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As some of you know, I signed up at the end of last year to do the Tour de Force, a charity staging of the full Tour de France route, starting and finishing 1 week ahead of the professionals, and matching them stage for stage, climb for climb. At the time I wasn’t really sure what I’d let myself in for, but I finished the route in Paris yesterday, July 14th, and I think I can honestly say that it was possibly the most extraordinary experience I’ve ever had on a bike – a combination of the best days and worst days I think I can remember, with enough memories to last a lifetime.

The ride was organised to benefit the William Wates Memorial Trust, and has been running for a few years now – this year, there were 40 riders doing the full route (known as lifers), and some 100 extra riders dipping in and out for various stages ranging from 2 to 10 days, covering windows across the entire 3 weeks. The organisation was impeccable, the riding brilliant and the company a complete laugh – what follows is some sort of attempt to distill three weeks of cycling into a relatively digestible story that people might get a picture from…

Arrival
Fly into Corsica from Gatwick via Marseilles, feeling apprehensive and more than a little daunted about what’s about to happen. Meet at the hotel in the afternoon, get my allocated room (with mate, Gareth), have a quick beer and then get together for the intro briefing. Learn that dinner will be at 8pm each night, stages will generally start at 7:30am, there will usually be 3 or 4 feedstops, including lunch, and that people can cycle the thing at their own pace – we are encouraged to take enough time to hydrate and get enough food into us, and are informed that no-one can leave the first feed stop on any stage without everyone first arriving. Go and have dinner, start getting to know people, collect bikes and then go to bed, ready for stage 1. We are also introduced to the Rocket and Chapeau awards – the Rocket, to be awarded by the previous recipient for crimes against cycling, and the Chapeau for exemplary behaviour.

Stage 1
Flat and fast. If the pace stays like this for any more than a couple of days, I’ll not finish the first week, let alone the whole thing. 213km in pretty hot conditions, everything is running happily until I puncture after the first feed stop… Everyone passes Gareth and I, until Phil Deeker, Road Captain and bringing up the rear for the day pulls up and gives us a quick hand. 30km of fairly gut-wrenching time-trialling to get back on follows, until I puncture again and let out a stream of profanity that is so rapid-fire, varied and offensive that Gareth nearly falls off his bike with laughter, Phil offers condolences with a wry grin and Paul, another rider we picked up, doesn’t quite know where to look or what to do. Fix the puncture again, and roll into the second feed well and truly at the back of the pack, then continue TT’ing to lunch where we finally catch everyone. Continue the stage, reaching Bastia late afternoon just in time for a quick rest, a comedy hissy-fit about the size and state of our room, and then dinner on the waterfront. The stage 2 briefing that night introduces Phil’s stage award, a laminated stage profile, map and arrow from the day’s stage – I’ve obviously pulled the sympathy vote, as he gives it to me for a “nice ride” in challenging circumstances, as he so eloquently puts it. Go to bed feeling tired and worried about how I’ll recover for the first lumpy stage the following day…

Stage 2
Fast but not so flat. The three climbs in the middle of the stage are perhaps bigger than the stuff that I rode in Mallorca in March, and it’s certainly hotter. The fast boys are out to test their legs, and again, I worry about the pace that is being set. Descending off the third climb is a laugh, long sweeping corners allowing fast and relatively safe descending, but the cat 3 climb outside Ajaccio is a slap in the face – less than 100 metres, but steep in places, and oppressively hot. Again I come in mid-afternoon, and am surprised to see that there are quite a few people yet to come in… Time trialling with Rob and Jamie into Ajaccio obviously helped us along.

Stage 3
Corsica in all its beauty. The coastal road that winds up the western part of the island, carved into the cliffs in some areas, is so evocative of Australia (gum trees everywhere) that I feel homesick for the first time in years. Fantastically exciting descending, including one slightly overcooked corner, and a final climb outside Calvi that is significantly harder than what appears on paper… It later turns out that one of the guys doing only the first 3 stages has come off on this descent, suffering a bit of road rash, a cracked helmet and a fairly badly damaged bike. An overnight ferry transfer to Nice awaits, and despite a small booking hiccup, we’re all soon on board, eating dinner and then heading to our cabins for sleep.

Stage 4
The team time-trial is a bit of a non-event – the Promenade des Anglais has a 20kmh speed limit, and is very busy with locals and tourists, even though it’s 8am and we’ve only just gotten off the ferry. We head out as a group of approximately 80 cyclists, having shed the Corsica-only riders, and follow part of the TTT course as well as incorporating a bit of a climb and extra route to get to our hotel. There is some grumbling about it being like a bit of a CTC introductory ride, but it’s nice to actually have a moderate little pootle around a bit of nice. The afternoon off allows us to do some laundry, do a bit of shopping for supplies (juice and muesli bars), get my saddle sores inspected by one of the doctors (turns out I’m being a bit of a hypochondriac), and then settle in for a pre-dinner beer, followed by a buffet on the beach front. This being our last opportunity for a meal in a coastal setting, the buffet appears to be a bit of a treat – the resultant melee is barely controlled by marshalling the group’s access to food table by table, but the sight of plates stacked with carbs and protein is enough to remind many of the stage 2 climbs we left back on Corsica a couple of days ago… Briefing mentions that we have 4 climbs in tomorrow’s stage, and that it’s long – 228 km.

Stage 5
In an attempt to further the Entente Cordiale, we are joined by representatives of the Lorgues Cycling Club. One of the mechanics lives in Lorgues, and he has convinced his local club members to come to Nice and join us for the ride into their town, where the tour route has an intermediate sprint. Lunch will be provided by the wives of the good burghers of Lorgues, and in the briefing the night before we are encouraged to be as friendly and as chatty as we can possibly be – admittedly a little difficult when few of either side speak the other’s language, but it turns out the language of cycling is fairly universal, if combined with appropriately clear gestures. It also appears that the ability of cyclists to shirk their work sharing duties knows no borders, as Paul discovers to his mild frustration when he finds a Lorgues Cyclo member happily sitting in his slipstream, with any attempt to get him to do a turn on the front being met with a typically gallic shrug or straight-out avoidance of eye contact – it’s a long 100km. Lunch in Lorgues is delicious, a brief speech from the president of Lorgues Cyclos is translated, and then we continue on to Marseilles. For most of today I haven’t really cycled with anyone that I know, and after lunch I bite the bullet and decide to do the rest of the stage by myself – I could use the quiet time, and happily lose myself in thought for the rest of the ride, until the top of the descent into Marseilles… another brilliant, fast, sweeping descent that has me whooping for joy, until Sylvain and I get lost on the way through town trying to find the hotel, and have to backtrack to find the arrows directing us to the hotel… We were warned about “arrow blindness” in our first briefing, seems I’ve just discovered what it is. The remaining Lorgues Cyclos have dinner with us, there’s some mutual appreciation and kind words, and then, the usual ritual – briefing, awards and bed. After resisting for a while, I also get my first massage, and decide that it has to be a necessity from now on. I also decide that the protective qualities of chamois cream also make it a necessity – never really used it before, but boy am I glad of it now. I am also ashamed to admit that, due to extreme hunger, I am forced to eat McDonald’s for the first time in 20 years.

Stage 6
Our first transfer – up earlier than usual, stuff breakfast down, get on a coach and travel for the start of the stage at Aix en Provence – all before 7:30 am, which means a 5am rise. A flat stage that still encompasses 1000m of climbing, not a lot happens – I manage to get in with the fast boys today, and end up doing the 164km in pretty short time, arriving in Montpelier in time to chill out before dinner and have a think about the coming days – the Pyrenees loom large…

Stage 7
Montpelier to Albi, 205km. Cat 3, Cat 2, Cat 3, Cat 4. Probably the most serious day of climbing yet, when combined with the distance, and our first taste of slightly suspect weather as well. Regardless, the riding is good, and while I get dropped on the last climb I try my fastest descending (which admittedly isn’t that fast, but is getting better) to catch the two riders that left me in their wake… Which I do, streaming past them on the outskirts of Albi. Another quick bout of laundry, dinner and news of the following day’s festivities – transfer to Castres, then climb to Ax 3 Domaines.

Stage 8
193km, with nothing to worry about for the first 130km… The stage meanders south, and as we travel along we catch our first sight of the Pyrenees, and the lone rider that will shadow us for the rest of the tour – supported only by his wife, we later learn that he is solo riding all three grand tours this year in aid of charity. And I thought we were doing it tough. Arrive at Quillan after a gentle climb up the foothills of the Pyrenees, then press on to Axat after lunch… Stop at a cafe in Axat, have a coffee, a coke, and then fill both bidons with coke… Press on up to the Col de Pailheres, the first HC climb of the tour at 2001 metres… get through the climb, descend, nearly crash due to grooves gouged into the road that resemble tram lines, keep descending to the fourth feedstop by a lake… Continue descending to Ax les Thermes, and then climb the Cat 1 Ax 3 Domaines… Be passed by 3 Scots on the way up, beat them in the sprint to the finish line, and then descend back to Ax les Thermes for the usual post-ride massage, dinner, awards, etc. Gareth receives Phil’s award for best ride of the day, Phil coins the best phrase of the day by describing Luke’s legs as “Matchsticks in Motion”… Feel good about completing the stage, not too apprehensive about tomorrow’s climbs, and start to feel like the tour could actually be doable… Hear about the Orica bus getting stuck at the finish line in Corsica as the real cyclists follow in our footsteps… What we’re doing now seems really real.

Sean2
Stage 9
The biggest stage so far. Only 160km, but cat 2, cat 1, cat 1, cat 1 and cat 1 climbs in the first 138 km… by the end of the day the garmin reports total climbing as 4182, and while I’ve climbed the first 3 cols in the past, and hence feel pretty relaxed about them, the heat and the subsequent 2 additional climbs add up to a very difficult day, especially on the back of the previous day’s HC and cat 1 cols… add to that a transfer and hence an early start, not to mention that it’s been 9 days on the bike with the only real rest being the Nice time trial, and it’s fair to say that it’s a fairly long day at a sloooooow average pace (21 km/h)… The climbing is spectacular, though, as are the views, and as we reach the fifth summit everyone is congratulating everyone else, it’s bromance and man-hugs all round, as we’ve finished the first bout of really serious riding successfully, and everyone can get through to the transfer up to the Vendee the following day. At dinner that night, however, we learn that 5 people have come down during the day – a couple of short stagers managed to get entangled on the slopes of the Portet d’Aspet, Steve and Peggy crashed on the Col de Mente (Peggy sustaining a concussion), and most bitterly of all, Shean, who has worked hard through all of the previous stages to get his stocky frame up every climb, was descending from the last climb only to be taken out by a car reversing out of a driveway without looking. His collarbone is broken, and his tour over.

Sean3

Rest day 1
An 8 hour coach journey from the Pyrenees to the Vendee region. Everyone sleeps.

Stage 10
186km up to St Malo. A boring, flat stage that is labelled by Phil as a recovery ride… but with 1800 metres of climbing… The scale of the Tour now becomes apparent when compared to what we’ve been doing in the UK – when before could a ride like this ever seriously be called a recovery ride? The scenery, however, is wonderful, but the boredom starts doing strange things with people… The first indication of this is when Jamie puts a banana peel on my shoulder as we’re cruising along at 35kmh… In the coming flat stages this will be followed by monkey chants, grooming actions and other bits of monkey business – anything to break up the monotony and provoke a giggle. Anyway, the suggestion of a recovery ride is forgotten after lunch when the pace picks up, and then someone lets off a bomb in the pack as we climb up the hill at Cancale near St Malo… The fast boys start chewing on bar tape, while everyone else is left to try and hang on both up the climb and in the rolling 20 or so kms before the finish in St Malo. We’re joined by a new batch of “Tour Tasters” who will stay with us until the Ventoux, Adrian O’Sullivan included in them. Peggy is back on her bike, Chapeau!

Stage 11
The time trial to Mont St Michel is held in terrible weather conditions. We have rain and a ferocious head wind that serves to dampen the ambitions of some of those who would be king in the race of truth. As it turns out, Gareth is the fastest on the day after he fits TT clip-on bars to his Venge, with a time of about 45 minutes… no-one else is even close. Coffee and cakes at a cafe at Mont St Michel, followed by a coach transfer to Fougeres for the first of our transfer stages south-east the following day… More laundry follows, as does a visit to the bike shop, not to mention a hamburger in a local cafe. This time it’s not McDonald’s.

Stage 12
Fougeres to Tours. 214km, 4 banana peels on shoulders accompanied by monkey chants, 3 coffees, 4 hours of iPod listening, stupid Australian accents in the Peloton and a general air of “how much longer?”.

Stage 13
More flatness. This stage, and the previous one, are the long ramblings that are leading us to the Giant of Provence. Sprint stages for the pros, they are for us simply riding that has to be gotten through, saving energy for the coming climbing. Today, one of the banana peels is misplaced, and falls off into the front mech of he who would place it – everyone laughs at his expense, and he receives the Rocket that evening. After the second feed stop I head off for a wee outside of town on my own, and decide to just cruise along by myself, enjoying the scenery. Something then comes over me, and I think “Why not just up the pace a bit, and head out on your own for a while?” After 10 or 15 minutes, I turn around to see the Peloton coming up behind me, and I have my “This is what it must be like for the professionals” moment – in my fantasy, I’m the sole escapee for the day, and the pack are chasing me down. Their combined strength is far too much for me to deal with, and I can’t possibly hold them off, so they catch me, swallow me whole, but in this case I’m carried along with them for the rest of the stage. It’s a brilliant moment. And there’s not a banana peel to be seen for miles.

Stage 14
A deceptively difficult stage to Lyon, the last before the Ventoux. 2 Cat 3s and 5 Cat 4s over 190km make for pretty challenging riding, but everyone is thinking of the following day. That night, the mechanics are swamped with bikes – it seems that everyone wants their ride to be perfect for the following day’s adventures. The briefing is detailed – Phil is at pains to stress that the Ventoux is do-able, that they have a plan to get everyone up it, that the timing is conservative, and that it is one of the classic climbs in cycling. In contrast to all other nights, there is silence throughout the briefing.

Stage 15
I’ve never climbed the Ventoux before, but there are many in Phoenix that have, and I remember their comments. The oppressive stillness of the forest weighs on my mind, as does the possibility of headwinds on the upper slopes. The stories of people having complete horror shows on the mountain concern me, as do the tales of people simply collapsing off their bikes with heat exhaustion. Most of all, though, the fact that it is unknown is the greatest concern for me – I don’t know what it’s really like. Despite all that, we start with a short transfer, then head off… At the first feed stop, Paul and I must answer the call of nature, and everyone is at least 20 minutes gone by the time we’re finished. Realising that we’re now in a slightly unenviable position, we go all out to try and catch the group, getting caught up in the concentration of a 2-up time trial over the 40km to the next feed. When we start catching and passing the back markers, then the auto bus, we realise that we’re made the time, but at what cost? That question is answered once we reach the slopes of the Ventoux, 220km after we started that morning. The forest is dreadfully hot (it’s been 35 on the road during the day), and I need to pause at the water stop half-way up. A small break and I continue the rest of the climb by myself, on reaching the top I go away from the group, sit on the ground, collect myself and my thoughts and burst into tears. I later learn that I’m in good company – 4 others have also wept on reaching the summit. I realise what this stage signified to me, and how much pressure it was exerting on me, and understand that if I can get through this, then I can get through the Tour. As I descend off the mountain, a storm reaches the slopes, dumping enormous amounts of rain – those who are still to complete the climb continue upwards, some sheltering for a short time under camper van awnings, but by the end of the day everyone has made it to the top, and Phil has climbed it 3 times in support of those who needed it. The following day is a rest day, so it’s beer and pizza for all in the hotel.

Sean4

Rest Day 2
It’s hot, and I know I should ride, but I don’t want to. I get up at a leisurely 8am, have a relaxed breakfast, wander around Bedouin, have some lunch, try and relax, and generally try to avoid doing some work stuff that is needed back in the real world. Tomorrow we approach the Alps.

Stage 16
Nothing particularly serious here, but we do have a couple of cat 2 climbs and a cat 3. The first cat 2 is used for more baiting – I’m photographed as the Angry Cyclist, chasing my antagonists up the road. Things quieten down, and there is some quite boring – and slightly wet – riding until we approach Gap. The Col de Manse, Cat 2, is climbed once we go through Gap, and while I’m back fairly early, most of the peloton are caught on its slopes in a torrential downpour – it seems that afternoon storms are a not uncommon part of this time of year. A number of cyclists take shelter in a cafe, playing ping-pong until the storm clears – not an easy thing in cleats – but many are drenched by the time they get off the climb, and they arrive at the hotel frozen to the bone. Ironically, this is the same descent that Armstrong famously went off-road on to avoid another cyclist crashing on one of the hairpin corners – some of that heat might have been a welcome addition for those caught in the storm.

Sean5

Stage 17
The Embrun to Chorges time trial. A coffee and ice cream day. Some give it a bit of stick, but most are content to save themselves for the following three days, and simply pootle around the course at leisure. The first descent is pretty challenging, and it will certainly be interesting to see how the pros take it on. The second descent is a dream – long, sweeping corners, fast straights, and another opportunity to practice my cornering.

Stage 18
Double Alpe d’Huez. Once in a day is enough. Twice is pushing it a bit. Including the descent from the Col de Sarenne is truly questionable. This road is pretty bad – it is a complete patchwork of filled in holes and rough surface that stops me from going any faster than 35kmh, so bad are the vibrations – any faster and I would simply be shaken off the bike, or run the risk of losing control and ending up over the edge. If someone like Cadel Evans or another likely lad decides that they want to try and race down this descent properly, someone could easily get hurt. The second ascent of the Alpe is done in hot conditions, but it’s cooler at the top. I realise that I’ve just climbed one of cycling’s most iconic ascents twice in a day – the first and second times I’ve ever done the climb. It is a brilliant route, and I want to return to do it again.

Stage 19
I was speaking to one of the guys in the group after the Ventoux, and he said that he was most worried about this stage. This is a guy who the day previously climbed Alpe d’Huez in 48 minutes, and is competing in the world amateur road race championships later this year. I know he’s experienced, and I know he’s good, but this is a qualitatively different stage for me. Okay, there are 2 20+km HC climbs early in the stage – the Glandon and the Madeleine – and yes, they are massive, but they come early in the piece. This is not the Ventoux stage. Regardless, people are allowed to set off earlier than usual to allow for the extra time that’s required, but I head off with a few others at about 7:30. It takes about 3-4 hours to get to the top of the Madeleine, the descents off both HC climbs are the best I’ve had yet in the tour, and there are only 3 climbs and a further 100km to go before the Queen stage is finished. Something isn’t right for me today, though, as I’m a bit off my food, and I don’t eat as much as I should at breakfast. Lunch is late in the day, and by the time I get to the top of the last climb, I realise I’m right on the border of bonking. We stop at a cafe and I down a coke and stuff my face full of small chocolate and fruit cakes that people have been carrying with them during the day – big mistake, not getting the right food into me. We descend to Thones, to a dinner of Tartiflette and beer – delicious. Total climbing for the day – over 5100 metres, total distance of 210 km. The Tour seems over. The hardest is behind us.

Sean6

Stage 20
The hardest may be behind us, but there is still hard stuff to be done. Stage 20 is a shock – what I originally thought was relatively flat, with a decent climb at the end, turns out to be a bit of a struggle, not least because “flat” is actually a cat 2, 3 cat 3s and a cat 1, with the final climb being HC. The ascent to Annecy-Semnoz is a complete bugger – or rather, Phil’s briefing from the previous night is the problem. He distinctly said “10 percent for the first 4 km, then easing off to 6% for the rest for the climb”. The reality is 10 percent for the first few kms, then mostly 8 or 9 percent, with a couple of 7 percent pitches. Phil is cursed by many at the cafe at the top, but everyone is too happy to be truly churlish about things. As each person comes in, they are cheered by the increasing group of finished cyclists to push on to the top of the ascent. The hardest is now really behind us.

Sean7

Stage 21.
Another long transfer. Up at 4:30, coach at 5:30, 6 hour transfer to Rambouillet. Meet relatives and friends of riders who are going to join us for the ride into Paris, head off in dribs and drabs, make our way through Versailles, then on to Paris. Silliness on eerily deserted Parisian streets, including the steepest climb we’ve had over the whole tour, all topped off by riders popping small bottles of champagne at each other as we cycle in. Arrive at the Eiffel Tower to meet Hannah my wife, who I haven’t seen in three weeks, and 4 friends who, combined, have made a quite funny, and large, welcoming banner (Aussie themed of course). Now it’s finished.

The Return
Up at a reasonable time (i.e. after 7:30) for breakfast in the hotel. Exchange last minute details with fellow Lifers, then head to Gare du Nord for the Eurostar back to London. Return to normality… with a thud. Wonder what it was all about, and what’s next?

The Statistics
Distance cycled: 3379 km
Time: 134 hours, 28 minutes
Calories burnt: 144,032
Elevation gain: 48,968 metres
Average Heart Rate: 121 bpm
Average Speed: 25 km/h

Cycling the complete route of the tour has been an incredible experience. I’ve had the best and worst days on a bike over the past 3 weeks, and witnessed the best (and worst) of human behaviour, not least of which centred around the various breakfasts we shared. Perhaps the biggest revelation for me was that almost anyone can have this experience – the Tour de Force seems to be going from strength to strength as an event, and it will certainly have a special year in 2014 with the start in Yorkshire. If ever anyone thought that they would like to ride some or all of the tour, to get just the faintest glimpse of what it would be like to experience a grand tour, this is the event for you – register at www.tourdeforce.org.uk, raise the necessary sponsorship money (as it’s a more than worthy cause) and get out and do it – it’s probably the best 3 week training camp you will ever experience.