to me, being very polite and not going ahead.
Two and a half Aussies - part 1
Today we rode out to Verucchio and Toriana. Dott mentioned to me "this is the place that I broke Steven" about a mutual friend.
When we arrived at Toriana, I was a little ahead and proceeded up the final climb. I was struggling badly, gasping for air, thinking no wonder Steven could not make it up here. รน
After I made it to the top Dott and I exchanged a few texts. The last one read "I have been at the top for a while, where are you?", which suggested to me I was not in the right place. Suffice to say that Dott had not taken Steven up the last bit or even been up there herself. I guess that is the price you pay for being a smartie and riding ahead.
On the way back we bumped into a friend of Dott's named Paolo. He popped over for dinner. Interesting trying to communicate with people that do not speak the same language.
When we arrived at Toriana, I was a little ahead and proceeded up the final climb. I was struggling badly, gasping for air, thinking no wonder Steven could not make it up here. รน
After I made it to the top Dott and I exchanged a few texts. The last one read "I have been at the top for a while, where are you?", which suggested to me I was not in the right place. Suffice to say that Dott had not taken Steven up the last bit or even been up there herself. I guess that is the price you pay for being a smartie and riding ahead.
On the way back we bumped into a friend of Dott's named Paolo. He popped over for dinner. Interesting trying to communicate with people that do not speak the same language.
B-Money and Adriano's excellent adventure - the finale
Sad day today. B-Money was heading home. We had the final coffee at the coffee shop and all of that stuff and then bid him farewell.
Afterwards, Leica and I filled the void by riding to San Marino. We were separated at a point and then it began to rain, right when I was at the top.
I was done with a woman's plastic bag Lance Armstrong style as I tried to ride up part of San Marino that you probably should not. So I dismounted and wandered around with my bike taking in the views.
The rain eased for the ride back and I was greeted by two happy, however worried ladies. Also a masseus (Andrea). So I was having a massage after a ride, feeling like a pro, however something was missing. Then Federica handed me her mobile phone. So I was now being massaged after a ride, talking on my mobile.
It was B-Money.
Later that evening we had dinner with Federica's cousin Federico (same surname). He suggested I have the piadini which is a local dish. Very nice.
Afterwards, Leica and I filled the void by riding to San Marino. We were separated at a point and then it began to rain, right when I was at the top.
I was done with a woman's plastic bag Lance Armstrong style as I tried to ride up part of San Marino that you probably should not. So I dismounted and wandered around with my bike taking in the views.
The rain eased for the ride back and I was greeted by two happy, however worried ladies. Also a masseus (Andrea). So I was having a massage after a ride, feeling like a pro, however something was missing. Then Federica handed me her mobile phone. So I was now being massaged after a ride, talking on my mobile.
It was B-Money.
Later that evening we had dinner with Federica's cousin Federico (same surname). He suggested I have the piadini which is a local dish. Very nice.
B-Money and Adriano's excellent adventure - part 6
No riding today after doing so much on the past few days. Also a bender.
After a few hours sleep we rose and went sailing with Uncle Adriano! What a name! The boat was custom made and my namesake was an excellent captain. I did what I could, however was best at sitting around doing nothing. I did help with a few things though and also had a turn at steering the boat.
Afterwards was apertivi at the sailing club, followed by fish at a nearby restaurant. Luvly jubbly!
We were all ready to hit the hay early and never repeat the stupid act of staying out all night again!
After a few hours sleep we rose and went sailing with Uncle Adriano! What a name! The boat was custom made and my namesake was an excellent captain. I did what I could, however was best at sitting around doing nothing. I did help with a few things though and also had a turn at steering the boat.
Afterwards was apertivi at the sailing club, followed by fish at a nearby restaurant. Luvly jubbly!
We were all ready to hit the hay early and never repeat the stupid act of staying out all night again!
B-Money and Adriano's excellent adventure - part 6
Off to Forli today to catch up with Doc and Julz (DAJ). We saw a few bunches heading out on the way and while it would have been a good experience to go with them, we thought this Forli adventure would be one to be reckoned with.
We turned up between 20-30 min late and were quickly ushered into change rooms in DAJ's pad. They seemed as keen as mustard to get cracking and after our experience in the heat the day before we did not need much encouragement to agree.
Doc fed me a macchiato and a mineral water at the coffee shop while I was still on my bike and then Julz led us out of town.
We headed towards a place called Castrocaro Terme, and there were a series of hills along the way. One we descended down was about 18% and had stunning views of the town below. It was one of those situations where it was too dangerous to stop, so the image needs to live in my mind. Trust me it was good. Apparently the boys smahsed their way up it during this year's Giro, and the writing on the road suggested the same (although there was nothing as cool as Big Unit Tours painted on the road).
At the coffee stop I was served the most amazing hot chocolate ever. You could almost stand the spoon vertically in it. The only problem was I had to gulp it down in the heat in world record time so I was not left behind!
An absolute cracking ride, which was followed by a lunch of equal proportions. We also watched Paris-Roubaix from 2006, which was the one where George Hincapie's steerer broke. I heard a song with the lyrics "I can ride a bike with no handlebars...", however Goegeous George could not that day. I do not think the lyrics include "on the pave in Paris-Roubaix" so we will leave the big seppo alone I think. Anyone who marries a Tour de France podium girl is doing something right I reckon.
Later we spotted Bono and his entourage roaming the streets of Forli.
Afterwards we went to this magnificent pizza place in the middle of nowhere. B-Money and I thought DAJ were playing funny buggers and were about to put foil over our eyes, etc, however we ended up at the restaurant. We even shared a gelato pizza for dessert.
Back home and we prepared ourselves to stay out all night, which I know B-Money in particular was looking forward to. The first place was an outdoorsy beach bar where a short Italian male got in my grill. He must have been loitering at the depart at Martingy and heard TBU. The next place was a bigger club on the beach and there were numbers there to rival a Melbourne crowd. A lot of dancing, however no short Italian man. After a few more places B-Money had almost made it to morning.
We went to the local coffee shop before going to the 6am concert. For some reason there was a tractor and truck on the beach, so the concert start was delayed. I slept on a banana lounge and woke up at the end of each tune to provide applause. Thank god Leica made the diplomatic move to get us out of there as we were all falling asleep!
We turned up between 20-30 min late and were quickly ushered into change rooms in DAJ's pad. They seemed as keen as mustard to get cracking and after our experience in the heat the day before we did not need much encouragement to agree.
Doc fed me a macchiato and a mineral water at the coffee shop while I was still on my bike and then Julz led us out of town.
We headed towards a place called Castrocaro Terme, and there were a series of hills along the way. One we descended down was about 18% and had stunning views of the town below. It was one of those situations where it was too dangerous to stop, so the image needs to live in my mind. Trust me it was good. Apparently the boys smahsed their way up it during this year's Giro, and the writing on the road suggested the same (although there was nothing as cool as Big Unit Tours painted on the road).
At the coffee stop I was served the most amazing hot chocolate ever. You could almost stand the spoon vertically in it. The only problem was I had to gulp it down in the heat in world record time so I was not left behind!
An absolute cracking ride, which was followed by a lunch of equal proportions. We also watched Paris-Roubaix from 2006, which was the one where George Hincapie's steerer broke. I heard a song with the lyrics "I can ride a bike with no handlebars...", however Goegeous George could not that day. I do not think the lyrics include "on the pave in Paris-Roubaix" so we will leave the big seppo alone I think. Anyone who marries a Tour de France podium girl is doing something right I reckon.
Later we spotted Bono and his entourage roaming the streets of Forli.
Afterwards we went to this magnificent pizza place in the middle of nowhere. B-Money and I thought DAJ were playing funny buggers and were about to put foil over our eyes, etc, however we ended up at the restaurant. We even shared a gelato pizza for dessert.
Back home and we prepared ourselves to stay out all night, which I know B-Money in particular was looking forward to. The first place was an outdoorsy beach bar where a short Italian male got in my grill. He must have been loitering at the depart at Martingy and heard TBU. The next place was a bigger club on the beach and there were numbers there to rival a Melbourne crowd. A lot of dancing, however no short Italian man. After a few more places B-Money had almost made it to morning.
We went to the local coffee shop before going to the 6am concert. For some reason there was a tractor and truck on the beach, so the concert start was delayed. I slept on a banana lounge and woke up at the end of each tune to provide applause. Thank god Leica made the diplomatic move to get us out of there as we were all falling asleep!
B-Money and Adriano's excellent adventure - part 5
Up and away, well almost. Straight into a ride (well drive) to Santarcangelo, then ride to Borghi, Sogliano al Rubicone, Mercato Saraceno and then Barbotto for a gelati and return.
Did I mention that we picked up an absolute babe (Simona) on the way. Not sure exactly where, perhaps Borghi, and then she unfortunately left us before the descent into Barbotto.
The climb out of Barbotto was tough - 5km or so, quite steep in places, and worst of all - no protection from the sun. Leica ground her way up there in quite amazing fashion considering she has not been on a bike for about 6 months. Apparently she was making her way up a hill called Kiliminjaro in Africa and she was not using a bike!
Apertivi at the yacht club was a lot of fun and the wait (not having a true apertivi in the prior stops in Italy) was definitiely worth it. I am on to the Aperol and Spritz and may make it my "chick's drink of choice" when back in Australia and feel the need to drink something feminine. Definitely another bottle that can be added to the booze collection (like we need it!).
Did I mention that we picked up an absolute babe (Simona) on the way. Not sure exactly where, perhaps Borghi, and then she unfortunately left us before the descent into Barbotto.
The climb out of Barbotto was tough - 5km or so, quite steep in places, and worst of all - no protection from the sun. Leica ground her way up there in quite amazing fashion considering she has not been on a bike for about 6 months. Apparently she was making her way up a hill called Kiliminjaro in Africa and she was not using a bike!
Apertivi at the yacht club was a lot of fun and the wait (not having a true apertivi in the prior stops in Italy) was definitiely worth it. I am on to the Aperol and Spritz and may make it my "chick's drink of choice" when back in Australia and feel the need to drink something feminine. Definitely another bottle that can be added to the booze collection (like we need it!).
Sunday, August 2, 2009
B-Money and Adriano's excellent adventure - part 4
To Rimini today, via Verona and Nalini.
Things are working fairly well. B-Money likes to drive, I can navigate and sleep. A perfect marriage.
We stopped quickly in Verona for lunch and thanks to Lonely Planet we managed to find a traditonal Veronese restaurant that was so traditional they had a "Menu Tourista". Not to worry, a quick feed and we were off to Nalini to look at how cycling clothes are made, before arriving at the Baldoni Bike shop in Forli at 5pm on the knocker to have B-Money's bike restored to it's former glory.
After lunch I was keen to get rolling, however B-Money wanted to do a quick walk into the main part of town. He lived up to his name by taking us directly to one of the main attractions which is the fake Juliet balcony. I am not sure why so many people get excited over this, however proceeded to live the moment and take a couple of happy snaps myself.
Back on the road and after some slight adjustments to the b/&% we were at Nalini. They appeared very pleased to see us and actually spent a fair bit of time showing us around the factory. We even met the owner, whose name escapes me, however was once the goalkeeper for AC Milan. He did not look like he was that big, however maybe goalkeepers were not back then.
The one thing that struck me as interesting was the large amount of handling and manual processes at this place, while machinery and equipment was state of the art. They are very proud of the fact that everything is made in Italy, however the price is higher as a result. I am sure they could automate a lot of what they do. They also white label a lot of garments for other companies like Addidas and Craft. The latter do the Saxo Bank kits and I had a blow up kangaroo signed by Andy Schleck, Jens Voight and Stuart O'Grady, however still did not hand it over.
Also interesting was the processes they used. Sublemation was the main one for large quantity orders. This is where paper is printed with the design, which is then pressed on to the fabric. Like an iron on transfer. Ditto to the digital process which is for smaller run orders. Then there is overprinting where the design is printed on the fabric, however this is used for simpler designs.
It is amazing to consider the lead times for the kits that we have purchased and then understand exactly how quickly they can turn something around if they have to (eg: for a tour de france yellow jersey wearer, or a newly crowned national champion).
On to Baldoni and we arrived fashionably late Italian style at 630pm! They proceeded to fix B-Money's bike straight away and even gave my drive train a free lube. I succumbed to my guilt and purchased a five euro bottle of lube! The bikes in this shop are amazingly cheap and you could pick up a top of the line model Pinarello Dogma for a touch over half the price you would get it for in Australia. That is still eight to ten thousand dollars, however it is a significant saving.
We arrived at Rimini for some great hospitality from Federica (Dott) before heading to one of the many bars on the beach. Super stuff.
Things are working fairly well. B-Money likes to drive, I can navigate and sleep. A perfect marriage.
We stopped quickly in Verona for lunch and thanks to Lonely Planet we managed to find a traditonal Veronese restaurant that was so traditional they had a "Menu Tourista". Not to worry, a quick feed and we were off to Nalini to look at how cycling clothes are made, before arriving at the Baldoni Bike shop in Forli at 5pm on the knocker to have B-Money's bike restored to it's former glory.
After lunch I was keen to get rolling, however B-Money wanted to do a quick walk into the main part of town. He lived up to his name by taking us directly to one of the main attractions which is the fake Juliet balcony. I am not sure why so many people get excited over this, however proceeded to live the moment and take a couple of happy snaps myself.
Back on the road and after some slight adjustments to the b/&% we were at Nalini. They appeared very pleased to see us and actually spent a fair bit of time showing us around the factory. We even met the owner, whose name escapes me, however was once the goalkeeper for AC Milan. He did not look like he was that big, however maybe goalkeepers were not back then.
The one thing that struck me as interesting was the large amount of handling and manual processes at this place, while machinery and equipment was state of the art. They are very proud of the fact that everything is made in Italy, however the price is higher as a result. I am sure they could automate a lot of what they do. They also white label a lot of garments for other companies like Addidas and Craft. The latter do the Saxo Bank kits and I had a blow up kangaroo signed by Andy Schleck, Jens Voight and Stuart O'Grady, however still did not hand it over.
Also interesting was the processes they used. Sublemation was the main one for large quantity orders. This is where paper is printed with the design, which is then pressed on to the fabric. Like an iron on transfer. Ditto to the digital process which is for smaller run orders. Then there is overprinting where the design is printed on the fabric, however this is used for simpler designs.
It is amazing to consider the lead times for the kits that we have purchased and then understand exactly how quickly they can turn something around if they have to (eg: for a tour de france yellow jersey wearer, or a newly crowned national champion).
On to Baldoni and we arrived fashionably late Italian style at 630pm! They proceeded to fix B-Money's bike straight away and even gave my drive train a free lube. I succumbed to my guilt and purchased a five euro bottle of lube! The bikes in this shop are amazingly cheap and you could pick up a top of the line model Pinarello Dogma for a touch over half the price you would get it for in Australia. That is still eight to ten thousand dollars, however it is a significant saving.
We arrived at Rimini for some great hospitality from Federica (Dott) before heading to one of the many bars on the beach. Super stuff.
B-Money and Adriano's excellent adventure - part 3
What started with a great breakie went pear shaped pretty quickly.
We were rolling out of town when a dude in full Lampre team kit with a Lampre team issue Wilier bicycle cruised past and gave us a glance of superiority. Even though I knew I was outclassed, I thought it would be un-Australian of me not to respond. So I sped up, sat on his wheel, and then started to get next to him a few times, with my hands on the top of the bars so it looked all so easy. I was just about to signal B-Money through so we could give him the one-two punch, when I glanced over my shoulder and he was nowhere to be seen. So I rolled into the next town and noticed a message "broken derailleur" on my phone.
I went back to get him and it was not pretty. Then I found myself returning to the hotel to retrieve the clean up van to collect the parts. What a great time for making a start to driving on the narrow streets of Lake Como, in a wide van, where the Italians drive very cautiously!
A couple of gutter jumps and a close call on the side mirror, however no permanent scars. I did miss B-Money as he decided to wait on the opposite side of the road from where I found him and I had tunnel vision at this stage. So I was able to drive some more!
Once B-Money and what was formerly his bike were in the van, I set off on my own. Back to almost the town I had already visited twice and then a right hander into a long climb. Just how long I did not know exactly, however I knew there were a few sections and that I had different towns to look for at the end of each section.
I ended up climbing for about two hours in some pretty harsh heat, so I was happy (or delerious) when I arrived at the top. After a few snapshots a kind lady from a shop filled one of my waterbottles. She was so happy to give me free water she issued me a "ciao" before the bottle was even full.
I was on my way back down looking for a restaurant I had been advised to attend. I looked and could not find the one I thought I was looking for. So I cut my losses and went back up to the top. An icy pole and gatorade from the kind lady from before made her even kinder and she informed me that the restaurant there was closed for a couple of years and the one a couple of km down the road would be closed for afternoon siesta. So I was not to have the pasta.
I descended and then went through to Como. Not the nicest city compared to what I have heard, perhaps a couple of long tunnels I had to ride through along the way did not put me in the most open and accomodating mood. Also, my gears were squeaking a fair bit. So much so, that at one point a couple of cops across the other side of the road turned around thinking a potentially unroadworthy car may have been approaching. At least that was the look they had in their eyes (which were hidden by their sunglasses).
Back to the hotel and B-Money took me into town for an apertivo. Major attitude was received, which seemed strange considering we were in a tourist town.
I drifted off to sleep yet again to the dolcet tones of B-Money's airwaves.
We were rolling out of town when a dude in full Lampre team kit with a Lampre team issue Wilier bicycle cruised past and gave us a glance of superiority. Even though I knew I was outclassed, I thought it would be un-Australian of me not to respond. So I sped up, sat on his wheel, and then started to get next to him a few times, with my hands on the top of the bars so it looked all so easy. I was just about to signal B-Money through so we could give him the one-two punch, when I glanced over my shoulder and he was nowhere to be seen. So I rolled into the next town and noticed a message "broken derailleur" on my phone.
I went back to get him and it was not pretty. Then I found myself returning to the hotel to retrieve the clean up van to collect the parts. What a great time for making a start to driving on the narrow streets of Lake Como, in a wide van, where the Italians drive very cautiously!
A couple of gutter jumps and a close call on the side mirror, however no permanent scars. I did miss B-Money as he decided to wait on the opposite side of the road from where I found him and I had tunnel vision at this stage. So I was able to drive some more!
Once B-Money and what was formerly his bike were in the van, I set off on my own. Back to almost the town I had already visited twice and then a right hander into a long climb. Just how long I did not know exactly, however I knew there were a few sections and that I had different towns to look for at the end of each section.
I ended up climbing for about two hours in some pretty harsh heat, so I was happy (or delerious) when I arrived at the top. After a few snapshots a kind lady from a shop filled one of my waterbottles. She was so happy to give me free water she issued me a "ciao" before the bottle was even full.
I was on my way back down looking for a restaurant I had been advised to attend. I looked and could not find the one I thought I was looking for. So I cut my losses and went back up to the top. An icy pole and gatorade from the kind lady from before made her even kinder and she informed me that the restaurant there was closed for a couple of years and the one a couple of km down the road would be closed for afternoon siesta. So I was not to have the pasta.
I descended and then went through to Como. Not the nicest city compared to what I have heard, perhaps a couple of long tunnels I had to ride through along the way did not put me in the most open and accomodating mood. Also, my gears were squeaking a fair bit. So much so, that at one point a couple of cops across the other side of the road turned around thinking a potentially unroadworthy car may have been approaching. At least that was the look they had in their eyes (which were hidden by their sunglasses).
Back to the hotel and B-Money took me into town for an apertivo. Major attitude was received, which seemed strange considering we were in a tourist town.
I drifted off to sleep yet again to the dolcet tones of B-Money's airwaves.
B-Money and Adriano's excellent adventure - part 2
We could not wait to get out of our hotel (if you are ever in Lausanne, do not stay in Ibis) and after helping ourselves to a quick breakie at a local coffee shop, we were off to Musee d'Olympique Lausanne. Incidentally, Lausanneans (not sure what the collective noun is for that lot, if anyone knows then please advise) are pretty proud of the fact that the Olympic headquarters are there. It kind of reminded me of Melburnians, which is my former stomping ground, so I will not rip into them too much. Except to sat that they are a bunch of... just kidding!
The Olympic Museum was not bad. The downstairs had a whole lot of quality artefacts about the history of the olympics. Apparently Switzerland was chosen as the venue as the Olympic headquarters as the decision was made to revive the ancient games into the modern games during world war one and they were at peace. Back to the museum - upstairs was pretty average with a number of memorabillia donations from athletes. It could have had a lot of cool stuff from recent games, taken you behind the scenes, etc, however I guess they need to protect their intellectual property.
Off to Lake Como via Martingy where we had been a couple of days earlier. We passed the UCI training facilities or headquarters in Arig on the way, however did not want to turn back when we arrived at Martingy. Good to know it is there and even better to have a reason to go back.
Martingy was pretty quiet and had just recovered from the thirty minutes of madness of a week or so earlier. As we could not get hooked up with a cow bell or cheap watch (FYI - the former cost a few hundred euro, so maybe the tales I heard about being thrown in jail if you go cow tipping and nick one are true, however like anything these days can be ordered on line).
Out of Martingy and up a hill towards Italy. I must say that I have noticed I have a hunger for climbing hills, even though I am at best a grinder rather than a pure climber. I look at hills now and the first thing that comes to mind is wanting to ride my bike up them.
I did not make B-Money wait for me in this instance, which was a good thing as there was a few of them to get through, as well as a few hundred other kilometers. I thought of the great Kenny Rogers and "you have to know when to hold them, know when to fold them, know when to walk away, know when to run. You never count your money, when you're sitting at the table, there'll be time enough for counting, when the dealin's done". Everybody know...
Right-o, pretty boring from here. In Switzerland that seemed like Germany, then Italy that seemed like Switzerland, however not the German one, then Italy that seemed like Italy, then Switzerland thet seemed like Italy and finally Italy / Italy. So it was great that we were warmed up to Italy slowly.
In the Italy that seemed like Switzerland there was a cracker of a road sign which I unfortunately did not get a snapshot of, so I will describe here. A truck going down an incline with the wheels on fire - ie: steep descent, careful you do not smoke it up and overcook the brakes!
The border control was again pretty lax, however I think having Italian plates helped. Also the European Union. I reckon they would strip search anyone from Poland or somewhere outside the EU as a matter of course.
Today was special from the perspective that we decided to ban the b&%$ and go old-school and use the map. So, as navigator, I had my work cut out for me. Suffice to say that we arrived. Not on time, however we never did with the Garmin anyway. Just less stressed.
I had a socceroos jersey on and a bloke came out of the hotel and said "Aussieland? Why are you coming here from Aussieland?" His name was Andri, son of Adriano (FYI - I am McLovin my adopted name while I am here) did some semi-pro cycling and he lived in Rushcutters Bay for a year or so. We had a quick chat about how all of the pro peleton must be on the juice and then he upgraded B-Money and me to a ball tearer of a room. Very romantic. I mentioned to B-Money that I just hoped the evening would live up to the expectations of where the bar had been set.
A mammoth walk to dinner at the place our new best friend suggested as he must get a kickback. We returned the favour by not dropping his name.
Another comment on the socceroos jersey on the way home at a gelateria. Unfortunately it was a bloke and he was at least 120, however it must be working!
The Olympic Museum was not bad. The downstairs had a whole lot of quality artefacts about the history of the olympics. Apparently Switzerland was chosen as the venue as the Olympic headquarters as the decision was made to revive the ancient games into the modern games during world war one and they were at peace. Back to the museum - upstairs was pretty average with a number of memorabillia donations from athletes. It could have had a lot of cool stuff from recent games, taken you behind the scenes, etc, however I guess they need to protect their intellectual property.
Off to Lake Como via Martingy where we had been a couple of days earlier. We passed the UCI training facilities or headquarters in Arig on the way, however did not want to turn back when we arrived at Martingy. Good to know it is there and even better to have a reason to go back.
Martingy was pretty quiet and had just recovered from the thirty minutes of madness of a week or so earlier. As we could not get hooked up with a cow bell or cheap watch (FYI - the former cost a few hundred euro, so maybe the tales I heard about being thrown in jail if you go cow tipping and nick one are true, however like anything these days can be ordered on line).
Out of Martingy and up a hill towards Italy. I must say that I have noticed I have a hunger for climbing hills, even though I am at best a grinder rather than a pure climber. I look at hills now and the first thing that comes to mind is wanting to ride my bike up them.
I did not make B-Money wait for me in this instance, which was a good thing as there was a few of them to get through, as well as a few hundred other kilometers. I thought of the great Kenny Rogers and "you have to know when to hold them, know when to fold them, know when to walk away, know when to run. You never count your money, when you're sitting at the table, there'll be time enough for counting, when the dealin's done". Everybody know...
Right-o, pretty boring from here. In Switzerland that seemed like Germany, then Italy that seemed like Switzerland, however not the German one, then Italy that seemed like Italy, then Switzerland thet seemed like Italy and finally Italy / Italy. So it was great that we were warmed up to Italy slowly.
In the Italy that seemed like Switzerland there was a cracker of a road sign which I unfortunately did not get a snapshot of, so I will describe here. A truck going down an incline with the wheels on fire - ie: steep descent, careful you do not smoke it up and overcook the brakes!
The border control was again pretty lax, however I think having Italian plates helped. Also the European Union. I reckon they would strip search anyone from Poland or somewhere outside the EU as a matter of course.
Today was special from the perspective that we decided to ban the b&%$ and go old-school and use the map. So, as navigator, I had my work cut out for me. Suffice to say that we arrived. Not on time, however we never did with the Garmin anyway. Just less stressed.
I had a socceroos jersey on and a bloke came out of the hotel and said "Aussieland? Why are you coming here from Aussieland?" His name was Andri, son of Adriano (FYI - I am McLovin my adopted name while I am here) did some semi-pro cycling and he lived in Rushcutters Bay for a year or so. We had a quick chat about how all of the pro peleton must be on the juice and then he upgraded B-Money and me to a ball tearer of a room. Very romantic. I mentioned to B-Money that I just hoped the evening would live up to the expectations of where the bar had been set.
A mammoth walk to dinner at the place our new best friend suggested as he must get a kickback. We returned the favour by not dropping his name.
Another comment on the socceroos jersey on the way home at a gelateria. Unfortunately it was a bloke and he was at least 120, however it must be working!
Friday, July 31, 2009
Epilogue - the comedy of errors / B-Money and Adriano's excellent adventure - part 1
We had so much time this morning it was not funny.
I talked of getting Swiss bank accounts set up for everyone, and even went to a bank to get a few brochures. TBU made the apt comment that a swiss bank account would be great, however how would we use them? Then the appeal faded.
A second coffee for the boys, and I had a tea. Boring yes, however I had a hot chocolate first time around which I have to say is the worst hot chocolate I have had in my life, and it was in Switzerland. This goes along with the worst pizza I have ever had being in Rome and is not looking like a good sequence.
After to coffee TBU mentioned that he needed to buy some chocolate for a woman at work. Why could he not get it at the airport? Who cared, we had plenty of time!
Once that was sorted then we had the minimum possible time to get back to the airport in a town we were not familiar with. A moment of napping, turn off missed and we needed to drive ten km down the road to turn around. What little hope the boys had of making their flight evaporated with a few wrong turns once we arrived, however I reckon they were goners anyway.
Suddenly we had enough time for lunch!
Afterwards we dropped TBU and Bruce the non-Aussie in plenty of time and here endeth Big Unit Tours, until next time!
I booked some accomodation in Lausanne and returned to find B-Money had gone for a drive somewhere and I had to do it old-school (ie: no phone to call with, so wait until he came back).
We arrived in Lausanne and after negotiating one of the least helpful concierges I have ever experienced, we parked the van. Then we did something that seemed very different - went for a ride!
We rode along the other side of Lake Geneva. Stunning views, the most notable of which were a series of wine plantations on the side of the hill. Imagine something like the rice paddies in Asia, except with a few rows of vines at each level. I guess being right next to the lake means the dirt and conditions are appropriate.
I talked of getting Swiss bank accounts set up for everyone, and even went to a bank to get a few brochures. TBU made the apt comment that a swiss bank account would be great, however how would we use them? Then the appeal faded.
A second coffee for the boys, and I had a tea. Boring yes, however I had a hot chocolate first time around which I have to say is the worst hot chocolate I have had in my life, and it was in Switzerland. This goes along with the worst pizza I have ever had being in Rome and is not looking like a good sequence.
After to coffee TBU mentioned that he needed to buy some chocolate for a woman at work. Why could he not get it at the airport? Who cared, we had plenty of time!
Once that was sorted then we had the minimum possible time to get back to the airport in a town we were not familiar with. A moment of napping, turn off missed and we needed to drive ten km down the road to turn around. What little hope the boys had of making their flight evaporated with a few wrong turns once we arrived, however I reckon they were goners anyway.
Suddenly we had enough time for lunch!
Afterwards we dropped TBU and Bruce the non-Aussie in plenty of time and here endeth Big Unit Tours, until next time!
I booked some accomodation in Lausanne and returned to find B-Money had gone for a drive somewhere and I had to do it old-school (ie: no phone to call with, so wait until he came back).
We arrived in Lausanne and after negotiating one of the least helpful concierges I have ever experienced, we parked the van. Then we did something that seemed very different - went for a ride!
We rode along the other side of Lake Geneva. Stunning views, the most notable of which were a series of wine plantations on the side of the hill. Imagine something like the rice paddies in Asia, except with a few rows of vines at each level. I guess being right next to the lake means the dirt and conditions are appropriate.
Etape 9 - The Geneva Convention
I woke next to TBU and you know what they say about what happens on tour!
We were off quickly in order to get MJ to the airport around midday. Geneva was better signposted than Annecy, so we did not need to refer to our electronic device.
We dropped off MJ and thought that that was the end of Big Unit Tours until next year, however little did we know...
We went into town, found a hotel and then a pub to watch the final stage. How could Cavendish win by so much, be so much better than anyone else and still not win the green jersey? Well it happened.
TBU and Bruce the non-Australian were so caught up in the moment that they decided to delay their flight and have another night on the gas with us.
After a number of beers, two burgers and a few complimentary tequilas we went bar hopping in Geneva (actually to one more bar, then Chinese hopping (to a restaurant) and flexing by the car!
In between the bar and Chinese, the comment of the evening to TBU "excuse me sir, there is a problem with your pants" as he emerged from an elevator. This part is definitely best left on tour!
We were off quickly in order to get MJ to the airport around midday. Geneva was better signposted than Annecy, so we did not need to refer to our electronic device.
We dropped off MJ and thought that that was the end of Big Unit Tours until next year, however little did we know...
We went into town, found a hotel and then a pub to watch the final stage. How could Cavendish win by so much, be so much better than anyone else and still not win the green jersey? Well it happened.
TBU and Bruce the non-Australian were so caught up in the moment that they decided to delay their flight and have another night on the gas with us.
After a number of beers, two burgers and a few complimentary tequilas we went bar hopping in Geneva (actually to one more bar, then Chinese hopping (to a restaurant) and flexing by the car!
In between the bar and Chinese, the comment of the evening to TBU "excuse me sir, there is a problem with your pants" as he emerged from an elevator. This part is definitely best left on tour!
Etape 8 - painting Mt Ventoux beige
My Havianna deflated after about half an hour, so I did not have the best night of sleep. I was thinking of spooning with TBU, however thought that considering he had been away from his creature comforts for a week that it was not the best idea. For me.
After the usual hanging out, we rode back to the second checkpoint and were informed that it was to be closed to all traffic at 11am. It was 10:25am.
Back down to the van and we did the quickest pack up of all time. Back packs were loaded with roos, flags, paint, rollers, tray (more of this later). TBU and I rode the last 5km with a havianna each on our backs, which made it virtually impossible to see more than ten meters ahead. The wind at the top was gale force and may have had something to do with the policeman at the checkpoint telling us to walk our bikes up (which we did until the first corner before mounting them).
We realised at this point that we were on the opposite side. A bit of cross country work over some pebbles and we arrived at the barricaded section about 1-2km from the top. I have to make mention of how helpful the gendarme were at this point. They did not want people over the barricade in this section, however we mentioned that we just wanted to get down to a lower location to watch. All of a sudden they were helping us lift our bikes and ourselves over the barricades, and all in the name of common sense - so that we did not get in the way of others.
We found a spot about 2-3km from the top which was the very last part without barricades. The barricades actually started next to us. A quick kip on the haviannas and I declined the offer of sun cream from "Bruce the non-Australian", which I would pay dearly for later.
I chalked up our, now standard "Big Unit Tours" slogan on the road and we went back to hanging out and waiting for the boys in lycra to come through.
When TBU arose, he was quite vocal in suggesting we paint the road with the two litre can he had lugged up the hill along with the roller and tray. I was keen, however a bit nervous taking the plunge. So TBU lead from the front and started rolling over the chalk marks. Right in front of the world press (who loved it and started taking photos) and right in front of a young gendarne who had sole responsibility for this stretch of road.
That was all the inspiration I needed and I could not get the roller in my hand quick enough. The funny thing was that, despite the concern that we would get in serious trouble from the gendarne for graffiting the road, all he cared about were two things:
1) That we did not block the vehichles coming up the mountain, and
2) That we only painted this and nothing else (as if we wanted other things taking the attention away from our masterpiece!).
Hooray for the gendarne again!
We were now pumped and once the caravan rolled through, we were ready for action. Then the silence and anticipation.
Then they came.
The usual suspects Andy Schleck trying for the last time to get time back on Contador, then Lance, Wiggins, et al. I had a chuckle when all the press were commenting about whether Armstrong had come through, when I already had a photo of him. Number 27 from Astana popped a wheelie as he came past, which confirmed we were in the primo viewing location.
So many groups. Then the final group with the sag wagon behind them (that is how you know it is the final group!).
The integrity of Big Unit Tours was underlined when TBU made sure we did not leave any Aussie paraphenalia on the side of the road.
Now to find somewhere to stay for the night!
After the usual hanging out, we rode back to the second checkpoint and were informed that it was to be closed to all traffic at 11am. It was 10:25am.
Back down to the van and we did the quickest pack up of all time. Back packs were loaded with roos, flags, paint, rollers, tray (more of this later). TBU and I rode the last 5km with a havianna each on our backs, which made it virtually impossible to see more than ten meters ahead. The wind at the top was gale force and may have had something to do with the policeman at the checkpoint telling us to walk our bikes up (which we did until the first corner before mounting them).
We realised at this point that we were on the opposite side. A bit of cross country work over some pebbles and we arrived at the barricaded section about 1-2km from the top. I have to make mention of how helpful the gendarme were at this point. They did not want people over the barricade in this section, however we mentioned that we just wanted to get down to a lower location to watch. All of a sudden they were helping us lift our bikes and ourselves over the barricades, and all in the name of common sense - so that we did not get in the way of others.
We found a spot about 2-3km from the top which was the very last part without barricades. The barricades actually started next to us. A quick kip on the haviannas and I declined the offer of sun cream from "Bruce the non-Australian", which I would pay dearly for later.
I chalked up our, now standard "Big Unit Tours" slogan on the road and we went back to hanging out and waiting for the boys in lycra to come through.
When TBU arose, he was quite vocal in suggesting we paint the road with the two litre can he had lugged up the hill along with the roller and tray. I was keen, however a bit nervous taking the plunge. So TBU lead from the front and started rolling over the chalk marks. Right in front of the world press (who loved it and started taking photos) and right in front of a young gendarne who had sole responsibility for this stretch of road.
That was all the inspiration I needed and I could not get the roller in my hand quick enough. The funny thing was that, despite the concern that we would get in serious trouble from the gendarne for graffiting the road, all he cared about were two things:
1) That we did not block the vehichles coming up the mountain, and
2) That we only painted this and nothing else (as if we wanted other things taking the attention away from our masterpiece!).
Hooray for the gendarne again!
We were now pumped and once the caravan rolled through, we were ready for action. Then the silence and anticipation.
Then they came.
The usual suspects Andy Schleck trying for the last time to get time back on Contador, then Lance, Wiggins, et al. I had a chuckle when all the press were commenting about whether Armstrong had come through, when I already had a photo of him. Number 27 from Astana popped a wheelie as he came past, which confirmed we were in the primo viewing location.
So many groups. Then the final group with the sag wagon behind them (that is how you know it is the final group!).
The integrity of Big Unit Tours was underlined when TBU made sure we did not leave any Aussie paraphenalia on the side of the road.
Now to find somewhere to stay for the night!
Etape 7 - the road to Mt Ventoux
Another late start (I could seriously get used to this!), however we had to clean up the chalet and hand it back. We received some serious attitude from the woman who was a friend of TBU, which we shall not dwell on. In the van and on the road and about to get lost again!
We stopped at a place on the motorway that served steak, which was welcomed by all (except Bazzo who had just bought a lunch pack at the previous servo). The tour was on, so we were in no hurry.
It was a slow grind to Gap and we thought that our friend "The B%$£&" was leading us up the garden path again, which she was. We found a bike shop in Gap and appealed to their sense of "we are cycling fans who have come half way around the world to see the tour - can you help us".
Amazing these things called maps and noting the major towns you need to drive through from A to B. Garmin off and we stopped to load up on all of the essentials (ie: beer, ice, chickens). I was not allowed in the supermarket in bare feet, so I was really unhappy about hanging in the van listening to my iPod.
So the next part of the journey was not too bad in the back. Eating, drinking and being merry. It was dusk and we were still a way off from Mt Ventoux. I knew we were close when I pointed something out with a tower on the top and one of the boys said it looked like it was snow capped. I had read in a cycling magazine that it looked like this.
In our excitement of almost being at our destination, we overlooked which of the three ascents we were taking and opted for the first one. I in particular contributed to this decision, as the road was blocked one way and we felt like fugitives driving up it the wrong way.
We were waved on at the first check point and the fugitive feeling changed to rock stars! We drove on. Our feeling of being a rock star fugitive came to an end about 5km from the top where we could go no further and were waved into a caravan area. We had arrived at our destination and it was time to get loose on the mountain!
The above did not happen too much as most people were asleep in anticipation of an early start and cracker-jack position. We found some South Africans and Americans though who were a nice little novelty.
The havianna thongs from Australia Day came into their own here as beds for TBU and I.
We stopped at a place on the motorway that served steak, which was welcomed by all (except Bazzo who had just bought a lunch pack at the previous servo). The tour was on, so we were in no hurry.
It was a slow grind to Gap and we thought that our friend "The B%$£&" was leading us up the garden path again, which she was. We found a bike shop in Gap and appealed to their sense of "we are cycling fans who have come half way around the world to see the tour - can you help us".
Amazing these things called maps and noting the major towns you need to drive through from A to B. Garmin off and we stopped to load up on all of the essentials (ie: beer, ice, chickens). I was not allowed in the supermarket in bare feet, so I was really unhappy about hanging in the van listening to my iPod.
So the next part of the journey was not too bad in the back. Eating, drinking and being merry. It was dusk and we were still a way off from Mt Ventoux. I knew we were close when I pointed something out with a tower on the top and one of the boys said it looked like it was snow capped. I had read in a cycling magazine that it looked like this.
In our excitement of almost being at our destination, we overlooked which of the three ascents we were taking and opted for the first one. I in particular contributed to this decision, as the road was blocked one way and we felt like fugitives driving up it the wrong way.
We were waved on at the first check point and the fugitive feeling changed to rock stars! We drove on. Our feeling of being a rock star fugitive came to an end about 5km from the top where we could go no further and were waved into a caravan area. We had arrived at our destination and it was time to get loose on the mountain!
The above did not happen too much as most people were asleep in anticipation of an early start and cracker-jack position. We found some South Africans and Americans though who were a nice little novelty.
The havianna thongs from Australia Day came into their own here as beds for TBU and I.
Etape 6 - Annecy
Woke as usual when the sun rose and chose to flick the ok, ok, ok breakfast in favour for something in Borg d'sions. It actually took us quite a while to find somewhere that served food instead of alcohol. This may not sound so strange, however at 9am it is!
We stopped in at one of the many bike shops to load up on a few supplies, then loaded up on food in one of the few boulangeries. There were a lot of cyclists around and they also had numbers on their handlebars. Then we noticed the blow up starting contraption and realised there was a race up the Alpe. We declined the opportunity to back it up, especially when we heard the record was 40-odd minutes (about 5min more than the all time / pro record).
We thought we would cut out the middle man and head straight to Annecy for the time trial. Fortunately Annecy is fairly well sign posted, so we did not have to rely on the Garmin (who we have lovingly named "The Bitch").
Arrived at Annecy and as usual The Big Unit (TBU) set us up with a primo parking spot. No one was smart enough to take a photo of the street or cross street, even though we had just finished talking about it. Surely we would remember where we parked!
TBU made himself known to the locals, with a classic "give me five" with hand held out to a local lass, and she recipricated. So he had already picked up the vibe.
Now to find a primo spot. We briefly thought of having another go at the thirty minutes of madness, however the security was beefed up compared to Martingy. We did see a couple of Columbia HTC riders on the walk there, and then Felipe Pozzato jump the fence to get into the team enclosure (not only Aussie yobbos jump the fence!).
An absolute classic was when we found a bloke selling beer right near the start line for about two euro a pop. He could have charged whatever he wanted and we would have paid it. He was our new best friend.
Early doors, the riders are separated by a minute. Each rider has a team car with bikes on top and a few police motorcycles as escorts as well as a few other cars every now and then with sponsors, competition winners, etc in them. This may not sound like much, however multiply this by nine riders per team and twenty one teams. Ok, a few had dropped out by then, so maybe 170 riders - a logistical nightmare!
We found a spot and managed to get a few snapshots of the riders going by. The funniest thing was when an excited Texan came up to us showing what he thought was a great photo of Lance. Our response was that it was a great photo, however it was Kloden, not Lance. Lance was coming next. Then came the brothers Schleck (one at a time) and then Contador.
We also bumped into Deb and Jamie, which was great - in particular for TBU as he had forgotten about a planned dinner a few nights earlier. The former had the little known (outside of cycling) Australian legend Phil Anderson with them. A few snapshots with Phil and we also had to inform him about Big Unit Tours. He did not seem worried, however had to make a hasty exit which says he was packing darkies (I have not used that term for about 25 years!). Seriously, a great bloke, who does not take himself too seriously, and also an idol of mine growing up. FYI - he was the team leader for Motorola when Lance was starting.
Once the big boys had rolled around it was time for us to crack out the bikes and have a go ourselves. Once we found the car and extracted our bikes, the course was a bit tougher than we thought, especially the Category 3 climb, that had three distinct phases - the top of each we kept thinking was the top!
Back to the car and back home. A team decision was made for a mid day exit to head to Mt Ventoux.
We stopped in at one of the many bike shops to load up on a few supplies, then loaded up on food in one of the few boulangeries. There were a lot of cyclists around and they also had numbers on their handlebars. Then we noticed the blow up starting contraption and realised there was a race up the Alpe. We declined the opportunity to back it up, especially when we heard the record was 40-odd minutes (about 5min more than the all time / pro record).
We thought we would cut out the middle man and head straight to Annecy for the time trial. Fortunately Annecy is fairly well sign posted, so we did not have to rely on the Garmin (who we have lovingly named "The Bitch").
Arrived at Annecy and as usual The Big Unit (TBU) set us up with a primo parking spot. No one was smart enough to take a photo of the street or cross street, even though we had just finished talking about it. Surely we would remember where we parked!
TBU made himself known to the locals, with a classic "give me five" with hand held out to a local lass, and she recipricated. So he had already picked up the vibe.
Now to find a primo spot. We briefly thought of having another go at the thirty minutes of madness, however the security was beefed up compared to Martingy. We did see a couple of Columbia HTC riders on the walk there, and then Felipe Pozzato jump the fence to get into the team enclosure (not only Aussie yobbos jump the fence!).
An absolute classic was when we found a bloke selling beer right near the start line for about two euro a pop. He could have charged whatever he wanted and we would have paid it. He was our new best friend.
Early doors, the riders are separated by a minute. Each rider has a team car with bikes on top and a few police motorcycles as escorts as well as a few other cars every now and then with sponsors, competition winners, etc in them. This may not sound like much, however multiply this by nine riders per team and twenty one teams. Ok, a few had dropped out by then, so maybe 170 riders - a logistical nightmare!
We found a spot and managed to get a few snapshots of the riders going by. The funniest thing was when an excited Texan came up to us showing what he thought was a great photo of Lance. Our response was that it was a great photo, however it was Kloden, not Lance. Lance was coming next. Then came the brothers Schleck (one at a time) and then Contador.
We also bumped into Deb and Jamie, which was great - in particular for TBU as he had forgotten about a planned dinner a few nights earlier. The former had the little known (outside of cycling) Australian legend Phil Anderson with them. A few snapshots with Phil and we also had to inform him about Big Unit Tours. He did not seem worried, however had to make a hasty exit which says he was packing darkies (I have not used that term for about 25 years!). Seriously, a great bloke, who does not take himself too seriously, and also an idol of mine growing up. FYI - he was the team leader for Motorola when Lance was starting.
Once the big boys had rolled around it was time for us to crack out the bikes and have a go ourselves. Once we found the car and extracted our bikes, the course was a bit tougher than we thought, especially the Category 3 climb, that had three distinct phases - the top of each we kept thinking was the top!
Back to the car and back home. A team decision was made for a mid day exit to head to Mt Ventoux.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Etape 4
Late start - it is great being on holiday and riding when you want. Thanks to our friends at Garmin and a poor choice of towns by me (I chose the town 4km from the top of the hill we were going to, rather than the one at the base) a three hour drive turned into something like four and a half. A lot of fun chatting with the boys about many interesting topics nonetheless.
I forgot to mention where we were headed - Alpe d'Huez. Even for the less knowledgeable sports fan, this is one mountain that is very well known. 14km and 21 hairpins separate you from cycling immortality.
After getting there ultra late (Doc and Julz were already half to two-thirds of the way up, then descended past the group at the starting point when the Big Unit and I were taking a natural break) we had what can be referred to as a multi tool of mechanicals. If anyone knows what the collective noun is for a series of mechanicals, then let me know.
We had our photos taken by a photographer for a local paper who said they were doing a story on the Tour de France and tourists coming to the region. More like a shot of us with a caption taking the piss out of us I reckon, and which would be deserved based on what we have been handing out.
We eventually got cracking and as expected km1 to km3 were the hardest (>10%). It settled down to a nice, easy 7-9% after that. Each of the 21 hairpins has a winner of the stage finish at the Alpe for the years it has gone through there. We learned later that it would be heading back there next year. It was also there last year, so while we missed the tour there this year, we did not miss the legendary Alpe.
The climb was not easy, however the hairpins break it up nicely (into 21 parts!), so you can get into a rythym. There are definitely two hairpins that are not numbered, which takes a bit of wind out of your sails. Also, the mistake we (I!) made earlier was a blessing in disguise, as we knew that when we arrived at the town I had plugged into the garmin there was 4km to go (well another 6km really, however more of that later).
Shortly after the town (Huez en Oisans, which I think means something like Huez over Oisans, which is the lower part of Alpe d'Huez - or the Alpe as we now have the right to call it) you can see the ski village, which is great, however you learn later that it is not the top (not the official top anyway). Once you get to the village, there is a banner overhead with a podium off to the side, however there is also a sign pointing to the left with an additional 2km-ish to the "arrivee officiale". So I kept grinding away, under a little bridge / tunnel around another hairpin, and then it flattened out so I thought I would crank it up for the finale in the big ring. Around another left-hander and a slightly uphill finish put paid to that and I crossed the finish line, I mean arrivee officiale all on my lonesome, however a special moment in any case.
After a few tacky souveneir purchases and a free copy of L'Equipe for the descent the other boys turned up. Bruce had a final multi tool mechanical and was in a bar a few hairpins from the bottom drowning his sorrows.
So we descended, stopping to take some happy snaps before arriving at a place we found so lovely that we just had to spend the night. So the day on the Alpe turned into a sleepover. Bruce borrowed a wheel and knocked it over before sunset, so all was good that ends good. Ok? Ok? Ok? - Sorry, in joke, and not even a funny one now that I think about it.
I forgot to mention where we were headed - Alpe d'Huez. Even for the less knowledgeable sports fan, this is one mountain that is very well known. 14km and 21 hairpins separate you from cycling immortality.
After getting there ultra late (Doc and Julz were already half to two-thirds of the way up, then descended past the group at the starting point when the Big Unit and I were taking a natural break) we had what can be referred to as a multi tool of mechanicals. If anyone knows what the collective noun is for a series of mechanicals, then let me know.
We had our photos taken by a photographer for a local paper who said they were doing a story on the Tour de France and tourists coming to the region. More like a shot of us with a caption taking the piss out of us I reckon, and which would be deserved based on what we have been handing out.
We eventually got cracking and as expected km1 to km3 were the hardest (>10%). It settled down to a nice, easy 7-9% after that. Each of the 21 hairpins has a winner of the stage finish at the Alpe for the years it has gone through there. We learned later that it would be heading back there next year. It was also there last year, so while we missed the tour there this year, we did not miss the legendary Alpe.
The climb was not easy, however the hairpins break it up nicely (into 21 parts!), so you can get into a rythym. There are definitely two hairpins that are not numbered, which takes a bit of wind out of your sails. Also, the mistake we (I!) made earlier was a blessing in disguise, as we knew that when we arrived at the town I had plugged into the garmin there was 4km to go (well another 6km really, however more of that later).
Shortly after the town (Huez en Oisans, which I think means something like Huez over Oisans, which is the lower part of Alpe d'Huez - or the Alpe as we now have the right to call it) you can see the ski village, which is great, however you learn later that it is not the top (not the official top anyway). Once you get to the village, there is a banner overhead with a podium off to the side, however there is also a sign pointing to the left with an additional 2km-ish to the "arrivee officiale". So I kept grinding away, under a little bridge / tunnel around another hairpin, and then it flattened out so I thought I would crank it up for the finale in the big ring. Around another left-hander and a slightly uphill finish put paid to that and I crossed the finish line, I mean arrivee officiale all on my lonesome, however a special moment in any case.
After a few tacky souveneir purchases and a free copy of L'Equipe for the descent the other boys turned up. Bruce had a final multi tool mechanical and was in a bar a few hairpins from the bottom drowning his sorrows.
So we descended, stopping to take some happy snaps before arriving at a place we found so lovely that we just had to spend the night. So the day on the Alpe turned into a sleepover. Bruce borrowed a wheel and knocked it over before sunset, so all was good that ends good. Ok? Ok? Ok? - Sorry, in joke, and not even a funny one now that I think about it.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Etape 3 - the Thirty Minutes of Madness at Martingy (TMMM)
A huge day for Big Unit tours! We rocked up in Martingy, completely ignored all instructions we were given and plonked the van up on a kerb that did not look like a parking area. Nevermind.
We went straight into the main drag and saw the procession that is the "caravan" roll out on schedule - an hour before the men in lycra. The caravan is so popular in fact that they publicise estimated times that it will pass each stage as well as a second time for the race. Go the caravan - there needs to be a few Jayco's and Viscounts in there though.
Once that part of the circus was gone the team buses and cars started rolling in. The Big Unit suggested we go to a cafe and then it was time to inflate the roos. I went off with Doc and Julz as there protege tour rider stalker, roo in hand with a flag tied around its back.
Doc was waiting at the Saxo Bank bus for Stuey O'Grady, and I was behind him with my roo having a bit of fun. The roo seemed to have a mind of his own and started to hump Doc from behind while he spoke with Bjarne Riis. The roo was also a hit with the kids, especially when it started boxing on with a few of them. Funny stuff.
Matt White (Whitey), who is a director sportif (coach) of Team Garmin came out of the bus and was happy to have a chat (he is in my club). A bit of a classic really, posing for a photo with Joey and talking crap with him and Doc for a few minutes while the reporters mill around building up the courage to ask for an interview.
I took Joey up with me to the Columbia HTC bus thinking with Rogers and Renshaw I was a good chance of a photo. Sure enough Renshaw came out and was happy to pose with the roo (and me). Some seppo was taking the photo and unfortunately I happened to run out of battery at that point. "What an inopportune time for that to happen" or something along those lines said the seppo. Without photo taking ability on my own, I went back and found Doc and, in turn the others, not realising what a stroke of good luck having no battery would prove to be.
MJ was on the inside of the barrier taking photos, then all of a sudden the Big Unit was over the fence taking photos of the pros like a pro like he was supposed to be there. Then we were all on the inside of the barrier, perhaps not crossing the line, however certainly dancing on it! If this is the taste of things to come with Mt Ventoux, then I can not wait, as we were getting well and truly loose in the politest possible manner. Even Cadel (cardigan wearer) stopped for a snapshot and although he was whinging about not knowing what time it was (time for a glass of harden the f&^% up I reckon) he was happy to pose for a moment.
A funny thing happened then, which started with the Big Unit taking photos of the cardigan wearer with the roos, MJ and me, and finished with about a dozen photographers all snapping away. Unfortunately they did not take me seriously when I informed them that they would each need to pay 10 euros for their respective photos, however it was fun nonetheless.
The icing on the cake was when Whitey drove past in the Garmin car and stopped briefly to say G'day again. Photos with Joey turned into a snapshot of the odometer and then a request for some more provocative shots. I guess you had to be there, however it was an absolute ball tearer.
Afterwards MJ and I walked up the barriers towards the start thinking we would get kicked out, however a smile, a bonjour, etc can get you a long way in this country.
Doc has been at the Giro (Tour of Italy) a number of times, which is renowned for being the riders race, where you can get up close and personal with the riders and they are very accessible to spectators. Anyway, Martingy is a small town and apparently this was Giro-esque in terms of how close we were. How loose we were? Well that is another great chapter in what is a growing legend that is Big Unit tours.
Heading south tomorrow to tackle the 21 switchbacks and 14km that is Alpe d'Huez. If I make it back alive, then there will be a more subdued update then.
We went straight into the main drag and saw the procession that is the "caravan" roll out on schedule - an hour before the men in lycra. The caravan is so popular in fact that they publicise estimated times that it will pass each stage as well as a second time for the race. Go the caravan - there needs to be a few Jayco's and Viscounts in there though.
Once that part of the circus was gone the team buses and cars started rolling in. The Big Unit suggested we go to a cafe and then it was time to inflate the roos. I went off with Doc and Julz as there protege tour rider stalker, roo in hand with a flag tied around its back.
Doc was waiting at the Saxo Bank bus for Stuey O'Grady, and I was behind him with my roo having a bit of fun. The roo seemed to have a mind of his own and started to hump Doc from behind while he spoke with Bjarne Riis. The roo was also a hit with the kids, especially when it started boxing on with a few of them. Funny stuff.
Matt White (Whitey), who is a director sportif (coach) of Team Garmin came out of the bus and was happy to have a chat (he is in my club). A bit of a classic really, posing for a photo with Joey and talking crap with him and Doc for a few minutes while the reporters mill around building up the courage to ask for an interview.
I took Joey up with me to the Columbia HTC bus thinking with Rogers and Renshaw I was a good chance of a photo. Sure enough Renshaw came out and was happy to pose with the roo (and me). Some seppo was taking the photo and unfortunately I happened to run out of battery at that point. "What an inopportune time for that to happen" or something along those lines said the seppo. Without photo taking ability on my own, I went back and found Doc and, in turn the others, not realising what a stroke of good luck having no battery would prove to be.
MJ was on the inside of the barrier taking photos, then all of a sudden the Big Unit was over the fence taking photos of the pros like a pro like he was supposed to be there. Then we were all on the inside of the barrier, perhaps not crossing the line, however certainly dancing on it! If this is the taste of things to come with Mt Ventoux, then I can not wait, as we were getting well and truly loose in the politest possible manner. Even Cadel (cardigan wearer) stopped for a snapshot and although he was whinging about not knowing what time it was (time for a glass of harden the f&^% up I reckon) he was happy to pose for a moment.
A funny thing happened then, which started with the Big Unit taking photos of the cardigan wearer with the roos, MJ and me, and finished with about a dozen photographers all snapping away. Unfortunately they did not take me seriously when I informed them that they would each need to pay 10 euros for their respective photos, however it was fun nonetheless.
The icing on the cake was when Whitey drove past in the Garmin car and stopped briefly to say G'day again. Photos with Joey turned into a snapshot of the odometer and then a request for some more provocative shots. I guess you had to be there, however it was an absolute ball tearer.
Afterwards MJ and I walked up the barriers towards the start thinking we would get kicked out, however a smile, a bonjour, etc can get you a long way in this country.
Doc has been at the Giro (Tour of Italy) a number of times, which is renowned for being the riders race, where you can get up close and personal with the riders and they are very accessible to spectators. Anyway, Martingy is a small town and apparently this was Giro-esque in terms of how close we were. How loose we were? Well that is another great chapter in what is a growing legend that is Big Unit tours.
Heading south tomorrow to tackle the 21 switchbacks and 14km that is Alpe d'Huez. If I make it back alive, then there will be a more subdued update then.
Etape 2 - Goldeneye
Short day today, starting with a 4km climb out of what we are affectionately referring to as "our driveway". Across the border yet again (not even a sniff of being stopped by border control), up the road and then off to the left to tackle the climb to Emosson.
We had a ringer on board, by the name of Mark. It is always good when someone joins the group who has the same name as someone already in the group, because let us face it - we are blokes and not good at remembering.
This was a 12km climb with virtually no protection from the sun. So hot and hard for over an hour. I was with Mark (new Mark) for half to 2/3 of the way and kept talking as he was the new guy and you always need to keep making pleasant small talk. He soon showed me a clean set of pedals though and was gone.
This one took a touch over an hour and we were rewarded with a cracker-jack view at the top of Mt Blanc and the surrounding mountains. Also there was Lake Emosson, which is famous for (apart from being stunningly beautiful) the scene in James Bond Goldeneye when he jumps off the damn wall (that is the high wall holding all the water in).
We cruised back to town and randomly bumped in to Dave McHugh in the pub down the road. Dave is a Sydney club member, sponsor (Kinselas Hotel) and general legend in terms of getting me names on doors, drink cards, etc. Also a great mentor in terms of this trip - he advised me to make sure I did 10-20km of climbing per weekend for 6-8 weeks prior to the trip, so that I could really enjoy it. Great advice, and while it does not make the hills any easier (he did not say it would), it is certainly making it enjoyable.
Back home and a BBQ for dinner with our new friend Mark and his wife Glynn. Lovely couple. Also, I neglected to mention that Doc and Julz turned up this afternoon to join in the shenanigans, I mean festivities.
Looking forward to the "depart" in Martingy tomorrow. More then.
We had a ringer on board, by the name of Mark. It is always good when someone joins the group who has the same name as someone already in the group, because let us face it - we are blokes and not good at remembering.
This was a 12km climb with virtually no protection from the sun. So hot and hard for over an hour. I was with Mark (new Mark) for half to 2/3 of the way and kept talking as he was the new guy and you always need to keep making pleasant small talk. He soon showed me a clean set of pedals though and was gone.
This one took a touch over an hour and we were rewarded with a cracker-jack view at the top of Mt Blanc and the surrounding mountains. Also there was Lake Emosson, which is famous for (apart from being stunningly beautiful) the scene in James Bond Goldeneye when he jumps off the damn wall (that is the high wall holding all the water in).
We cruised back to town and randomly bumped in to Dave McHugh in the pub down the road. Dave is a Sydney club member, sponsor (Kinselas Hotel) and general legend in terms of getting me names on doors, drink cards, etc. Also a great mentor in terms of this trip - he advised me to make sure I did 10-20km of climbing per weekend for 6-8 weeks prior to the trip, so that I could really enjoy it. Great advice, and while it does not make the hills any easier (he did not say it would), it is certainly making it enjoyable.
Back home and a BBQ for dinner with our new friend Mark and his wife Glynn. Lovely couple. Also, I neglected to mention that Doc and Julz turned up this afternoon to join in the shenanigans, I mean festivities.
Looking forward to the "depart" in Martingy tomorrow. More then.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Etape 1 - setting the bar
From last time, I essentially broke the fold out bed in the middle of the night, fixed it and then broke it again. So a bit of noise, however how better to acqauint myself with my housemates?
We rose reasonably early (830am!) and rolled out an hour later. Destination: Le Tour de France. It was the finish in Verbier (Switzerland) that we were headed for, so it was great to have to pack the passport amongst other items.
As we left Chamonix there was a fairly large tour bunch, so we thought we would jump on the back of the bus. They were chugging along reasonably slowly though, so we went off the front and I tried to hold the Big Unit's wheel for the relatively short (4km ascent). About half way up, some of the tour group started to come past and they looked like they were all giving it a reasonable dig. I noticed one common factor - compact cranks. This in turn reminded me of the Big Unit's comments on compacts, which I will not reiterate here. Suffice to say I had a chuckle though.
At the border we were harassed by a bunch of obnoxious Aussies. We did not know where to start with our return of fire as they were dressed in cycling kit in their van. Further down the rode as we went past, they claimed that they were riding from there. In any case we soldiered on.
Half way up the next climb we stopped for coffee. No it was not a coloquialism, I actually drank coffee. The crossiont was crap - we thought they must have had them since the Big Unit was there last year.
We soldiered on up the next climb and then had the buena vistas of Martingy and a 12km descent to boot. Bittersweet really, as we would have to climb up this on our return.
Once through Martingy, we were on the race route. This is where the real fun began. People were lining the streets many kilometers from the end. At first, one or two only, then more and in particular a lot of kids wanting to give high fives along the way.
We arrived at the village at the bottom (base camp?) and proceeded to have a crack at our first category one (cat 1) climb of our journey. Now there were so many people on the side of the road it was unbelieveable. The climb would have been much more difficult without them encouraging us along.
I made it to about the 1500 metres to go mark and the Gendarne had closed the road off. Now I was separated from the rest of the group and without phone. So I was still excited, however that feeling of being a young lad lost in a shopping centre was in the back of my mind.
No need to worry as I caught up with the Big Unit pretty quickly. Then Baz. Now we had different problems. No food or water and we could not get to the top. While we were planning our strategy for life's primary requirement, a Vittel van came along handing out water. Problem solved. Now all we had to do was find MJ.
Once we had sorted the above, we descended to find a spot to watch the race. We had a group of Aussies in mind that we spotted on the way up. The Big Unit made one of his famous calls as he spotted a place he thought we could get a beer and something to eat. He was more than right. Food, drink, a band and carnival atmosphere followed as we dominated the table we had taken over. There was so much happening it was amazing. We were thoroughly entertained for about three to four hours.
An hour before the race came through, the "caravan" arrived. I use the quotation marks as the caravan is actually about thrity sponsors floats that come past, throwing out junk. I managed to score a few of those blow up bangning sticks early on. I gave a few to the kids next to me so they would not think I was mean when I went toe to toe with them later for the prize goodies. This part was a lot of fun and it was great to see that kids (and adults) around the world are all excited about the prospect of free junk!
There was a fair gap before the riders, which was filled by many important vehichles driving up the hill. Apparently there were 37 motorcycles before the first rider, and this is after all the important vehichles I just mentioned.
This part was really exciting and I also understood the beauty of watching the race in the mountains. You can see the support vehichles make their way up the hill and you know they are right near the riders. Everyone is standing on the road (the whole road) cameras poised with anticipation. Then the motorbikes come through, the commisaires (umpire effectively) vehichle and then the riders.
In this instance, Alberto Contador had had a crack from 5km to go and was about 30 sec ahead when he passed (literally a metre away). Then a group with Lance, Kloden, Sastre and Evans. Then the brothers Schleck, separated by a few seconds. Then the others.
This was truly amazing. Being on the side of the road with all of the other crazy people I had seen on TV and then being part of the seas that separate at the last minute when the riders come through. I was close enough to also see that a lot of these boys were in a world of hurt. Strangely satisfying, as they were only going up the hill slightly faster than me!
Once the riders passed everyone started descending by bike and foot. We managed to get on the wheel of a couple of pros and got a taste of seeing the oceans part for us. All of a sudden there were officials telling everyone (pros included) to move over to the right and we were wondering why. Then there was a car and a rider. A bit further down another car and another rider with the sag wagon behind him (labelled "fin de course"). Those boys must have been 15-20min behind at least and would have struggled to make the time limit.
A truly magnificent day, which from a sporting perspective rates with meeting Dennis Lilliee and the Aussie cricket team when I was eight years old, and the Red Sox game at Fenway last year.
We rose reasonably early (830am!) and rolled out an hour later. Destination: Le Tour de France. It was the finish in Verbier (Switzerland) that we were headed for, so it was great to have to pack the passport amongst other items.
As we left Chamonix there was a fairly large tour bunch, so we thought we would jump on the back of the bus. They were chugging along reasonably slowly though, so we went off the front and I tried to hold the Big Unit's wheel for the relatively short (4km ascent). About half way up, some of the tour group started to come past and they looked like they were all giving it a reasonable dig. I noticed one common factor - compact cranks. This in turn reminded me of the Big Unit's comments on compacts, which I will not reiterate here. Suffice to say I had a chuckle though.
At the border we were harassed by a bunch of obnoxious Aussies. We did not know where to start with our return of fire as they were dressed in cycling kit in their van. Further down the rode as we went past, they claimed that they were riding from there. In any case we soldiered on.
Half way up the next climb we stopped for coffee. No it was not a coloquialism, I actually drank coffee. The crossiont was crap - we thought they must have had them since the Big Unit was there last year.
We soldiered on up the next climb and then had the buena vistas of Martingy and a 12km descent to boot. Bittersweet really, as we would have to climb up this on our return.
Once through Martingy, we were on the race route. This is where the real fun began. People were lining the streets many kilometers from the end. At first, one or two only, then more and in particular a lot of kids wanting to give high fives along the way.
We arrived at the village at the bottom (base camp?) and proceeded to have a crack at our first category one (cat 1) climb of our journey. Now there were so many people on the side of the road it was unbelieveable. The climb would have been much more difficult without them encouraging us along.
I made it to about the 1500 metres to go mark and the Gendarne had closed the road off. Now I was separated from the rest of the group and without phone. So I was still excited, however that feeling of being a young lad lost in a shopping centre was in the back of my mind.
No need to worry as I caught up with the Big Unit pretty quickly. Then Baz. Now we had different problems. No food or water and we could not get to the top. While we were planning our strategy for life's primary requirement, a Vittel van came along handing out water. Problem solved. Now all we had to do was find MJ.
Once we had sorted the above, we descended to find a spot to watch the race. We had a group of Aussies in mind that we spotted on the way up. The Big Unit made one of his famous calls as he spotted a place he thought we could get a beer and something to eat. He was more than right. Food, drink, a band and carnival atmosphere followed as we dominated the table we had taken over. There was so much happening it was amazing. We were thoroughly entertained for about three to four hours.
An hour before the race came through, the "caravan" arrived. I use the quotation marks as the caravan is actually about thrity sponsors floats that come past, throwing out junk. I managed to score a few of those blow up bangning sticks early on. I gave a few to the kids next to me so they would not think I was mean when I went toe to toe with them later for the prize goodies. This part was a lot of fun and it was great to see that kids (and adults) around the world are all excited about the prospect of free junk!
There was a fair gap before the riders, which was filled by many important vehichles driving up the hill. Apparently there were 37 motorcycles before the first rider, and this is after all the important vehichles I just mentioned.
This part was really exciting and I also understood the beauty of watching the race in the mountains. You can see the support vehichles make their way up the hill and you know they are right near the riders. Everyone is standing on the road (the whole road) cameras poised with anticipation. Then the motorbikes come through, the commisaires (umpire effectively) vehichle and then the riders.
In this instance, Alberto Contador had had a crack from 5km to go and was about 30 sec ahead when he passed (literally a metre away). Then a group with Lance, Kloden, Sastre and Evans. Then the brothers Schleck, separated by a few seconds. Then the others.
This was truly amazing. Being on the side of the road with all of the other crazy people I had seen on TV and then being part of the seas that separate at the last minute when the riders come through. I was close enough to also see that a lot of these boys were in a world of hurt. Strangely satisfying, as they were only going up the hill slightly faster than me!
Once the riders passed everyone started descending by bike and foot. We managed to get on the wheel of a couple of pros and got a taste of seeing the oceans part for us. All of a sudden there were officials telling everyone (pros included) to move over to the right and we were wondering why. Then there was a car and a rider. A bit further down another car and another rider with the sag wagon behind him (labelled "fin de course"). Those boys must have been 15-20min behind at least and would have struggled to make the time limit.
A truly magnificent day, which from a sporting perspective rates with meeting Dennis Lilliee and the Aussie cricket team when I was eight years old, and the Red Sox game at Fenway last year.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Prologue: Sydney - London - eight hour layover - Geneva - Chamonix
Arrived at Mascot wondering how heavy my bike box was, thinking it could be a couple of kilos over the 23kg limit. It weighed in at 34! No problem, just transferred 11kg to my reserve bag and checked it in. The check in woman was under the impression that I would be charged 90 pound for the extra baggage, until I showed her a print out from the British Airways sporting baggage web page.
On the plane and I managed to score myself a move to a double seat for the Sydney -> Bangkok leg. Watched Sunshine Cleaning (crap) and Anchor Man (awesome). I was given a few of those small bottles of red and I thought they would be just the thing to stick in the rear pockets of my cycling jersey and chug down at the top of some famous hill. Not to be though, as the liquid police at Bangkok confiscated it.
Back on the plane and no spare seats. Not to worry though, as the couple next to me were pretty cool. Seeing as the flight was getting in to London at 6am, this was the leg to have a kip on, however not straight away. Watched Gladiator and it made me realise that my assumption about the Colloseum in Rome was correct - well almost correct. I had always thought that it would be just like the MCG - nicely grassed and we could kick the Sherrin around. It was quite a shock to see all the tunnels. Anyway, the movie showed I was not far off the mark. Also the great line; relevant to my journey - strength and honour!
Into London and went for a wander around Portobello Market in Notting Hill. It was great to I caught up with Dymphna, Kim and Steve for brunch in Notting Hill. Great to catch up and I was very appreciativee of them giving up part of their weekend to come and meet me.
Back out to Heathrow Terminal 5 and it was interesting to see that they only confirm the gate number an hour (or less) before the flight. I was fortunate enough to get moved to a window seat and we flew directly over Paris, which was quite a sight.
Into Geneva and by gees, by gingos and by crikeys there were a few bike bags, boxes, etc coming off the special baggage carousel. My box was struggling and is unlikely to make the trip back. FYI - if you have a bike that you love, then do not put it in a box!
Into the Fiat and away down the highway. It was amazing to see all the names of the places we were planning to ride and that I had seen on maps on the street signs. Then something truly awesome - a regular traffic message sign referring to road closures for the Tour de France. Just like something you would see in Sydney for a special event, however something even more special.
We arrived at Chamonix and instead of sitting down, we unpacked our bikes and went for a ride for a couple of hours. Probably the best thing in hindsight, seeing as I had been sitting on planes, in departure lounges, on trains, etc for a day and a half - although it did not seem so at the time!
The Big Unit and MJ whipped up a pasta for dinner then I crashed out on the couch. It would have been about 1130pm, so 930am on Sunday in Australia. I had a couple of hours sleep on Friday night, so that is the best part of two days with only a little sleep on the plane. The best part of two days anyway from bed to bed, which is how I count my days when travelling. I woke at 2am and proceeded to set up a folding bed. I will pick the story up there tomorrow.
On the plane and I managed to score myself a move to a double seat for the Sydney -> Bangkok leg. Watched Sunshine Cleaning (crap) and Anchor Man (awesome). I was given a few of those small bottles of red and I thought they would be just the thing to stick in the rear pockets of my cycling jersey and chug down at the top of some famous hill. Not to be though, as the liquid police at Bangkok confiscated it.
Back on the plane and no spare seats. Not to worry though, as the couple next to me were pretty cool. Seeing as the flight was getting in to London at 6am, this was the leg to have a kip on, however not straight away. Watched Gladiator and it made me realise that my assumption about the Colloseum in Rome was correct - well almost correct. I had always thought that it would be just like the MCG - nicely grassed and we could kick the Sherrin around. It was quite a shock to see all the tunnels. Anyway, the movie showed I was not far off the mark. Also the great line; relevant to my journey - strength and honour!
Into London and went for a wander around Portobello Market in Notting Hill. It was great to I caught up with Dymphna, Kim and Steve for brunch in Notting Hill. Great to catch up and I was very appreciativee of them giving up part of their weekend to come and meet me.
Back out to Heathrow Terminal 5 and it was interesting to see that they only confirm the gate number an hour (or less) before the flight. I was fortunate enough to get moved to a window seat and we flew directly over Paris, which was quite a sight.
Into Geneva and by gees, by gingos and by crikeys there were a few bike bags, boxes, etc coming off the special baggage carousel. My box was struggling and is unlikely to make the trip back. FYI - if you have a bike that you love, then do not put it in a box!
Into the Fiat and away down the highway. It was amazing to see all the names of the places we were planning to ride and that I had seen on maps on the street signs. Then something truly awesome - a regular traffic message sign referring to road closures for the Tour de France. Just like something you would see in Sydney for a special event, however something even more special.
We arrived at Chamonix and instead of sitting down, we unpacked our bikes and went for a ride for a couple of hours. Probably the best thing in hindsight, seeing as I had been sitting on planes, in departure lounges, on trains, etc for a day and a half - although it did not seem so at the time!
The Big Unit and MJ whipped up a pasta for dinner then I crashed out on the couch. It would have been about 1130pm, so 930am on Sunday in Australia. I had a couple of hours sleep on Friday night, so that is the best part of two days with only a little sleep on the plane. The best part of two days anyway from bed to bed, which is how I count my days when travelling. I woke at 2am and proceeded to set up a folding bed. I will pick the story up there tomorrow.
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