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 

Another cycling mission for 2024 - Fred Whitton Challenge

I have been successful in the ballot to take part in the 2024 Fred Whitton Challenge. My mission is to cycle 174km (112 miles) around the Lake District, taking in the mighty Honister, Hardknott and Wrynose Passes. It's gonna be a tough day out, but I say bring it on - sort of!

In my opinion this is the mother of all cyclosportives. There may be other challenge rides in the UK that are longer or hillier than the Fred Whitton Challenge, but what really bites about this event is that moment when you pass through Eskdale Green, with its quaint country pub, after 98miles of cycling and you look up high into the distance to see a long line of riders snaking skywards. That's the Hardknott Pass, with its infamous 30% gradients along the one-mile stretch - and that's where you're headed. You have a feeling of dread and your legs go even weaker than they were already feeling from riding over Kirkstone, Honister, Whinlatter, and Newlands Passes. How on earth will I get over that and the 25% gradient of Wrynose Pass straight afterwards?

Few sportives instil that feeling of dread. I have ridden the Fred Whitton Challenge in the past and gotten around it within the time cut (although once I didn't). I therefore know that I have it in me to complete the ride, and I also remember the feeling of elation as I crossed the finish line. So I really want to have that moment again. 

It will be less easy now than when I last did the full monty almost 15 years ago. By the time D-Day comes round I will be 55 years old. Age definitely has caught up with me. While I am still capable of doing lots of sport, I find that I need more recovery time, and am more prone to soft tissue injuries than when I was younger. So as well as the main job of training, there is the added dimension of monitoring energy levels and preventing injury.

Getting a place in one of the UK's toughest one-day cyclosportives is not easy. The ballot opens in early December and roughly 10 days later the draw is done to see who are the lucky (or some might say unlucky) 2,000 riders to suffer the steepest hills of the Lake District.

Hardknott Pass 

I had been in two minds about throwing my name into the hat. Having gotten a place in the Fred Whitton last year, I remember how tough it was to train for the event, how many miles I needed to get in as well as how much cycling uphill. When the big day came I didn't feel entirely ready, and in the end opted to ride the shorter version - the Lion and Lamb ride. I must say I felt quite relieved to have not had to do the ride feeling anxious about riding the most challenging climbs. I enjoyed being able to have my post-ride pasta in a room full of other riders and chat to people. Had I done the full distance it would have just been a survival ride to beat the cut-off and I am sure I would have been one of the last finishers, probably munching my post-race meal in an almost empty buffet tent as the organisers packed everything away. That's not what I wanted. Having said that, I also feel a sense of FOMO (fear of missing out) at the fact that I only did 73 miles.

So I entered the ballot in the hope of having the chance to sort out this unfinished business. Many people enter this ballot multiple times without ever having their name drawn out of the hat. So I feel lucky to have gotten a place in the Fred Whitton Challenge. But now, I have to go out train properly, and ride the thing.

Training has already started, given that I also have the Etape du Tour to also prepare for. My 2024 calendar is already looking rather busy.

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

Tackling Fred Whitton light (aka Lion and Lamb Challenge)

I have received an email reminding me that entries for the 2023 Fred Whitton Challenge through the Lake District will open on 1st December 2022. So in the next few weeks I must decide if  I want to put myself through the 175km cyclosportive over the lakeland hills next May. It's a beautiful part of the world, where I had the pleasure of doing two cycling trips this year, one of them to do the sportive.

Route map for Fred Whitton Challenge

In fact, I ended up not doing the full Monty and opted for the more clement, but nevertheless challenging Lion and Lamb route (yellow line on the route map). Here's what I remember of it. 

When the time came for me to do the event the event I was full of doubt and not really feeling confident that I could go the distance. I had done a fair bit of mileage - around 600km per month, but I hadn't done any practice events or pushed myself in any way. Time had not been on my side.

I had come very close to pulling out of the event. However, when I saw on the cyclosportive race pack that there was a shorter option I immediately decided I would go. The shorter route is known as the Lion and Lamb. Basically you ride the route of Fred Whitton, taking in Kirkstone Pass, Honister Pass and Newlands. Then when you reach the village of Braithwaite, instead of turning left to go up Whinlatter Pass you turn right and head back to Keswick. Then from there you take the direct A591 road back to Grasmere. 

The route is so called because the rocks along the side of the road, known as Helm Crag resemble a Lion and Lamb, though I must say I fail to see the resemblance! 

When I arrived in Grasmere on the eve of the ride to pick up my race pack, it was only then that I became aware of the magnitude of the event. The field around the race HQ had been turned into a massive car park as folks arrived from all over the UK to take part. There were stands selling bike equipment, clothing and nutrition, as well as a MacMillan Cancer stand, to which funds from the event would go. [Note, Fred Whitton was a member of the Lakes Road Club, who died in 1998 aged 50.]

Overall, there was a buzzing atmosphere and it was all-go in Grasmere. I managed to get in a little ride around the roads near where I was staying in Bowness-on-Windermere, though not on the actual roads of the route. But the fact that I had ridden on the main climbs a month earlier gave me the confidence to take on the challenge, even if I wasn't going to be quick.

Come the following morning, I was feeling fairly languid about the ride. Although I woke up very early - around 5.30am - I didn't want to rush myself. The importance for me, was about going out and enjoying a ride around the Lake District without getting stressed about making the cut-off. If I reached Bu by the cut-off at midday, then I would continue on to the long course. But knowing that I had the Lion and Lamb ride to fall back on (which was doable), I felt quite relaxed about things.

Summit of Kirkstone Pass

On the drive from my lodgings to the event HQ lots of riders passed in the opposite direction, ready to square up to the first difficulty of the day - Kirkstone Pass. All the riders looked lean and mean, riding in various small groups. This was quite the different from the figure I would be cutting. Yes, I was feeling fit, but far from being the finely tuned racer. I had no plan to ride in any group, and I would be carrying my trusty rucksack - hardly kitted out for a race-pace ride. As a result of my leisurely attitude it was almost 7.45am when I took the start line, and only minutes before the deadline for starting the ride. [Riders are allowed to start the Fred Whitton Sportive at any time of their choice between 6am and 8am.]

It was a largely solitary ride as I wound my way along the A591 back towards Windermere. Apart from a couple of groups of riders I hardly saw anyone else. Well, at least I could ride at a pace that was comfortable for me, and I wouldn't feel under pressure to force my pace.

On this early crisp and sunny Sunday morning I wasn't in a mood to remove my jacket and kept on all my layers. Once in the Windermere area I hit Kirkstone Pass via Holbeck. My experience of this climb had been via The Struggle - a 25% beast from the centre of Ambleside. As Holbeck was not such an infamous climb as the ramp from Ambleside, I hadn't expected it to be too difficult. However, I was wrong. Perhaps it was the time of morning, and maybe not being fully warmed up, it was deceptively testing. The bumpy rutted road surface didn't help matters either, as I had to expend extra energy to roll my bike up this heavy narrow road, closed in by woodland and farmhouses. At that moment I began to wonder not just if I could make the midday cut-off at Buttermere, but if I would finish the short ride before they closed the event at 6.30pm!

Just when I was wondering why the hell I'd let myself into this undertaking, my view opened up and I got sight of the familiar countryside that I had seen a few weeks earlier during my Easter weekend in the Lakes. Then the Kirkstone Inn came into view and that was reassuring too.

At the summit, knowing that a long descent lay ahead, I stopped to put on my jacket and grab a quick snack. What was also reassuring was the sight of other riders at the summit. As I moved off, they stayed where they were to sort out a mechanical, while another guy appeared to be just having a morning coffee. So at least I knew I wouldn't be last.

Whizzing down Kirkstone was a real joy, though it wasn't the time to become too complacent as the descent still required skill on a few technical bends. 

A left-hand turn took me into Matterdale where the scenery was stunning. That would be a recurring theme throughout my day. It was desolate but in a peverse way, still an inviting place. Given that I was in a cyclosportive this was not the time to stop for picnics or take photographs, though.

On reaching the junction with the A66, I met some volunteers who checked I was okay and warned me to be careful on the road. This is one section of the Fred Whitton Challenge route, that I am not a fan of, as it runs along a fast trunk road. Thankfully, a side section of the road was coned off, so I was sheltered from the worst of the traffic. Furthermore, it was still only mid-morning and on a Sunday the traffic wasn't heavy. Seeing the sign for Keswick was a welcome indication that I would be back on quiet roads for the rest of the ride. In this gateway town to Borrowdale, I knew exactly how to reach the road to Honister Pass without the help of the signboards or marshals, having reccied it just three weeks earlier. 

Given the time, and the fact that one of the toughest climbs would be appearing before long, I took the opportunity to stock up on fuel and take a toilet break near Derwentwater. By this time, I was all alone, having been overtaken by the other riders who'd had the mechanical at Kirkstone Pass. Maybe I should have felt concerned that there was no one else around, but in fact I felt free - free to just ride around at a pace I was comfortable with, and free to stop when I felt like it. I had food, drink, extra clothing if needed. Granted, I didn't have tent or bivouac, but if I did end up staying out so late I had money to stay in some lodgings!

Although I wasn't riding in any group, the number on my handlebars showed that I was still part of this event which is well known among all the locals. Many people who saw me ride by, applauded and cheered me on, even though I hardly looked like I was in any race. That was jolly nice of them.

Just after the village of Seatoller came one of the hardest climbs of the day - Honister Pass. It was important to remind myself that on my previous attempt I had managed to get up this 25% ramp without walking, even if I had almost pulled a wheelie in the process. If I kept that in mind, and stayed calm, I would be okay. The next half-mile became all about straining every sinew to keep the momentum moving forward especially on the hairpins, and hope that no vehicle would approach in the opposite direction along this narrow road.  

Once past the worst section of the gradient, I felt enormously relieved, though I was panting too much to have any real appreciation of this mini success. A car did emerge in the opposite direction, on the merciful 10% section. The driver kindly stopped to let me pass by as she gave me a big thumbs up while I trudged passed barely conscious.

Soon the road took me past a slate mine and then the Honister car park and tea room which marked the end of my climb and the start of the big drop down to Buttermere. By this time I'd got my breath back and was ready to celebrate my achievement, but this was no time to be complacent. I still had some way to go. 

However, it was at this point that I realised I would miss the cut off to do the full Fred Whitton Challenge, so my ride would now just be a mere 73 miles instead of 112. Furthermore, I would be deprived of the chance to ride up Hardknott and Wrynose Passes. Should I have felt disappointed? Maybe, but I wasn't! Having experienced these two beasts a few weeks earlier, and spent most of the time on foot rather than on my bike I knew that I wouldn't stand a chance of riding it during the cyclosportive, particularly as those climbs don't appear until around 95 miles into the ride! So in effect, the hardest climb of my ride was behind me, and everything from here on in would be straight forward....sort of.

The road to hell - aka Hardknott Pass - which I skipped in FW Challenge (thankfully)

Rolling down the Honister Pass is not the easiest of descents. Just as 25% uphill is tough, the same percentage downhill is no breeze. Control and good bike handling are required. I remember a woman crashing on this descent a few years ago and fracturing her skull. Er, I'd rather that didn't happen to me. So for those first couple of kilometres there was a lot of focus, as I made use of my descending skills learned (thankfully) from a few years of cyclocross. 

Nevertheless it has to be said that the area was breathtaking in more ways than one. The descent had me panting as the road snaked and sank between the stunning Buttermere and Borrowdale valleys. 

Eventually the gradient levelled off and my ride became more manageable, and this allowed me to appreciate the landscape, which was dotted with little streams, as well as sheep that looked on at me curiously. They probably wondered what this odd person was doing on their patch with a number on her bike and no peloton!

As expected, I missed the cut-off to continue on the main route, which was evidenced by the sight of organisers closing feed-station and the first-aid ambulance driving away. Good job I had my own supplies, as I tucked into another energy bar.

A couple of miles earlier a guy on a road bike had passed me and said hello. I assumed he was a participant in the cyclosportive, given the speed he passed me, and he must have had a mechanical that was now resolved. 

However, about 200m down the road I realised he was slowing down as I began to catch up with him. These moments are always a bit tricky for me. I think to myself, "If you ride so much quicker than I do, why overtake and then slow down? Then I'm going to catch you and you'll chase me down again...What's the point in that?" I'm never keen on this silly cat and mouse game. 

Initially, I began to slow myself down, in a hope that he would pick up pace again. It didn't work though, because it would be ridiculous to ride even slower than my already snail pace. Eventually I caught up with him, as he was stood admiring the beautiful Buttermere Lake.

Soon he caught me again, but rather than pass, he rode alongside me and struck up a conversation. "It's beautiful around here isn't it?" He said. It turned out that he had come across to the area from Newcastle with a friend who was taking part in the cyclosportive. He had failed to get a place during the lottery draw for the event, but came to the Lake District anyway to provide support for his team-mate. Knowing the route, he was happy enough to ride around the areas on the day and soak in the atmosphere. I'm not sure if my pootling along the course on my own provided much atmosphere!

We rode further on together, and began the climb up Newlands Pass. That was where I hoped he would leave me to my own devices, as the road became decidedly steep. Of all the climbs of the Fred Whitton, Newlands is the one I know the least. Despite having previously done the Fred on a couple of occasions I still couldn't remember much about this pass across that crosses the valley to reach Keswick. My assumption is that if it didn't stand out in my memory of the event it can't have been that tough. However, I was wrong. When inspecting it on an Ordnance Survey map this yellow road shows double arrows, denoting it being >20%. I wasn't looking forward to that. My new found pal eventually bid me good bye as he said he was going to explore other roads. Before leaving he described the rest of the route beyond Newlands Pass and gave me tips. Nice of him, but I did already know the route. I guess, judging by the way I waddled along he thought I was a newbie. And I must say, I felt too embarrassed to say I was a little bit more experienced than that!

Climbing up Newlands Pass didn't fail to disappoint, when it came to gradients. The narrow road wound around, up and up past the Moss Force waterfalls. At one point I really felt like I was in some kind of middle Earth as the place was desolate and looked a little grey. Funnily enough, I still think it looked beautiful. 

Only a couple of cars passed by, and like other motorists - as had been the trend on this day - they tooted their horns and either gave a thumbs up or shouted "well done" at my efforts. I certainly appreciated the encouragement as this road had a very sharp hairpin with a ramp that must have been in excess of 20% - not as steep as Honister, but tough enough. It caught me quite by surprise. With my remaining energy I squeezed every muscle to propel myself forwards. Thankfully, the road levelled off and then very shortly afterwards my bike wheels began to turn faster and faster as the road gently descended, and then I was rolling at full velocity, enjoying a lovely downhill towards Braithwaite. 

Apparently this quaint village is where your morale is made or broken a marshal determines whether you have a long or a short day on the roads of the Fred Whitton Cyclosportive. A left-hand turn takes you up Whinlatter Pass, out towards Cockermouth and then down to Eskdale Green where the dreaded Hardknott-Wrynose duo await. Alternatively, you can turn right towards Keswick and then take main road straight back to Grasmere. Depending on your persuasion your moral could be up because you're doing the long challenge, but also because you are doing the short challenge and can look forward to a relaxing afternoon. 

This right-hand turn could be a source of despair and disappointment at the hands of the marshal who has the interesting job of telling you you've missed the cut-off. Otherwise, it could be a moment of relief that it's official - you are on your way to an early finish that, with any luck gives you the time to enjoy a leisurely Sunday lunch and an afternoon walk. This was definitely my attitude. In fact, I was so late that the marshal doing this job had already packed up and gone! For a fellow rider Sonia from Bolsover, who I met on the day, she definitely had a sense of  the former. The right hand turn left her and her friend very disappointed and frustrated. Unfortunately for her, she was the woman I had passed at the summit of Kirktone Pass earlier and had had to deal with a problem with her gears. She and her friend had ridden like the clappers to make it to Braithwaite, only to arrive 15 minutes too late.

Fortunately for me though, it meant that doing the short course meant that I was able to have a very pleasant lunch with her back at the HQ.

Very happy to reached the finish line - even if I "only" did 73 miles

So after the right-hand turn at Braithwaite and a very pleasant descent in the shadow of Skiddaw mountain, I was back into Keswick, which had begun to feel like a second home, given that it was the second time I was passing through there on this day, and I had also been spent time in the village just a couple of weeks earlier. The roads and buildings were very familiar and I knew exactly which way I needed to go to reach Grasmere - handy given that there were no more signs or marshals. Sadly, I had forgotten about the steep exit to reach the homeward road, and I must admit that at this point I was beginning to feel the effects of the rugged Lakeland roads. It was a tour de force to winch myself over the 12% ramp, and even after that the main A591 was an unrelenting sequence of ups and downs, not to mention a slight head wind.

This section of the Fred Whitton Challenge is not the official course, and it's not publicised on the website. It was only when I received the pre-race pack that I became aware of its existence, and as such there were hardly any other participants on this road. In any case, it didn't make much difference to me as that had been the pattern throughout my ride even on the official route!

I was confident that the final 13 miles back to the HQ would be doable and my energy levels were high enough to get me home. I was far from hitting the wall, but I must admit I was getting a little bit bored, and the constant ups, downs and twists in the road were demoralising. Some sections had slight cross winds, and it has to be said that the there were some dual carriageway sections with fast-moving traffic so it wasn't a totally relaxing ride.

And where was the famous Lion and Lamb to keep me going? Apparently, you are meant to see these shapes in the nearby hills but I couldn't see anything of that description. I can only conclude it must have been something dreamed up by someone while they were on some fun pills. Of course, I am happy to stand corrected if someone sends me the photos.

About half-way along the road a guy passed me, going at a fast pace. That was reassuring to see that it's not just the slow coaches like myself who do this route. Soon after, a woman caught up with me. "It's not very easy here is it?" She said. I agreed. At first, I thought of hanging onto her wheel so that we could do a triumphant return to the HQ together - a sisters in solidarity moment. But she was actually stronger than I was, and as the wind subsided she gained a second wind herself and dropped me. No bother. I was just happy to have seen a couple of souls along the road, albeit briefly. That was enough to reassure me that I wasn't the only cop-out cyclosportive rider in the village.

Finally, the signboard for Grasmere came into view and the crowds along the roadside thickened as locals, friends and family cheered on every rider who crossed the finish line. I had a big smile on my face and a sense of achievement that I had got through the 73 Lakeland miles without wrecking myself - denoting that I probably had been strong enough to do the full thing had I set off early.

One guy who crossed the finish line at the same time as myself did say that I looked suspiciously fresh. So I felt obliged to make my admission, to which he replied - as long as you were in pain on Honister then you did it well. Well, it was painful, so I felt I must have done a good job.

Enjoying a post-ride walk around Grasmere and Rydal Water

Regardless of the fact that I had done the short Fred Whitton ride, it had been a satisfying day out,  I had done an honest day's work in the saddle, and I think I deserved my post-ride pie and chips. Then the day was rounded off with a beautiful walk along the trails surrounding Grasmere, Rydal Water, and Rydal Caves. I know I must go back to the Lake District and do the full Fred Whitton route at some point; though not for now. Hardknott and Wrynose may have to wait a little bit longer.

Related posts

Tackling the Lake District climbs

The Struggle is real in the Lake District 

Crystal Palace hills

Back doing cycle races and cyclosportives - kind of!

After years of no cyclosportives, this year I have decided to make a comeback to organised bike events. Interestingly, the coronavirus pandemic has played a part in that. After a couple of years of limited opportunities to do races and other mass participation events I now want to make the most of the chance to take part, at least while I've got my strength and faculties. 

Finish line at the Fred Whitton Challenge

When the pandemic hit us in March 2020 and sports events were cancelled, many of we sporty types felt a massive hole in our sporting programme of activities. 

Sure we still had the freedom (unlike some other European countries) to go outdoors and train, but not having a challenge to aim for meant that something was missing. It's not as though I was a prolific racer like I had been about 15 years ago, but pre-pandemic bike racing was something I had had in the back of my mind as something I was going to restart at some point in the future. 

However, as the old adage goes "you only appreciate something when you no longer have it", and this situation spoke exactly to that scenario when all racing was put on hold. All I could do at that point was to look whimsically at the list of races that I could have done here or there, and if only I could get up to the Lake District, Wales or Surrey Hills to do a cyclosportive here, a fell race there, or even a triathlon. 

So when the big, high-profile events opened entries I decided to apply - for (in order of difficulty) Ride London, Fred Whitton, and the Etape du Tour. However, the one snag about doing cyclosportives is that you have to do them - you have to put in the miles, do the training, feel confident in your ability and get yourself to the start line. So far, I have had a better year than most in recent times in terms of getting out on my bike and doing rides. I've got up to the Lake District a couple of times, the Peak District, and of course my local hills in Surrey and Kent. Plus, 

I have also been abroad for cycling, with trips to Italy and France. What I have found though now, in my veteran years is that it's quite difficult to get out and ride when I have to juggle that with life. When trying to run a house and keep the cheques coming in, that has to take priority over going out on your bike for six hours - even at the weekend. It's quite different from when I was in my 20s and 30s and felt relatively care-free. Also, back then you could turn up at a race and "wing it". 

These days one has to pre-enter races and I generally end up racing against young'uns who are 20 or 25 years my junior, who work on their power/FTP on all kinds of new-fangled gadgets and Zwift. They get themselves coaches, and quite a few race for a semi-professional team. 

So to turn up for a race now for me, has to be a properly considered decision with various questions to ask myself. Will I be competitive? How does this balance against the pile of admin, gardening, and DIY that I have to do at home - particularly if I have to allow four or five hours to do the event, and in these economic times can I justify paying this entry fee, particularly if there's a real possibility that I will finish in last place in the race! So despite all the best intentions these are the questions that run through my mind when it comes to bike events. 

Note, that I also like doing other events - running races, swimming events, triathlons and SwimRun, which I started doing last year. So that complicates the mix further. Consequently, my bike racing hasn't gotten into a full flow. I did the Fred Whitton Cyclosportive in May this year. Not feeling fully confident in my ability, I chose their cop-out option of doing the Lamb and Lion route - after Newlands Pass you can divert back to Keswick and take the main A591 road back to the HQ at Grasmere. Easy option, my a*se! I still did 73 miles and around 2,000m of climbing, including Honister Pass at the end of the day! 

I did another cyclosportive, Ride London-Essex cyclosportive. It was considered easier than the Surrey Hills version of the event. In fact, I would say it was different but equally challenging, as the course undulated constantly instead of the previous editions which had three distinct climbs through the Surrey Hills - Newlands Corner, Leith Hill and Box Hill - interspersed on a mainly flat route. The Etape du Tour (Briançon to Alpe d'Huez) is still to come, and we'll see how that goes.

In terms of more competitive events, I did a criterium race last Friday evening at Herne Hill Velodrome. As expected I was dropped from the group of women who turned out. To be fair, it was a fairly technical course with a number of tight corners. I was happy to ride slightly slower and get around the corners in one piece, albeit in last place, rather than to stack it in front of a large captive audience! There will be some summer cyclocross events taking place on Friday nights at Herne Hill too. Hopefully, I will get across to do one of those. The journey continues, even through my advancing years!

Photo of the day - 23: Giro d'Italia breakaway to Abbiategrasso

Trezzano sul Naviglio, near Abbiategrasso 

As it's Flashback Friday I am casting my mind back to a bike ride I did along the Naviglio Grande from Milan to Abbiategrasso while on a visit to Milan two years ago. That in itself was a nostalgia ride as it reminded me of the two years I spent there between 2012 and 2013. Riding along the Naviglio Grande was a mainstay ride for me in those days, as it was my local run. I was staying close to Corsa Genova, so it was very easy to get onto the fashionable Navigli, ride past the trendy canal-side cafés and continue along the canal path (Naviglio Grande) to Abbiategrasso. This picture is actually taken at Trezzano sul Naviglio, just before Abbiategrasso. It's only about a 45 minute ride from the grand Milan metropolis, but it is pretty quiet, and has a very laid back feel close to the fields of the Milan suburbs. Interestingly, this is the place where today's stage of the Giro d'Italia began. It wasn't planned that way. The professional riders should have started in Morbegno, in the Alps and then headed into Asti (of fizzy wine fame) in Piedmont. But in typical Giro d'Italia tradition, there was a rider protest. The riders had spent yesterday racing in the freezing conditions up the Stelvio Pass, so some decided they weren't prepared to do today's 258km-stage. Instead, the teams were bussed over 130km across Lombardy to a big car park not far from where this photo was taken, and the riders raced the remaining 124.5km from there. Rider protests in the Giro d'Italia are not uncommon. They usually complain about the long transfers between stages, being made to race in difficult climatic conditions, racing over a wet slippery 25% slope like Plan di Corones, or even on the 100th anniversary edition where they were to race around Central Milan, weaving around parked cars on narrow streets! So this protest didn't surprise me - though the director, Mauro Vegni has vowed to take action against the ring leaders. I think rider protests are an Italian bike race thing. I remember in a cyclosportive  we were meant to do a cyclosportive across the Dolomites but it was bucketing down, with snow at the summits. Although the event was reduced to a race up Passo Fedaia, riders still complained that conditions would be unsafe.  On another occasion, at the Giro di Sardegna cyclosportive there was a big deal made about us doing a time trial that involved a long downhill section. After a big open debate between riders and the organiser the stage was cancelled and we did a leisurely ride along the coast instead. It's just an Italian thing, I guess.

Daily photo - 4: Reviewing a Liv Avail Advanced Pro

2020 Liv Avail Advanced Pro 1

Today I was putting together a bicycle review that I will be sending in for publishing. I've been testing out the 2020 Liv Avail Advanced Pro 1. It's a women-specific endurance bike that can be used for long rides like cyclosportives, and because it has thicker tyres on it you can use it in rides that go on rough terrain such as the White Roads Classic or the Cheshire Cobbled Classic, as well as cyclosportives abroad like Tour of Flanders and Paris-Roubaix.

The outstanding feature of the bike is also the SRAM electronic gears it has. I have ridden a bike with electronic gears in the past, though at the time they were rare among amateur bike riders. Now it seems that people have caught on to them, so it is great to see it on a women-specific bike.

Riding the bike has been pretty positive, and having something lightweight and with low gears was pretty useful for me when I used it at the Ride London 100 cyclosportive earlier this year. I am not the young whippet that I used to be, so it's great to have such equipment to help you along the way!

I look forward to seeing the full review live somewhere on the web.


11/09/2019 UPDATE: The review is now live on Cyclist website.


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Catching up with cyclists at Ride London

While at the Ride London 100 I caught up with a few cyclists taking part in the event. As the cyclosportive was 100 miles I thought it would be nice to break up my ride by speaking to a few of the women doing it, and hearing their stories.

It was good to chat to Marie-Paul, Yasmin and Ify. They were all doing 100 miles, in Ify's case for the first time. Riding this distance is naturally quite a challenge, but it can be done if you prepare by riding reguarly and including some hills. Mind you, in Yasmin's case she didn't do much training for the event, and Ify didn't do any 100-mile bike rides in her training for it.

I know that Ify finished because I saw her again at the finish line. I like to think that the other women finished.

Chatting to the participants was a nice way to break up the ride and also learn a bit about some of the different people doing the race. I must say that doing social networking during a race is not the thing to do if you're looking to ride it in a fast time! I spent a fair bit of time trying to upload, sending tweets and taking photos while doing the ride. My official time ended up being around 2 hours longer than my recorded  moving time on Garmin! Still, it was a good day out.

Marie-Paul at Hampton Court hub





Yasmin at Wescott drinks station





Ify at Box Hill




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Why I enjoy Ride London 100

Feeling satisfied after completing the Ride London 100

Just like April is London Marathon time, late July/early August is Ride London. This great weekend festival of cycling dominates central London, with people of all ages and abilities having a go at cycling. This year it took place on 3-4 August.



For me, Ride London 100 is a chance to put on my favourite cycling kit and look my best in front of home crowds for the cyclosportive. It's not often that I get to ride in front of lots of people in my local area, so I like to make the most of it.

I always relish riding these 100 miles from the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park at Stratford, through central London, Richmond Park, and doing the trio of Surrey Hills (Newlands Corner, Leith Hill, Box Hill) before returning to central London and finishing in front of Buckingham Palace.

So, as is the tradition, I wore my brightest Primal cycling kit. I also had a nice bike to ride, namely a test ride of the 2020 Liv Avail Advanced Pro 1. It came complete with disc brakes and electronic gears (SRAM eTAP AXS if anyone's asking). So I had the gear - I just had to show people I had some idea.


Ride London Wake-up call

These things are easier said than done. Firstly, although I consider myself to be a morning person, getting up for the Ride London sportive is always challenging for me. I have done this event 3 times, and the start time for my wave has generally been at around 7am. This means I have to be in my pen by 6.30am, which means a 3.45am wake-up call. Unlike going to the airport where I can sleep on the train to Gatwick, for Ride London I actually have to be alert to do the 13-mile bike ride to the Olympic Park at 4.45am.

And the wake-up call comes after I have gone to bed late on the Saturday after covering the Ride London Classique women's race for such and such a cycling publication, which includes hanging around to interview the riders for such and such a cycling publication.

This year there was a delay in doing the post-race interviews because a crash in the finish strait meant that adjudicators had to analyse footage and decide if any penalties were due. There were, and sadly for Kirsten Wild, she was relegated from first place to disqualification after having strayed from her sprinting line and causing the crash. She wasn't willing to do any interview, but I did speak to Coryn Rivera and Alice Barnes.

So with only a few hours' sleep I was faced with a 100-mile cycle ride at 7 am (or in real terms a 113-mile bike ride at 4.45 am when you include cycling to the start).

For my ride to the event I cycle through the almost empty streets for Sydenham, Catford, and Lewisham - give or take a dozen Ubers - cross the river via the Greenwich foot tunnel and then continue my cycle ride to Stratford. I never particularly research how to get there because once on the Isle of Dogs there are lots of other bike riders so I just follow the mass peloton, bleary-eyed and get carried to my start area.

All ready to go at the start line in the Olympic Park

However, this year there weren't that many people to follow, and shock horror those people weren't locals and were following Google maps.

This route ended up being quite convoluted and going through lots of alleyways and different canals. As it was a case of guess beggars couldn't be choosers, I just followed the errant peloton and hoped to get there sooner or later.

I got to my start point later - in fact quite a lot later, so I ended up starting in a completely different wave from my scheduled start. No bother! That was a blessing in disguise as it meant I didn't have to stand around for half an hour on this crisp morning. So I just had 100 miles to do, with the aim of enjoying it and not getting cramp or just getting hollow legs, like I have done on the previous occasions.


Riding with the 100 Club

I used to do quite a lot of road and track racing, so a 100-mile ride was not much of a problem for me because that top-end effort was there and could carry me through a long-distance cyclosportive. These days I only really race in winter during the cyclocross season, so the rest of the time I am doing long-ish rides, but not particularly at a hard pace. So riding 100 miles does become a bit more of an effort as my legs can testify. Unfortunately, my mind doesn't quite believe it and the last 30 miles (usually after Leith Hill) becomes a tour de force to get to the finish line.

Once we got going it was a lovely speedy ride along closed roads that we never ride on any normal day - the A12 trunk road, the Great West Road, also known as the A4. Then tunnels like the one at Limehouse, and the Hyde Park Corner underpass. Like excited kids the peloton shouted and whooped whooped as we went through these enclosed spaces.

Ride London does have a bit of a festival atmosphere with people riding different types of bikes. Naturally most people are on road bikes, but you still get folks on hybrids, mountain bikes and tandems. But then you'll get some people who challenge themselves by riding the 100 miles on a Brompton, or a recumbent bike. One guy on a hybrid had even brought his dog along and he had a lovely ride sitting there in the basket on the front of the bike. I hope the dog enjoyed speeding down Leith Hill!

Some folks rode Bromptons - I chose this!

From the start at Stratford through central London and up to the Hampton Court Palace feed station the ride was fast without making any effort at all. I easily averaged 20 mph without pushing.

In the next 25 miles the roads become narrower and slightly undulating, so it's usually the time to think about managing energy before hitting the challenging climbs. Also, as the roads narrow you have to be more alert and aware of what's going on around you.

Ride London cyclosportives seem to be run with the same spirit as the London Marathon (given that they both have the same organisers). That basically means that anyone can have a go, especially if you have a back-story around raising money for such and such a charitable cause.

The UK must be one of the few countries where you can take part in these events and the slower and fatter you are, the more people will treat you as a hero - particularly if you are raising money for cancer, a sick child, or mistreated dogs. At the London Marathon there is usually a group of people who will still be running well into the evening, after having started the "race" at 10 am, and they still receive a medal.

It's all well and good having newbies and novices in running races, but when it comes to tens of thousands of bikes, that doesn't translate in the same way. So you get people switching their line unexpectedly, being in the wrong gear on a hill and suddenly coming to a stop, or just losing control of their bikes and crashing. So, having good bike handling and being ready to take evasive action is always a good idea at this event!


The Hills are Alive

Newlands Corner, the first climb was not so bad and just lasted around a mile (1.6km) long and was 10% gradient at its steepest, so that was a little leg tester, followed by another gentle quad opener at Holmbury St Mary.

Congestion at the start of Leith Hill. We got going after the 10-minute hold-up

I made use of the feed stations and hubs and stopped at all of them - not necessarily because I needed to eat, but mainly to take photos and chat to people. I met a few different women who were riding the hundred, including one who had come all the way from Abuja, Nigeria to do the ride.

The main effort came at Leith Hill, a 2.7-mile (4.5km) climb that was around 10% on average, though there were stretches at 15% and 22%. This was where a lot of people ended up walking. Sadly, it wasn't just because the road proved too steep, but also because congestion meant that we had to walk. In fact at one point we came to a complete standstill and had to wait almost 10 minutes for the road ahead to clear.

I guess it's all part and part of doing a popular event. I seem to recall something similar happening during the Tour of Flanders cyclosportive when trying to get up the Muur at Geraadsbergen or the Koppenberg.

Eventually we were able to get moving and I managed to ride around the walkers and get up to the  beast. I guess having this climb on your doorstep to practice means that it doesn't feel too onerous on the big day.

Box Hill - everybody's favourite climb - at least in the Surrey!

For me, the test of how fit I was came down more to how well I could climb up Box Hill. This is one of the most popular climbs in the country, especially with it having been included in the cycle route of the 2012 Olympics.

As Surrey Hills go though, in fact, compared with any hill it's not really that challenging. There are a few switchbacks which give it dramatic effect, and the area is very pretty, but Alpine, it is not!

However, after a bit of climbing and speed, and tackling the climb 65 miles (105km) into the ride can be energy sapping on the legs. In previous years I have just crawled my way up the switchbacks and began to drift backwards as everybody overtook me. This time around I actually managed to ride it at my normal pace, and was even passing people. Hoorah, no cramp, no problems.

I had broken the back of the ride and was looking forward to a pacey run back to London. All I needed to do was to latch onto a good wheel and slipstream my way back through Surrey. The strategy worked as we zoomed through Leatherhead, Esher, and Surbiton.

It was a sense of achievement to still be feeling strong and enjoying my ride. I spoke too soon though, because when we reached Kingston I got unceremoniously dropped by the bunch, and ended up crawling up the short sharp hill at Coombe Lane. Things were starting to catch up with me, and I had to dig really deep for another sting in the tail at Wimbledon Hill. This is one of those hills that people don't really talk about, but it catches a lot of people out, especially as it is less than 10 miles (16km) from the finish. I was doing well just to grind up the hill. Quite a few people were walking!


Cramping my style

We were rewarded with a welcoming view of Central London and a lovely descent through Putney, before winding our way through Fulham and Chelsea to reach Parliament Square. Just as significant events take place in Parliament, that's where I suddenly got cramp in my left quad, and had to shake out my leg. It looked quite unelegant in front of the thick crowds, but I had to do just enough to be able to allow me to at least ride a strong finish in front of Buckingham Palace. I just about managed it, and that was good enough.



My Garmin recorded a time of 6 hours 15, but my official time was probably about two hours longer! With all my stoppages at the feed stations and hubs, mainly to take photos and record interviews that took up a lot of time.

It had been a good day out in the saddle, and the ride has given me the motivation to do more cyclosportives - who knows maybe even an actual road race.



As for the bike: I think I have a lot to thank for in the Liv Avail. I reckon this bike saved my bacon quite a lot. It was so light and responsive that my movement was just quicker than it would otherwise have been. Having electronic gears was also very useful as these just changed smoothly without that cronking that you sometimes get on manual gears. Having a nice bike definitely makes you want to ride more - so that's what I'll be doing.😁


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Italian cycling tales from towns on the Giro d'Italia route - 1

Stories from the places on the 2019 Giro d'Italia route. One thing I like about watching the Giro d'Italia cycle race is when the route goes through areas that I am familiar with - either places where I lived or stayed when on holiday, or places I cycled through. When I see the places on TV it always conjures up memories of the time I was there. In most cases I wish I could go back and ride in those areas - even if I am a little older and slower than I was a few years ago!

Verona (Stage 21)

Verona city entrance 

I love Verona. The first time I ever visited Italy I went to Venice. During that visit I also visited Vicenza, Lake Garda, and Verona.

All those places were pleasant and exciting, but my favourite place was Verona.

It didn't have quite as many tourists as Venice, and seemed a more manageable sized town.

There was also more space than the never ending narrow alleyways of Venice. In my opinion Verona looked prettier than Venice and didn't have a tired look about it from the gazillions of tourists, which I seem to notice in Venice.

I love the central central historic areas in Verona, and its Roman arena, where the Giro d'Italia finishes.

The time trial that the pros are doing for this final stage goes up the Toricelle road. I have never ridden up this road, but I have driven up it. Once, on a weekend away in the Veneto region I booked to stay at a B&B just outside the city centre, and it involved me driving up this climb. I hadn't realised that the road up to the B&B would be so twisty or that it even went uphill! So it was a bit of a test of my driving skills, especially as it was late at night, I wasn't that sure of where I was going and was stuck in among all the local drivers.

Verona Arena and City Hall at Piazza Bra

The B&B was very pleasant and we were treated to beautiful views of the city below, so going there was worth the effort.

The Toricelle climb was used in the World Race Championships in 1999, and is a regular time trial route for the locals. A nocturnal time trial takes place there every year around the end of August/early September. They call it a "cronoscalata" (hill climb). That must surely be one for the bucket list - well after a bit of training.


Feltre and Croce d'Aun (Stage 20)

The route from Feltre to Croce d'Aune is essentially the same course as the Gran Fondo Sportful Dolomiti, which takes place in a couple of weeks. This ride was previously known as the Gran Fondo Campagnolo, which is probably a more relevant name given that the guy who invented Campagnolo components was from Vicenza, not far from this area.

In fact he came up with the idea of the quick release wheel - something that is in most bikes nowadays - when a problem with his wheel on the Croce d'Aune during a cycle race in 1927, cost him the win.

I have done quite a few cyclosportives in Italy, but I have never done this one. A few years ago, we used to say that that the Gran Fondo Campagnolo (now the Gran Fondo Sportful Dolomiti) was one to avoid because the weather was always bad. The Maratona dles Dolomiti and Gran Fondo Pinarello which happen in early July both take place on very warm days. But at the Feltre event, the rain always showed up on the day, occasionally with the route having to be cut short.

So I tended to steer clear of it. Looking at recent photos of the race, it seems that the weather tends to be okay nowadays. So maybe it is time for me to consider riding it.

Treviso to San Martino di Castrozza (Stage 19)

I know Treviso from the time when I rode the Gran Fondo Pinarello - another cyclosportive that takes place at the home of the eponymous family-owned bike manufacturers.

Start line of Gran Fondo Pinarello with Yvette from Pinarello

It was more than 10 years ago when I rode it, so the route is a little different nowadays. The day I rode it, in July the weather was blisteringly hot and I rode the 200km route. We rode up Passo di San Boldo, which features in this stage.

Our route was from a slightly different side as we climbed for about 5 miles and then went over unmade roads before eventually threading in and out of a series of tunnels. The views below were spectacular. The San Boldo climb was the appetiser for a longer more arduous climb, not to San Martino di Castrozza, but to a ski area called Nevegal, which was again on unmade roads. It was a bit like doing Eroica!

Once there we turned around to do the run back in to Treviso, and passed over the Volpago di Montello, which was only about 2km long, but the gradient went to 12% - so something akin to the steep climbs I ride in the Kent or Surrey Hills. So I felt at home!

Montello climb in Gran Fondo Pinarello

During the Pinarello cyclosportive guys kept giving me tips and offering assistance to improve my ride. Some would tell me to just follow the wheel and save energy, while others would just automatically offer their wheel for me to draft off.

A bit like the equivalent of a gentleman holding a door open for a woman, when biking in these parts, guys would offer women their wheel and allow them to draft. It's not something you'd ever see in a UK cyclosportive.

In the last 20 miles of the Pinarello cyclosportive a group of local Italian guys came by and got me to ride in the group with them. They did a chain gang and told me I didn't need to take a turn on the front, so I basically got towed to within about 400m of the finish, and then they dropped back and allowed me to come through and sprint for the line! It made me feel quite important - even if I ended up finishing in 4,347th place out of 7,000 riders!


Valdaora to Santa Maria di Sala (Stage 18)

I have been to this part of Italy in the past - not for cycling, but to ski, and on one occasion for hiking. I wasn't in Valdaora but I was in nearby Dobbiaco. Although the area is part of Italy, it has a distinctly Austrian look and feel about it, and people automatically speak to you in German. Some people there don't know any Italian!

Cross country skiing around Dobbiaco

I went on a trip with Exodus Adventure Company to learn cross country skiing some years ago, so we were based in Dobbiaco (or Toblach, the German name). I had been enjoying the skiing, but deep down I felt that there was something not right about not being able to do a long downhill. Cross country skiing is hard work.

The trip took place in December, when the temperature was about minus 15 degrees C. So in those temperatures I put on about four layers under my jacket. However, within about 15 minutes of starting to ski I had to remove layers. It got to the point where I just stripped down to my cycling jersey and arm warmers. Anything more, and I was overdressed!

Cross country skiing is not that type of skiing where you can look cool as you drop down a hill at speed and then lounge around over a mulled wine enjoying the views at altitude. It's just rough and ready and you go hard at it uphill, on the flat, and even downhill! You burn more calories than cycling or running and in my case I end up a sweaty mess.

Cortina d'Ampezzo

So when I'd had my fill of working hard in the snow I left the group and caught a bus to get over to Cortina d'Ampezzo (where the riders passed through during this stage) to enjoy a bit of the gravity-assisted stuff - proper skiing.

I may have been a bit lacking in the style department, especially by Cortina's high standards, but the folks seemed to let me off!

I do hope to go to that area with my bike, and will go through Cortina, plus nearby Passo Falzarego, a well-known climb in that area which was not covered in this year's Giro (but has been included in the past).


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My Cycling Year So Far - Tour of Flanders

Belgium Bound

Cyclist central at Oudenaarde

Another high point of my year so far has been my trip to ride the cobbles of the Tour of Flanders. It had been a few years since I last cycled this event. The last time I rode this Spring Classic was in 2007, and had a great time there. I hadn't intended to to leave it this long before going back again.

Since the time when I last rode it, they had moved the start and finish from Ninove to Oudenaarde, and they had reintegrated Koppenberg, which had been removed from the course for refurbishments.

Apart from that, the atmosphere, fanfare and zeal of all the racers was just as present as ever.

Away from industrial Asse and now in Denderleeuw

I travelled to Flanders by Eurostar to Brussels and then cycled from there to Oudenaarde. The route I took was nothing to write home about, as it passed through some industrial areas around Anderlecht and Asse.

It was only after Denderleeuw that the landscape began to look like the pretty Flandrian scenes that we see on television. I guess when you do these types of rides you get to see places as they are - warts and all.


Word on the street - cycling on Belgian roads

The road conditions were okay. Getting out of Brussels was easy enough. Even though there were bike lanes I still needed to be careful as vehicles would still park in the bike lanes. Some of the bike lanes were so narrow that on occasions you were riding in the gutter, so it was better to ride further out from the kerb, in the flow of the traffic and on a decent road surface. You also need to be careful of crossing side roads, and make sure that cars aren't turning across your path.

In short, riding through Brussels was not bad, but it was not this cycling paradise that people claim is so much nicer than riding along streets the UK. People can be too quick to say that cycling in Europe is better than cycling in the UK. My experience is that in all countries you get good bits and not so good bits. You get good drivers and careless drivers everywhere.

Once into the Flandrian countryside I was on trunk roads that had cycle lanes which was great, though bear in mind that on many side roads that were not trunk roads there are no cycle lanes, the roads are not especially wide, so the conditions are no different from riding on a minor road in the UK.


Riding up Koppenberg

Some local riders at Koppenberg

After a pleasant 40 miles I arrived at my lodgings which were just outside Oudenaarde, and around the corner, literally from Koppenberg. That area was quite busy as lots of folks were practicing it ahead of the cyclosportive and before the crowds arrive. It was a good opportunity to chat to various folks - who seemed to have come from everywhere. Of course there were people from the local area, but there were folks from the UK, France, Germany, Italy, even a group from South Africa.

Saturday was the big day, at least for we amateurs, so I rode the three miles from my bed & breakfast to reach central Oudenaarde, from where I began my ride.

As I was a little late getting up, and I knew I would  need to be back in time to see the professional women's team presentations, I decided to do the 74km option. That wasn't an easy ride though, because it still included around 14 bergs. The tough challenges of Paterberg, Oude Kwaremont, and Koppenberg were included, with the latter being tackled barely 10km into the ride.

Koppenberg didn't fail to disappoint, It was a 15-20% gradient, with cobbles everywhere, and crowds of other riders. Being on my cross bike meant that I felt more comfortable in my riding position, and the tyres offered that bit more cushioning - quite important for my 50-year old bones!

For me, it was just important to keep a good core stability, stay relaxed, hold my line, and be ready to shout "on your left/on your right" very assertively.

The tactic almost worked, but then a woman in front of me, who seemed to be riding well, fell over. She was Italian and her cycling buddy had been shouting words of encouragement to her [Dai, dai] and she seemed to be feeding off that, but then suddenly, bang! She hit the deck, and I had no where to go, so had to dismount quickly.



That was a bit annoying as I was near the top, and thought I had conquered the beast. In my bloody mindedness I walked back to almost the bottom of the climb and decided to attempt it again. The area was quite thick with riders and spectators, and a few people offered to give me a push as I remounted my bike. Then they all shouted Allez, Allez as I strained to get up the climb for a second time, through gritted teeth. This time I did it, and felt like I had won the Tour of Flanders!


Feeling old after Oude Kwaremont and Paterberg

This gave me the confidence to cope with the other bergs to come. Our route didn't include Geraadsbergen or Kapelmuur/Mur de Gramont, but we had enough to be getting on with. Oude Kwaremont was not so steep, but it went on for a long time, and the cobbles seemed sharper and disordered compared with other bergs, so it was a bumpier ride. It was definitely the area to be though, as a spectator as there was loads of pumping music, and a massive beer tent of the same name, and loads of people who seemed to already be on the way to getting drunk.

A word of warning - the descent from Kwaremont is lovely and fast, but then you round the right-hand corner and you are met with this steep cobbled uphill. That was Paterberg. I could have stayed on the bike, and quickly tried to find my low gear, on the hill, but I didn't have the legs to cope with the change of gear. So I just dismounted and manually changed gear in order to comfortably tackle the ascent. Once again, it was a case of being mindful of the folks who were dismounting on the hill once they ran out of gears, as well as those who chose to walk in the middle of the road. This climb felt as steep as Koppenberg, but was not long. However, I still felt quite tired after the previous exertions, so it was harder work for me.

Feeling happy after riding Paterberg (and Oude Kwarement too)

It was a relief to have been able to do those tough three bergs, as well as the other ones. I just had to put my head down and hurry back over the remaining 15 or so miles to get to the finish line. My lack of fitness began to show, and I felt quite tired. A few people past me, and I wanted to jump on their wheels, but I didn't have the strength to hold their wheels. So I just rode back at my own pace.

It was just great to see the finish line, knowing that I still had the ability to ride even the tough bergs.

A good day out in Flanders

Flanders is a great place to be when the bike races are on. At the lovely place where I stayed, Enjoy B&B Today, there was a group of Irish guys, and some Italians from Turin as well. Around Oudenaarde and the surrounding area there were also lots of people from the UK, and I recognised jerseys from local clubs like Kingston Wheelers and Dulwich Paragon. There was a large contingent from my club, Penge CC, though I travelled separately from them. It was good to bump into Dougie Fox and other riders from Crawley Wheelers. I don't get to talk to them much when I'm in London - so it was just ironic that it took a cycling event abroad to get us to sit down and have a chat with them over a beer! But that's what the Tour of Flanders does.

Feed station at Ronse, where you bump into people you know

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