My Experiences Cycling In France

The summit was cold and chaotic, with cyclists and officials everywhere. I tried to engage race organisers, "Ou est Mavic? C'est possible pour vous assistance pour mon pneu?"

They merely shrugged their shoulders in the typical French way and suggested I sit and wait for Le Broom, the sweep vehicle.I hadn't come all this way to give up, so I decided to tackle the descent, hoping to find a hire shop in one of the villages.

I knew it was dangerous, but the tubby had proved remarkably solid. On the first real hairpin corner, the tyre (perhaps predictably) flipped and sent me flying. I landed hard on my shoulder and hip, and had a couple of scrapes on my hand. I was angry, but accepted a little medical attention from a French couple who happened to be watching from their camper van. Oddly, I decided to carry on. I realised that I needed to go even slower and kept both brakes applied.

I got a lot of funny looks, but at the third ski-rental shop in the village of St Francois Longchamp my stupidity was rewarded. The owner catered for cyclists in the summer and agreed to lend me a front wheel, keeping my carbon marvel as security.

I was now behind Le Broom. Ahead of me I could see fin de course officials, who were reopening the road for normal traffic. I overtook them on one of the 41 hairpins, but at the food station in the valley I was told my official race was over.

They had stopped all the slow riders. It took me 10 minutes to persuade an official to give me permission to continue if I managed to stay ahead of the sweep vehicle. There were no other cyclists in sight, and my heart rate was 170-plus for a long time, but eventually I began to put some stragglers between Le Broom and myself. I felt safe only once I reached the foothills of the Col du Glandon.

Edited by Administrator - October 28 2012 at 6:16am