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.
Friday, July 31, 2009
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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