Operation Etape du Tour: December update

To stay motivated in my Etape du Tour preparation its important to ride often over short distances rather than seldom over long distances 

As soon as I got my place in the Etape du Tour I set about training and establishing a rhythm of getting out on my bike regularly. 

I regularly cycle, provided I am not ill or injured. Thankfully that doesn't happen very often - or at least sports injuries don't often affect my cycling.

The last twelve months have been a little different though. Last summer, after spending a lot of time training and taking part in cyclosportives (Fred Whitton/Lion and Lamb, and Ride London-Essex 100) plus trips to Lombardy and the Côte d'Azur I experienced a bit of burn-out and didn't ride my bike much, apart from for short commutes. I got into motorbike riding too, which required a bit of time and dedication in order to prepare for my tests. That was quite the antidote to sweating it out up hills for kilometres on end.

In the first part of this year I was able to ride a little, but without any real objective. In some ways it was refreshing to not feel under pressure to ride to a particular mileage or speed. Coincidentally, I found I couldn't ride far as I had a prolonged bout of patella syndrome, which kept me from doing cycling or running. Even swimming had become difficult for me.

So after various trips to podiatrists and physiotherapists and following a rehabilitation programme I began to feel an improvement and gradually got back into cycling regularly. 

In terms of my preparation for the Etape du Tour, the key is to get out and ride regularly, even if it is just to do modest mileages in this initial phase. Continuity is key. It is better to do four 20-mile rides in a week, than to do one 80-mile ride and not riding for several days.

Not quite Promenade des Anglais, but the Parc du Vinaigrier, in Nice

It's important that I feel a "pull" towards cycling rather than feeling like I am being pushed into doing it. My rides need to be doable in terms of ability and time management, and it shouldn't feel like a slog.

There's nothing worse than that moment when you've been riding for four hours, it's a Sunday afternoon and you pass country pub after country pub where people are enjoying a slap up lunch and you have another three hours' cycling to do! You then have to will yourself along, working hard to stay motivated and keep the pedals at a reasonable cadence - all while trying to convince yourself that this is good for me.

So this month has been about doing short regular rides a few times a week, with one ride being at a faster pace, and another ride including hills. For November I was riding 125km per week and then in December the aim is 150km per week. These are low mileages, but that will make the rides feel more accessible, fun, and quality training miles rather than junk "pootling around to a café" miles.

My faster miles have been around Regents Park, generally latching onto a group that's riding at a training pace I can sustain. I also want to restart regular trips to the Velodrome. That should definitely help.

In the meantime I aim to keep my eye on the target - the start pen at the Promenade des Anglais, in Nice, and happy to be there.

Related posts 

Another cycling mission for 2024 - Fred Whitton Challenge 

Operation Etape du Tour - Understanding the challenge 

Rides on the Côte d'Azur - Col de Turini 

Operation Étape du Tour: Understanding the challenge

Now that I have signed up for the 2024 Etape du Tour I need to consider exactly what the main challenge is - how to stay ahead of the broom wagon even when riding up long steep hills. With 138km and 4,600m of climbing it won't be easy!

So I have signed up for the 2024 Etape du Tour, which will be Stage 20 of the men's Tour de France - Nice to Col de la Couiolle. 

Firstly, I need to keep I'm mind exactly what the task is that I have to face.

I need to train so that I can cover the 138km (the official distance of the Etape du Tour, including the descent to Beuil) and 4,600m of climbing over four categorised mountain passes without being caught by the broom wagon. 

Basically the "end-of-the-race" car and broom wagon set off between 20 minutes and half an hour after the last wave of riders cross the start line, and travels at a minimum speed - around 18km/hour and you have to stay ahead of it.

Riders go into start pens with a specific start time or wave. If you're a strong rider who has done the Etape in previous years in the recent past you get set off from one of the earlier pens so you could get a 90-minute headstart on the broom wagon - maybe more, depending on the start time. So those riders will never have an issue with making the time cut. Even if they were caught in a queue at the feed stations or had to deal with a puncture they'd be okay.

As a slower rider who hasn't ridden the Etape recently, I will most likely be set off from one of the last pens - maybe even the pen immediately before the broom wagon. So I will have very little slack for making the time cut, and that could end up being a stressful ride. That was my issue when I was hoping to ride the 2022 edition, particularly because the route went from Briançon up the Col du Lautaret immediately from the gun. I would have had to do the hill climb of my life all the way to the summit of Galibier in order to remain ahead of the broom wagon, and I didn't feel sure I could to do that.

It is possible to change pen - though generally from an early pen to a later pen. It's harder to get moved forward unless you have a specific reason, like proving that you are a top level rider - I wasn't able to do that in 2022, but I did get moved forward by one pen on the basis of being cycling media. But that only bought me an extra 20 minutes.

Past editions of the Etape du Tour, like that one, involved 160km-long (100-mile) stages or longer, so at least the 2024 event is mercifully short on distance, even if the amount of climbing can't be ignored. 

Also, I have done half of the route already, and I know that from Nice city centre the terrain will be flat to false flat, and there's no significant climbing until the approach road to L'Escarène. So I will get roughly a 10km warm-up where I can stay in a bunch and ride quickly without using too much energy.

The proper work will start at km 14 on the 10km Col de Braus.

So I know I need to practice good bunch riding/road racing skills for that early section, which may be the longest section of flat in the whole ride!

Track sessions at Herne Hill Velodrome will help, as well as joining chaingang circuits of Regents Park. Then of course I can sign up and do a local race - something I haven't done in years. I did one for "fun" in 2021 and I was probably the oldest rider in the field, sprinting after youngsters less than half my age. My heart didn't know what had hit it and I needed a week to recover! Hopefully I can ease myself back in by doing a race with other veterans!

As for the rest, it's all about good hill climbing strength. 

Hardknott Pass, a featured climb in the Fred Whitton Challenge 

Living in Crystal Palace, South London we have no shortage of hills. I can't cycle to or from Central London without going up a hill. So I will certainly be keeping up my regular hill rep circuit, and even going extended versions of it.

My weekend rides will go either into the Surrey Hills or the Kent Hills. For a bit more variety I could go further out of London and go further South, into the South Downs, or further North into the Chilterns.

Then if I want to be more adventurous I  an ride in different national parks like the Peak District, Yorkshire Dales, North York Moors, Lake District, or Head into Wales - Brecon Beacons or Eryri (formerly known as Snowdonia).

The hills in these areas will definitely give me lots of climbing practice, especially as they will be longer than the hills in the London area.

However, the trick is to find an event or route that will give me 4,000m+ of climbing. That's not easy to find. One of the hardest cyclosportives in the UK, the Fred Whitton Challenge, takes in a 180km (112 miles) route over the toughest climbs of the Lake District. It's a hard day in the saddle, though only makes around 3,800m of climbing. 

So a trip to France, Spain or Italy to ride up Alpine climbs definitely beckons - where I can ride over 4,000m in a day, but also ride uphill for 20km+. So my preparation will include at least one trip to do these sorts if rides.

So as you can see, my work is cut out for me. Now I just need to get my bike out!

Related posts

Etape du Tour comes to Nice

Tackling Fred Whitton light - (aka Lion and Lamb Challenge)

Rides on the Cote d'Azur - Col de Turini

Etape du Tour comes to Nice, and I'm riding it (hopefully)!

At the unveiling of the 2024 Tour de France route, Stage 20 - Nice to Col de la Couillole was announced as the route for the Etape du Tour. I have been lucky (or unlucky) enough to get a place to ride the 138km and 4,600m climbing from the Cote d'Azur to the mountains in the Mercantour National Park. I really want to do it before I get too old!

It's exciting to know that the men's 2024 Tour de France will conclude with what could be epic stages in the Nice and Alpes-Maritimes region. The traditional ceremonial finale through Paris is being skipped due to the Olympic Games taking place there at that time. Well, Paris's loss is very much Nice's gain, as the World will focus on the riders as they battle over the col d'Eze during the final time trial between Monaco and the capital of the French Riviera. 

This conclusion to La Grande Boucle has the potential to have the same suspense as the climax in 1989 when Greg Lemond won the Tour de France by 8 seconds from Laurent Fignon, after bettering him in the time trial on the Champs Elysées. That was the last time a Tour de France ended with a time trial. So we wait with baited breath to see how things will pan out between Messrs Vingegaard, Pogacar, and AN Other.

On the subject of stages of the Tour de France, I am very pleased (though also slightly apprehensive) to have bagged a chance to ride in the Etape du Tour event.

This challenge ride offers lesser mortals like you or I to be a pro for the day and ride a designated stage of the current year's Tour. Amaury Sports Organisation, who run the Tour de France have chosen stage 20 (Nice to Col de la Couillole) as the stage. It definitely is quite a challenge. It would have been much easier to just ride something shorter, flatter, and with lots of opportunities to stop for snack and take photos. But something in me just likes a push myself, and I guess it has to be done before I get way to old to put my body through it.

Having taken part in the Etape on previous occasions I know what a great event it is - around 12,000 riders from countries all around the world line up with their road racing bikes to snake over cols and along valley roads, in exactly the same wheel tracks that the pros will ride a few days or weeks later. 

There had been speculation as to whether this really would be the route for the Etape du Tour. Locals with their ear to the ground had suggested that it would be a Nice stage, on the basis that many hotels were already fully booked for the first week of July. Furthermore, Nice were very keen to host the Etape du Tour given that the last time it was due to take place, in 2020, the event was cancelled due to Coronavirus.

However, other folks could not believe that the organisers would choose a stage that finishes right in the middle of the remote Mercantour mountains, leaving thousands of cyclists with either a torturous trip back to Nice, probably in the mother of all traffic jams or riding 110km back to Nice, or maybe even having to bed down in a field if they can't get digs in one of the handful of gites and Bed & Breakfasts in the nearby hamlet of Beuil.  

But it seems the organisers were not put off by that prospect, and have nevertheless chosen this as the stage for we amateurs to ride.

I must say that I am not fazed by the logistics at all, and managed to hit the reserve button for a room in a rather nice hotel at Guillaumes, about 10 miles from the finish line.

That aside, it must be said that the route will be a beauty. Like the original attempt to hold the Etape du Tour in 2020, the feature climb of the day will be Col de Turini - a climb that I got to know very well last year when I visited the Cote d'Azur. The route will go up the climb from L'Escarene village and over the Col de Braus - exactly the route that I took last year (though I had to turn back a few miles after Moulinet because of the fading light).

L'Escarene village

What I have seen of the route is absolutely spectacular. Riding up the 10km of Col de Braus and 20km+ of Col de Turini will have us suitably entertained - which we will need as we round the 101 hairpins!

I know that the descent from Turini to Bollene Vesubie will be a little technical, as I recall from my previous visit. Thereafter, this will be new territory for me - and probably the hardest part psychologically, as I will still only be about half-way through the route and there will be another two long climb to do plus lots of gentle lumps and bumps. The pros will have this stage as a summit finish, while the official Etape du Tour finish will be in the valley at Beuil. I like to think that the descent into the village will be neutralised.

As mentioned, I have ridden the Etape du Tour in the past - the distant past being 20 years ago! I rode a stage from Pau to Bayonne, going via some not-very-well-known Pyrenean climbs. I got through the ride, but it was still touch and go, and the preparation for it became a 24/7 thing.  These events can't be taken lightly. 

Unlike some of these amateur rides along the route of Classics races like Paris-Roubaix or Tour of Flanders, the Etape is treated as a race by the organisers. The winners are garnered with public acclamation and get their 15 minutes of fame in the local media. Others can compete to achieve gold or silver time standards, and unnervingly, there is a minimum speed. If you get caught by the broom wagon/end-of-the-race car you are eliminated from the race. Your timing chip is unceremoniously removed, your bike is put in a truck and a waiting bus drives you and dozens of other failed riders back to the finish where you do a walk of shame past the guys receiving their medals. 

That has also happened to me - when the Etape du Tour was a 250km through the Massive Central over the Puy Mary many years ago. I was not enjoying the ride at all, and after 160km (100 miles) I just got slower and slower like I was half hoping to be caught. The annoying thing is that the point where I got into the broom wagon, unbeknown to me, was about half a mile from a big descent. So I could have just about made an escape if I had had more faith. Instead I endured an interminable, demoralising coach trip through the back roads of the Cantal region to reach Saint-Flour.

After that sorry episode, I vowed never to be caught by a broom wagon, so it is with this in mind that I do my training to ride the 138km and 4,600m of climbing from Nice to Col de la Couillole. Knowing the climbs definitely helps mentally, so I plan to visit the area a couple of times between now and the big day.

I must also mention that this will be Etape du Tour Take 2. I had a place in the event last year when the stage went from Briancon to Alpe d'Huez - another area that I know well. I trained a lot for the event, but in the end I just didn't feel I quite had the fitness. This wasn't helped by the fact that I had been ill during my training. Judging by the results, I now believe that I probably would have made the cut to get through the race, but I think more miles and more Alpine trips in the run-up to the event would have given me more of a can-do attitude. 

I like to think that I will have it on July 7th next year. Keep an eye out for updates on my preparation.

Related posts  

Riding up the Col de Braus

Riding up the Col de Turini

I'm doing a cyclosportive!

Swimrun on the French Riviera - Part 1

I had been doing swimming and running training during this year, so it was time to do a Swimrun event. I took the plunge and headed to the South of France to do the Otillo Swimrun, Cannes

Last year I somehow got through the whole 12 months without taking part in a single swimrun event, despite having done regular training. I didn't want 2023 to go the same way. Sadly, the year didn't start as well as planned as I suffered from a bout of patella syndrome, so doing any race was the last thing on my mind. I wasn't confident that I had the fitness to make a decent account of myself so didn't enter any races of any sort in advance. 

Eventually, once my knee healed and I began to resume training, I sent off my entry for the Grafham Water SwimRun, organised by the As Keen As Mustard crew. However, when race-day came I didn't feel confident that I would race in the way I wanted, and might end up feeling disappointed with my comeback. So, not believing I was strong enough to make the trip up to Huntingdon, Cambridgeshire, I opted to stay put in London. 

To be honest, after looking at some of the pictures of the windswept landscape providing the backdrop for bedraggled competitors crawling out of the vast, choppy reservoir, I was comfortable with my decision.

Mind you, I was less happy to have lost £53 for my no-show at the event! So with that, I resolved to only enter events when I felt absolutely sure that I would go - even if it meant paying a premium entry fee for entering a few days before the event. It was better to do that than to pay an early bird "cheaper price" which was not actually that cheap, and then lose the money for yet again another no-show.

Doing things this way meant that by Autumn my racing season had consisted of just two triathlons, Swim Serpentine open water event (deferred from last year due to the state funeral of Elizabeth II), and the Paris-Versailles Grande Classique running race. Some might argue that my season was on a roll, but this is a far cry from the old days when I would do between 15 and 20 events per season. 

In any case, a swimrun was was noticeably absent from this assortment of activities, so beckoning. With the season-end fast approaching, I needed to get my rear into gear pretty damn quick and put on a swimrun bib.

Well, very handily I had a choice of two events, both of them in one of my favourite places, the French Riviera. In late October would be SwimRun Cote d'Azur in Nice; a week earlier, Ottilo SwimRun would be contested in Cannes. My gut reaction would have been to take on both events.

However, my competitive eyes were bigger than my racing stomach, and I felt it more prudent to pick one event. 

Cannes was the preferred choice as it is part of the most famous franchise in the world of swimrun, and arguably the reference standard among these races. There would likely be a large, international field as opposed to the Nice event which seemed smaller in organisation and with mainly local French participants. Although this event cost a little less than the Otillo race, flights to Nice in late October were more expensive than for the mid-October Cannes race due to it happening at the start of the half-term school holidays. So I booked a mid-October flight to Nice, all set to race in Cannes.

As swimrun events involve constantly alternating between running and swimming over a set route, the headline event information is given as the total running distance and the total swimming distance. You then look at the route in more detail on the event website to see the breakdown of the number and distances of the runs and  swims as well as the route for each section. 

Ottilo Cannes offered a choice of three distances: the full distance - 33km run/8km swim; sprint distance - 10km run/3km swim; experience distance - 5km run/2km swim. 

I opted for the Experience distance, so my race wouldn't be starting until 10.30am on the Saturday morning, which seemed a civilised time to start a race, and made a change from a 7am start for the triathlons I'd done.  

From my lodgings near Nice St Augustin station, I caught the 8.15 train to make the hour-long journey to Cannes. Then with my hired bicycle I cycled a mile to reach the Juliana Hotel to register, before following the waymarked route to the event village on the nearby Plage Zamenhof.

Along the main drag, known as La Croisette, there was a buzzing atmosphere as hundreds of wet-suit-clad athletes wearing race bibs were milling around the promenade with friends and family, or in front of the gazing eyes of the locals. The area was a sea of orange and purple bibs and hats, with folks wearing trail shoes, minimalist or barefoot shoes all in varying styles and colours. 

These are the shoes worn for swimrun, as events generally involve running on trails or other off-road areas. Minimalist shoes work well (if you can run in them) as they are light and won't weigh your legs down so much when swimming - yes, you swim with your shoes on.

Wetsuits are specially made for swimrun. They just come down to your knees and zip up at the front. There are one or two pockets to allow you to carry things like a compass and whistle, a first-aid kit, a collapsible cup, and a couple of refreshments. The neoprene is a similar thickness to a triathlon/open water wetsuit but with a lot more flexibility to allow you to run in it - yes you run with your wetsuit on. 

Many people had short-sleeved or sleeveless wetsuits given the particularly hot autumn temperatures, though I was still happy to wear my wetsuit with long sleeves. It is unheard-of for me to get too hot during an event involving open-water swimming!

Among the crowds a wide selection of languages could be heard. Naturally, there was a predominance of French, but German, Italian, English, and Swedish were also spoken by significant numbers of athletes, to reflect the global appeal of this sport which began following a bet in a pub in 2002, between some friends, to see how far they could swim and run across the Stockholm archipelago. 

Folks had travelled from as far afield as the US or South Africa, and I also saw folks from back home. I even noticed a woman in Tri London kit. It seemed that many local residents had come out to see the spectacle after having seen the adverts for the event, and perhaps had watched it over the years since its inaugural edition in 2018.

Even though I felt sure I could cover the distance, and I felt comfortable in my environment, having made many trips to the Côte d'Azur, I felt a sense of nervous anticipation, when looking at these seriously finely tuned male and female athletes - swimrun veterans. Of course, I was fit, and agewise I probably was a veteran - though not in swimrun terms, given I didn't have the experience to match my advancing years. 

Oh well, I just needed to reassure myself that the distances I was doing were less than what I'd done in training sessions back home in London. Furthermore, I had been swimming in the Mediterranean every day for the previous four days, so this should not hold any surprises. At the worst case scenario my French was good enough to flag down a Good Samaritan and catch a lift back to base if things totally belly-flopped! 

My main concerns were that my shoes wouldn't come off while swimming, and my untested goggles purchased just the previous day would not be too loose and fill with water. Oh, and I hoped I would't lose my timing chip, or find myself alone all at sea, not knowing which way to swim. My head was filled with a lot of thoughts, but I was determined to stay in control - sort of!

After dropping off my rucksack at the bag drop, all Sprint and Experience distance athletes gathered at the start gantry for a warm-up and pre-race briefing. 

Surprisingly, the briefing was done only in English, which seemed strange given that we were very much in France. Regardless of the language the official spoke, I and the rest of us rang out a welcome cheer on hearing that the sea was free of jellyfish. 

Briefing over, we had a final opportunity to acclimatise to the water, so I used this moment to dunk myself in the sea and check that my new Speedo goggles were doing their job. They felt fine. 

Then I rejoined my fellow athletes to anxiously await the start gun. "The water's a really nice temperature isn't it?" I said in French to two women with whom I stood alongside. "It's super," replied one of them, smiling. 

We then continued our conversation, talking about where we were from and our experience in swimrun. They were two friends who had travelled down from Lyon. Like me, they were newcomers to the sport.

Emmanuelle had done this event the previous year as her first ever swimun race. This event was therefore her second swimrun. Juliette had done just one previous swimrun near her home. They would be racing as a pair for the first time. It was reassuring to meet two people in the same boat as me.

After Emmanuelle gave me a few tips on what to expect along the course, and us joking about meeting up at the finish some time before nightfall, the countdown to zero began, and at the gun we sprang forward to the whoops and cheers of the spectators. 

Our first challenge was the roughly 1km run along the camber of the beach. This was already pretty taxing on my legs as I ran along the beach  like I was drunk - and my shoes were filling with sand. This was going to be more complicated than anticipated.

(See link below for Part 2)

Related posts 

Swimrun on the French Riviera - Part 2

Bewl Water Swimrun by as Keen as Mustard

VivoBarefoot minimalist shoes for swimrun

Rides on the Côte d'Azur: Col de Turini (nearly twice!)

Descending Col de Turini towards Bollène-Vésubie

Col de Turini, which starts 20 miles North of Nice is known among some petrol heads as "the drive of your life". With its dozens of switchbacks over roughly 25km (15 miles), rising up through the Alpes-Maritimes, towering 1,604m over the French Riviera it's not surprising that the climb has this label. It is also pretty popular among cyclists too, and has featured in the Tour de France and Paris-Nice cycle races. 

In all the cycling trips I have done to Nice I have never got round to riding up this climb. Sometimes it was due to a lack of time - you really need a full day to do it and enjoy the landscape. Sometimes it was due to a lack of form and fitness. It's one thing to ride up Col d'Èze, which starts in the heart of Nice, or ride up La Grande Corniche towards Monaco and pick up the Col de Madone de la Gorbio. These would be classed as local rides. But Turini, while still in the region, and easily within the capabilities of a professional cycle racer, is a significant effort for we ordinary folks. It can make for a full-on excursion and you definitely need to have the legs to ride uphill for the best part of three hours.

Turini Take One

Route on Strava

So on my trip to Nice in June, when the weather was getting to its hottest, I decided on the Saturday morning that this would be the day to go.

I had hired a BMC road bike with low enough gears from Bike Trip, packed my bag with energy bars, bananas, biscuits and a few sandwiches and shoved in a Camelback for extra hydration. The sustenance was there, as well as the motivation. The legs just needed to follow.

Setting off from my lodgings near the Saint-Roch part of Nice was straightforward, as I headed towards L'Èscarène from where I would hit an appetiser of a climb - the Col de Braus - which was more like a hearty entrée! My ride up this spectacular col is described in a previous post.

Once I had conquered Braus, I took the left-hand turn at the bottom of the descent to immediately start the climb up the mighty Turini. No rest for the wicked. 

Well, I am not that mean, so I did stop for 20 minutes or so in the shade of a large tree to enjoy a banana and a ham sandwich. I would've loved a chocolate bar too, but it wouldn't have survived the blazing heat. 

The long road up

Col de Turini from Sospel

By this time it was after 2pm and the sun was at its hottest. There I stood, in front of the sign which spelled out what lay ahead - Col de Turini, 24km, average gradient 5%. That would mean around 3 hours of climbing way up high. It was a slightly daunting thought; turning in the opposite direction and riding downhill to Sospel seemed much more appealing. But I was here now, and I reminded myself of all those times I had wished I could attempt the climb.

I calculated that the gradient would be no worse, in fact slightly easier than what I had tackled over the 10km climb up the Col de Braus. A marginally easier gradient over more than double the distance. I was sure I could handle that. I had all afternoon to ride, and once up there it would just be a couple of hours' constant descending back to the coast. Simples! Maybe.....

Starting out on the opening kilometres was quite exciting. Initially the route was under tree cover, which was a blessing at this time of day. There were quite a few other cyclists on this stretch of road - some were going up, though most were flying down. We greeted each other with a certain joviality and glee, like we all had a collective appreciation of this stunning part of the world.

Cyclists weren't the only road users making the most of these famous hairpins. There were various groups of motorcyclists, plus countless cars, often classic cars - convertible old sports cars, minis. There were old Ford Escorts, Ford Capris, BMWs, Porches, vintage Renaults, Mercedes, and other makes. Some cars had race numbers on them. I don't know if this was an organised event taking place, or if it was just proper bucket list stuff. I must admit I too, dream of having the chance to drive a car or ride a motorbike on this road too.

But today, I contented myself with going up at a leisurely pace - the only pace I had in me - and stopping to take photos. Such scenery was well worth a few photos. Within a few switchbacks I had already climbed almost 500m and looking back on the road that I had travelled up made me marvel at the sight of the tarmac snaking up and twisting around through the vegetation and between the hills.

As I stopped to look back, a guy with a Dutch accent rode by and greeted me. "It's amazing isn't it?" I agreed with him. I'm glad he still had the energy to appreciate the landscape, given that he was pouring with sweat and his fair complexion made him a strong candidate for a sunburn or even sunstroke somewhere along the climb.

Soon after this little interaction I began to feel the effects of the heat, as well as a little fatigue. The road surface at the section was slightly rough and made turning the pedals feel like hard work. I stopped again further along the road for more snacks and energy drink. 

Viaduct at Notre Dame de Menour

Knowing that I still had 16km (10 miles) to go made things feel a little demoralising. So my mission was to focus on the beautiful landscape and how dramatic the mountains looked in the distance. Over the next 7km (4 miles) my target was a chapel on a hill. It seemed a random place for a monument to be situated, but it looked like a place that could form a haven and a place for respite, at the half-way mark.

On reaching the chapel, known as Notre Dame de Menour, the building wasn't as pretty as it looked from afar, which was a little disappointing. What I did like though was the nearby viaduct, which gave way to another spot to have a rest, and also see other cyclists. A couple of bikepacking Italian cyclists stopped and asked me if I could film them riding under the viaduct, and then we got chatting. They were on their way to Nice after having set off from Turin a few days earlier. I guess they were doing a variant on the Route des Grandes Alpes. They were planning on getting to Nice, though would be sstaying in Menton that evening. When I suggested that they were near enough to Nice to go directly there that same day they laughed and said "We want to enjoy our ride, and not suffer!" I guess they had a point. Maybe I should have taken a leaf out of their book. After all, I was due to return to Nice that evening. Time was marching on, and I was still only half-way to the summit of Col de Turini! Maybe it was better to just enjoy the sights along the way rather than wreaking myself in a race against the clock to get to the top. 

It was coming up to 4pm and I still had around 10km (6 miles to get to the summit). I passed through a little village called Moulinet and considered stopping there for a drink. It was one of those places that is very small but yet it was still possible to get lost because the main centre consisted of various little alleyways and steps. A friendly villager pointed me in the direction of the shop when I asked. It was less a shop and more a bar with other odds and sods for sale. I had half hoped I could maybe get a Coca Cola to give me a bit of pep to complete the final part of the climb, but I didn't want to feel lured into hanging out in a bar making polite conversation with the locals when time was not on my side. In the end I gave up on that idea of a Coke and put my head down, rejoined the road and pressed on as far as I could. I reassured myself that my own provisions and a bit of adrenaline would give me the wings I needed. 

 

Thinking of an Uber under a threatening sky

Unfortunately, the sun had decided to go in - at least on this section of the climb. The village looked a bit grim and in fact the sky began to display a matching shade. It looked like a storm was coming in, which began to make me feel apprehensive about continuing to gain altitude. At this point I was over 3km (2 miles) north of Moulinet and it looked like I wouldn't see any more sign of life until the summit. 

That would put me on the back foot if I were caught in a thundery shower. I'm not sure I would have the phone coverage to call an Uber, or if anyone would want to come all the way out here. Suddenly all the classic cars and motorbikers, even cyclists had vanished. Did they all know something I didn't know? This was all looking rather ominous and I decided that given that we were approaching late afternoon, it wasn't the time to be taking risks up in the mountains. An Uber would've been ideal

So with that, I decided to turn back and take the quickest route back to Sospel. An Uber would've been great, but I was happy to get on a train back to Nice. This was my second big climb of the day (after Col de Braus) and my old legs were feeling the kilometres. 

Sospel

As I retraced my wheeltracks back through Moulinet I made a quick stop to consult that map and see if there was a quicker way than just going down the Col de Turini. While sitting on a wall in the village centre car park, a local man stopped. "Can I help you, Sir?" he said. I told him I was fine and was just deciding on my route. On hearing my reply not only did he recognise my accent as that of an anglophone, he also realised I wasn't a man. To which point he was quite apologetic. "Oh I'm sorry, it's not that you look like a guy or anything .....I just saw you there in your cycling kit alone and imagined that you were a man.....you don't often see women out cycling.....well not French women.....are you American?" I felt a bit sorry for the guy who was trying to find the right words without potentially causing offence.

I just smiled and told him not to worry. We then struck up a conversation about the local area and he spoke proudly about how great it is for cycling, and how impressed that a young woman from London was out riding up the hills. Well, he didn't kinow that I'm not that young and I didn't want to admit that I had given up my ride up the Col de Turini. I was happy to leave it at that! I asked him if he cycles in the local area, to which he replied, "Oh no, I'm too old to be doing that. I prefer to contemplate the landscape from my car!" [Plus ça change!]

Not finding any quicker alternatives, I zoomed back down to Sospel the way I came up. Although the day was now looking a little grey on this road, once in Sospel the sun reappeared. I must say Sospel is a pretty little town. Its cobbled streets lined with rustic buildings with salmon-coloured façades looked even more attractive in the evening sunshine, and many folks were doing their early evening passegiata along the River Bevera. Nearby, was a political rally going on, ahead of the legislative elections. It all seemed very cordial, though it's worth noting that this area and swathes of the Alpes-Maritimes region (though not Nice) is Marine Le Pen country...

Thank God for SNCF! A train pulled into the station 15 minutes after I arrived and I was effortlessly enjoying the lovely landscape until my stop at Nice-Saint Roch station, 10 minutes from my apartment. It had been long, pleasant day, but I felt that I had unfinished business vis à vis Col de Turini. 

Turini Take Two!

Col de Turini from Luceram

Route on Strava

My original plan had been to ride up Col de Braus and Col de Turini on the Saturday and then do a less epic, more local, but nevertheless beautiful ride around the Gorges du Loup. However, given my failure to reach the summit of the mighty Turini the previous day, I didn't feel right going anywhere else but up to that same peak, and properly getting to photograph myself at the signboard, even getting the T-shirt. 

So once again I left my abode and hit the familiar road to L'Èscarène. Once there, instead of taking the right-hand turn to the Col de Braus, my route took me up the left fork, tracing the 27km directly to the Col de Turini. This route initially led me to another pretty hill-top town, Luceram. While there I came across a few hikers and some runners. This seemed quite a sporty place. One couple who were finishing their run chatted to me and were quite impressed that I was riding all the way to the summit. "We usually go just as far as Peira Cava. But you're really tough going to Turini," they said. I was either tough, or just living in ignorant bliss! 

On the approach to lovely Luceram

Pushing on to Peira Cava

Hearing the locals saying this made me wonder if there was something I should be wary of. In any case I continued up the road through the lush vegetation. It was quite impressive to see how much altitude I gained over a short distance, as Luceram became a small sight in the distance within a short time. Also the landscape changed as I neared the treeline, which gradually gave way to mountains - proper Alpine giants. It was hard to imagine that these peaks were barely 25km (15 miles) from the sea.

This route seemed even more desolate than the way up from Sospel. There were no motorbikes or classic cars. I only saw a handful of cyclists coming down or going up.  Who knows, there were probably more marmots than people around here - all concealed in the undergrowth. 

It was a warm day, though not obscenely hot. I was also glad to be doing this in the morning, rather than worrying about having to battle the afternoon heat, or beat my self-imposed teatime deadline. I must say, as a general rule I try to end my big rides by 6pm. To me, there's something demoralising about still riding your bike when most people are enjoying an early evening snack or aperitif and you're still pedalling away, miles from home after having left the house first thing in the morning. On these trips I do like to have time in the day to do relaxing off-the-bike activities and take in other sights and sounds of a place I visit. 

So the prospect of finishing my bike ride before teatime made me feel comfortable about the challenge. 

Mercantour moutains seen from Peira Cava

After countless twists and turns on a gentle gradient I reached Peira Cava. This place seemed like the place to be. There were various outdoor activity centres and log cabin chalets, with nearby woodland and walking trails. This was the place to get the dramatic vistas of the Mercantour mountains, with the sea further into the distance. I can understand why the couple I'd met earlier on would see it sufficient to come as far as here and then turn back.

Turini, at last!

Being a newbie to this part of the Alpes-Maritimes my curiosity made me carry on up to see what I could see over the mountain. The Col de Turini towers at 1,604m above sea level. However this ride topped out before the col, at around 1,615m. So from Peira Cava the ride sloped slightly downhill, as it twisted further north. 

Finally arrived at the summit

On reaching Col de Turini, I was rewarded with a somewhat less spectacular view of a car park, a cafe, a souvenir shop and a meeting point for cyclists, hikers, motorbikes, and a few motorists. What was lost in dramatic views was compensated for in lots of chit-chat among the various parties about how the route was on their way up. There are three ways up - my successful route up from Luceram, my abandoned route up from Sospel, and the route I'd be coming down, via Bollène-Vésubie. This was the way the Tour de France came up on stage 2 of the 2020 edition. 

Again, I received applause from different people who saw I'd come up by pedal power. One guy did ask if I was sure I didn't have an engine tucked away somewhere on my bike! Then there were various photo opportunities next to the different summit signboards and the chance for a snack. The motorbikers tucked into burger and chips, while I just had a small sandwich and an energy bar to give me a zip to get home. I always find it interesting that the motorbikers would require more sustenance than I for this sort of excursion. It's one of life's great mysteries. 

It would be about 60km (38 miles) before I reached Nice. Really? I was quite surprised to realise how many miles I had left. I was hoping the signboard was wrong. But, on enquiring to one of the motorbikers it was confirmed that the signboard was totally accurate. The good news was that the ride would be practically all downhill. 

View of La Bollène-Vésubie when descending Col de Turini

Heading down to Bollène-Vésubie was a fast, steep descent which required concentration. It wasn't as technical as a Lake District descent, but the beautiful scenery was a distraction on the way down so I took extra care. This village and the nearby Saint Martin de Vésubie looked wonderful from my viewpoint on the switchbacks up above. 

The gorgeous route home

Finally my route took me into the Vésubie valley, where I headed along a never-ending road that was constantly on a descending false flat. After Lantosque came the Gorges de la Vésubie, which was an amazing sight along this main road. 

The irregular erosion in the rock gave a really dramatic effect, especially in the afternoon sunshine. It was one of those roads that is so pleasant you don't want it to end. I thought I was getting a bout of Stendhal Syndrome looking at these wonderful features. The gorge was a work of art! There was the option to climb up a side road to reach the parallel Gorge de la Tinée which would get me back to Nice. But I stuck with what I had, especially as the riding was effortless. You can get too much gorgeous stuff in a day!

The main road back to the coast via the Gorges de la Vésubie

Finally, it all came to an abrupt end when I reached a T-junction and took a left-hand turn to go through a less scenic area that had road works and a deviation that took a round-the-houses hilly route to reach a spot that was right opposite my original  start point at the T-junction - some things never change!

Soon afterwards I was in "home" territory as my route was basically a very long straight segregated cycle path along the River Var down to Saint Laurent du Var. It was a lovely smooth, wide path, alongside the main road, with distance markers from Saint Laurent, and at the half-way point a water fountain, which was getting a lot of use on this warm day.

In the distance were local hills in the Nice area, as well as the regular passing of aeroplanes, indicating the proximity of the airport - a place where I would be in approximately 24 hours' time. It was hard to imagine myself back in London the following day.

For the time being I just wanted to keep the smile on my face and enjoy the moment. It had been a fun-packed day, going up into the higher reaches of the Alpes-Maritimes with its spectacular mountain-top views, then plunging through the most amazing gorges.

Now I was on my way to doing my off-the-bike activity, a dip in the sea at Cagnes-sur-Mer. My legs still felt good and I was very happy to have managed to (at last) ride up the Col de Turini. Great to have ticked it off my list of iconic cols to do, and especially in these lovely conditions. This was definitely not a day to complain about!

Relaxing before taking a swim at Cagnes-sur-Mer

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Rides on the Cote d'Azur: Col de Braus

Route on Strava

When I visited Nice earlier this year I made a deal with myself to ride the col de Turini, one of the most famous climbs in the Alpes-Maritimes region. On many previous occasions I had visited the Côte d'Azur I was supposed to ride up this giant of the Mercantour National Park, but a lack of time and/or fitness prevented me from tackling the ~25km climb that literally takes you into the clouds. 

So on this occasion in mid-June, with my legs primed with a few thousand miles of climbing I felt ready to give it a go.

Very helpfully, a bike hire shop in the centre of Nice, Bike Trip, had decent road bikes available, so I bagged one for the long weekend. After settling into my lodgings I hit the road, starting with a warm-up loop over the col d'Eze, dropping down to Menton and scooting across the border to Ventimiglia, then returning to Nice along the coast. 

Le Calendre

Being on the coast it would have been rude not to stop off for at a beach. So I broke up my ride with a stopover at the secluded Le Calandre beach, in Ventimiglia - a highly recommended place for a swim and drink.  

The next morning, I set off from central Nice, breezed through places like Saint-Roch, La Trinité and Drap in the suburbs and followed the route to L'Escarène. 

While the Côte d'Azur is associated with beautiful crystal blue sea, as its name suggests, don't forget about the abundance of gorges in this part of the world. 

These natural features cut into the rocks beside the local rivers are as spectacular as they are ubiquitous. 

Near L'Escarène was a gorge along the River Paillon, which wound in and out of the rock as the road twisted and turned. Considering it was the height of summer there was hardly any traffic. Perhaps unsurprisingly, folks had opted for the coastal areas where they could cool off in the sea given the oppressive heat. However, up here in the hills was really the place to be in my opinion. In fact, the many rocks and archways to ride through gave an automatic cooling effect. It was bliss to have these roads practically to myself. 

Gorge de Paillon

After around four miles my route took me to the hilltop village of L'Escarène. Although there weren't many motorists, there were still a fair few club cyclists. Many of them seemed local, but a few were not. One guy, an Italian, actually stopped and asked me in Italian directions to the col de Braus. I replied in Italian and pointed him in the right direction - as if I were a local, and speaking in Italian was the most natural thing that two random strangers would do on a road in France!

Later, while riding through L'Escarène, a woman overtook me and waved as she passed. She was in CAMS-Basso kit. I hadn't seen any of their riders back home at all this year. So the South of France is where I needed to be to find the UK-based team!

After a brief toilet stop and refilling of water at the fountain in the centre of the village, the business end of my ride began. By that, I didn't mean Turini, but the appetiser - col de Braus.

L'Escarène

Col de Braus has different memories for me. The first time I cycled up it, was towards the end of a longish day after I had spent time in the col de Vence area. 

At L'Escarène I stopped at a local shop to buy a few snacks, and chatted to the folks inside who gave the usual "I'm so impressed you're riding out here on your own". One woman was very fearful for me and said, "Are you really sure you want to go up the col de Braus? It's a very tough climb." Being young and cocky I replied, "Of course - I've got the right gearing and the legs - I'll be fine" Famous last words. 

This road that wiggled around interminably with 8-10% ramps was not the ideal climb to be doing at 6 o'clock on a Saturday early evening. After around three miles I stopped to look back down and see how far I'd come. That was one of the most impressive views I'd ever seen of a road. The wiggles were distinctly of Sa Calobra proportions [for those familiar with roads in Mallorca] and then some. Feeling impressed, but tired, I decided that it would be prudent to return to Nice via the way I had come up as the sun was still out, and I didn't feel confident in taking the descent potentially in the shade and arriving in Sospel, miles out from my base in Nice. Needless to say, the descent was a beautiful merry-go-round all the way back to sea level.

On another occasion when riding up to the col de Braus, I misread the IGN (French Ordnance Survey) map, thinking I could get there on a road directly from Gorbio and Saint Agnès. It is true that there is a road - just an unsurfaced one, known as Col des Banquettes. I hadn't factored in riding on gravelly roads, particularly as I was on a road bike. Thinking that this gravel would just be a momentary thing, I ploughed on up the road slowly, hoping that on turning the next hairpin tarmac would return. It didn't. 

So my ride became a long slog to the summit of Col de Braus, where finally my bike rolled over the welcome tarmac surface. It had only taken two hours to find it. Thank God I didn't get any punctures.  

Fast forward more than 10 years, where hopefully, today's ride would be just a straightforward formality before arriving at the main event - the Col de Turini.

Maybe because I am almost 20 years older than the time when I did my maiden visit to Col de Braus, I found this climb slightly more challenging than anticipated. Since the last time I rode along these roads I noted that the local authority had made efforts to make the area more tourist-friendly, so there were signs giving information about the area, as well as more important for me, information every km about the gradient, and the distance from the summit.

The long desolate road up in the midday sun

Although the average gradient is advertised at 6%, this can give you a false sense of security. The initial section was quite shallow, with sections of around 3 or 4%. But this would be immediately followed by sections of 8%, 10, even 12%. It's quite an irregular climb, which made it hard work. 

The saving grace was that a few (though not many) sections were under tree cover, so I was protected from the worst of the midday sun in the 30 degC heat. 

I saw many riders coming down the hill, and they gave me a wave though gave a knowing look that I was not from those parts, since no local in their right mind would go up this climb at this time of the day. Mad dog and Englishmen......!

I didn't care. I was looking forward to getting my share of these hills - even in this heat. It was too beautiful to miss out. I was overawed by this landscape that I had not seen for many years. As well as the rocky landscape there were hillside vineyards in the distance, and down below I even spotted some walkers who had stopped to bathe in the waterfall and pool. 

Every few hairpins I would stop and marvel at the convoluted roads that wound their way along the 10km, average slope of 6% and dozens of hairpins. It was definitely a day to take your time, make the most of the sights, and take lots of photos. 

View of the Redebraus Waterfall down below

On reaching the summit I was welcomed with the sight of a restaurant with a terrace. Maybe I should have stopped for a meal but I didn't. I did take more photos though. Some al fresco diners at the restaurant offered to take a photo of me. "Would you like me to take your picture, Monsieur?" The woman asked. I obliged, and as soon as I spoke the woman realised her error in getting my gender wrong, and apologised profusely. I didn't mind. It's something that often happens when out riding on my own. She said she was mighty impressed - that I had come all the way from London where there aren't roads like this, that I was riding on a blazing hot day, and that I was a woman riding alone. 

These are things that I don't really think about, but I guess it's not surprising that people assume I am a man. I rarely see foreign women riding alone when I'm abroad either, and get surprised when I see them!

Onwards, and I was faced with a 10km descent towards Sospel. Just as there were various steep ramps on the way up to the summit, I dealt with the equivalent on the way down. So the various tight steep bends required caution and concentration as I took quick glimpses of the surrounding landscape. This other side of the mountain was less leafy than on my upward route, and had areas that were quite deserted. It wasn't the place to get into difficulty as there really wasn't a soul around - not even a cyclist or a car driving up or down. Near the bottom, around the village of Saint Philippe, there were a few signs of life and more houses came into view. This road had also now become the Col Saint-Jean, which threw me down to an abrupt stop at a T-junction onto the main road to Sospel. Rather than turn right into this Alpine town I chose to continue with my plan to ride up Col de Turini, so took the left-hand turn ready to face 24km up to the next summit at 1607m. One thing about this ride is you very quickly learn to like hairpins. You need to, for there would be a lot more to come!

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Women's Tour de France 2020

Well, it wasn't an official race, but a group of intrepid women, Donnons des Elles au Vélo managed to ride the entire route of the 2020 Tour de France. Given the current coronavirus times we are living in, that is no mean feat. 

Photo: Marie Istil photos

Originally they should have been riding the Tour one day ahead of the professionals (J-1), who were scheduled to start on 29th June. However, everything was pushed back with the professionals starting on 29th August, and the women doing their ride exactly one month ahead of the professionals (M-1).

It hadn't been sure whether or not they would start, and some wondered if it would be a good idea, given the risks.

But in the end the women went ahead and rode all of the routes without too much of a hitch. I kept in touch with them regularly, and wrote about their journey in a feature for Cycling Weekly.

I must say that even though I wasn't riding the event, I found following them to be quite a full on thing as they rattled through the stages and then had to go on-line to watch their Facebook live broadcasts, then phone up one of the women, transcribe the interview, gather data on the ride and put it together for the article. It was almost as though I was living through the ride with them, except that I didn't suffer from saddle sores, fatigue, or sleep deprivation!

The team, led by their enthusiastic captain, Claire Floret had some pretty long days. They would be up at 6am, be on the road by 7.30 to drive to the start of the stage. After meeting with the local councillors or the Mayor for a speech and photo session they would do a briefing for the many guest riders who were joining them for the day, and finally they merry band would set off around about 8.30am.

Photo: Marie Istil Photos

It was a merry band as they had in tow a support car, a van transferring their items, as well as a motorbike outrider as an escort on the road.

With the women, were a few physiotherapists, mechanics, a photographer and social media executive, as well as a Sports Director - Matthieu, Claire's partner. So they were pretty well supported. In fact the whole set-up seemed not disimilar to being in a professional team.

There were people to help them with mechanicals, with any problems like muscle cramp, have meals and refreshments ready every couple of hours. Also, on the days in the Cote d'Azur or the Pyrenees where temperatures went over 40 degC there were soigneurs ready to pass them copious amounts of water for drinking but also to shower them down.

Their day in the saddle would finish any time between 6pm and 8pm, with one of their days in the Alps finishing after 9pm. After all that, they would still need to have a reception with light refreshments and smoozing with the local councillors and sometimes local media, before travelling to their hotel, getting showered, massaged and dining in the local restaurant. No one would be in bed before midnight, so it wasn't surprising that a few of them would get shut-eye while riding!

Photo: Marie Istil Photos

Also, all of the women had a day or other where they would have a low moment. Caroline had a day on the col de la Madeleine where she just felt like she had no energy in her legs and her saddle was really rubbing on her "lady bits". Coralie had pains in her glutes, Claire was suffering on the 20% Col de la Loze and all the effects of the fatigue caught up with her. Bettina suffered on the climb to Grand Colombier, and at one point had even asked Mathieu if someone else could take her place.

But the beauty of this sort of group, when it works is that everyone got on and they were able to encourage each other through those difficult moments.

It was very important for the group to get along as they were really in a tight coronavirus "bubble" together. They were sharing rooms - sometimes three to a room, even two to a bed. They would eat all meals together, ride together, suffer together and triumph together - whether it was hard climbs such as the 20% col de Marie Blanque, the wind and rain in the Massif Central, or the rousing welcome the women were given at the ski resort of Orcières-Merlette.

So on their arrival in Paris it was just such a massive relief and joy to have finally made it, at a time when many sports events had been cancelled due to coronavirus.

I had actually booked to join them on the stage to ride up La Planche des Belles Filles, and to also ride the final stage from Mantes-La-Jolie into Paris, but UK government rules on quarantine meant that I couldn't travel to France. 

Photo: Marie Istil Photos

I have a lot of admiration for this group of women, and I feel inspired to go out and have a go as well. You can have a go at this ride by applying to be part of the Donnons des Elles au Vélo team. Applications open in October. Alternatively, you can guest ride with the group on selected stages. To find out more about the women's 2020 ride check out the Donnons des Elles au Vélo website. Also, 

Chapeau ladies!

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Lets hear it for the women's Tour de France - by Donnons des Elles au Velo!

In exactly a month's time the Tour de France professional race will start, from the sunny town of Nice. Today, a group of around 13 women complete with support staff and team bus will set off from exactly the same place to do the same route of the Tour de France. This is the sixth year that the Donnons des Elles au Velo group are doing this challenge. Normally the stages are ridden one day ahead of the professionals, with the ride being known as J-1. However, with the issues around Covid-19 pandemic the ride is taking place one month ahead of the Amaury Sports Organisation race, and is known as M-1.

This crew of women will be tackling the route of this year's Tour de France

So the women have ahead of them around 3,500km of riding to do all around France over the next three weeks. Their ride is a way of showing solidarity to women's cycling, and is also part of the campaign for there to be a women's Tour de France.  

A women's Tour de France took place between 1984 and 1989, where the likes of Jeannie Longo, Maria Canins, Connie Carpenter-Phinney, and Mandy Jones competed. The race happened at the same time as the men's event, with them racing stages over the last 60km of the men's stage ahead of their arrival. They didn't race all 21 stages, as only selected stages were included in the women's race. Also the women were not professional racers, so many were not sponsored and did the racing more as a hobby. When I recently interviewed Maria Canins and Jeannie Longo for an article I wrote for Rouleur magazine they both had fond memories of that era.

After the women's Tour de France ended it was replaced by a 10-day women's stage race around France, given different names - notably La Grande Boucle Feminine. However, those races were no longer part of Amaury Sports Organisation, and given that these races took place at a separate time of the year from the professional Tour de France race, women's racing happened largely under the radar.

So Donnons des Elles au Velo, by doing this M-1 ride are joining the chorus of people from different corners who would like to see a women's Tour de France be restored. At the moment, there is a one-day race, La Course. This year that will take place on the first day of the Tour de France, in Nice. However, many feel that having a stage race would be a more positive way for ASO to show its commitment to women's professional racing.

So, here we are in Nice with a group of motivated women about to ride their Tour de France feminin. It hasn't been an easy ride for them.

The route: 21 stages; 3443km; 6000m of climbing - a bit more than doing Surrey Hills!

Bear in mind that France went into lockdown for two months and they lived through a proper lockdown. People were only allowed to go out for one hour per day, and couldn't be more than 1km from their home. So that didn't bode well when trying to get in training rides.

A lot of rides were done on Zwift, plus a lot of Crossfit, virtual body toning classes, and a little bit of running. But admittedly, none of this can really replicate the 6,000km+ that people do as part of their preparation.

Furthermore, some were directly affected by the Covid-19 crisis as they were working on the front-line; or they even suffered from coronavirus themselves. Claire, the team leader lost her sense of taste and smell and experienced psychological effects from the disease too.

One of the team members, Caroline who lives in London managed to make the trip across to Nice, but her bike had still not arrived in France the day before the race! 

But despite all the various impediments and measures in place, the women finally made it to the start line, all rearing to go.

I will be following the fortunes of Donnons des Elles au Velo as the wend their way around France. I too, would like to see a women's Tour de France - though the form it would take would need to be carefully considered. My main motivation for following this M-1 ride is my interest in seeing how this group of women are able to inspire people through taking on such an onerous challenge against the inherent obstacles of a 3-week stage race plus the additional issues that we have today. 

The women come from all parts of France, and beyond, including the UK

You can follow the women's progress on their Facebook page. On their website you can find out more about them and sign up for free to ride individual stages with them. I will also be catching up with them to hear how they are getting on.

Photo Credits: Mickael Gagne and Marie Istil

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