By hook or by crook

It’s hard to know what to make of the current situation particularly as I’ve not been affected by it in any way. In fact, I’m watching it with detached interest. As someone who’s previously worked in the reinsurance industry, this type of disaster, low probability/high impact, is fascinating. I’m sure most actuaries would agree with me.

The Eyjafjallajokull volcano last erupted in 1821 and its outpourings lasted for over a year. Clearly, with the airline industry losing hundreds of millions of £/$/Euros per day, this won’t be sustainable for long. As an aside, I’m not sure that I’d appreciate having my beloved home, and demanding to be fed at regular intervals, for over a year. For the sake of my sanity, and the sanity of other women whose husbands travel as frequently as mine, it is to be hoped that a safe solution is found sooner rather than later.

Of course, the news has been full of tales of intrepid travellers who have ingeniously managed to get back to Blighty. Indeed, a colleague of my beloved needed to get back to the UK from Munich last Thursday evening lest he miss out on his week end birthday celebrations.  He took a train to Calais where he found that the only places left on the ferry were those reserved for cyclists. Undaunted, he acquired a bicycle from a local bike shop which he then rode (as required by regulations) onto the ferry. Apparantly, he was not the only businessman who resorted to this ruse.

Professional cyclists, used to hopping onto planes with the same alacrity with which they climb into the saddle, have also had to use their initiative to reach races. The Spanish contingent, including Valverde and Contador, drove over 2,000km to Belgium in time for tomorrow’s Fleche Wallonne. Andre Greipel took 36 hours to get back home to Germany after spending fewer hours racing to 5 stage wins in the Tour of Turkey. Others, particularly if they didn’t fare as well as their Directeur Sportif might have hoped, may still be wending their weary way home.

At long last

My legs are nowhere near as tired this week as they were last. I’m not sure what that says: maybe, I could have gone even faster on Sunday. This week end we’ve got the l’Antiboise, which was cancelled last year due to rain. In 2008, I did the 100km course, which at the time represented quite a feat for me. I remember being totally exhausted afterwards and, close to the finish, we had to stop in Mandelieu Napoule for a comfort break and a reviving hot chocolate.

This year I have signed up for the 150km. I think I have already done most of the route with the Tuesday UFOLEP group, so I don’t feel too daunted. Although I am hoping to finish in a reasonable time so that I can get back to watch the Amstel Gold Race before we head off to Alassio for a few days. My beloved is meeting a client there on Monday so it seemed opportune to take our bikes and spend a couple of days visiting the places we didn’t see when we were there last year with the club.

Fuel is always an issue for me on longer rides. I have yet to find an energy drink which doesn’t give me intestinal troubles. I’m also not a fan of gels, for the same reason. I find that a reviving coke at the mid-way point, plus my own home-made energy bars, and dried fruit, do the trick. Providing, of course, I remember to take them with me.

Now that I’ve almost finished my workload, I’m going for a slightly longer ride tomorrow, just to loosen the legs. I’ve had a very light training schedule this week which ramps up for the following three weeks to take account of the randonnees I aim to complete. With any luck, I’ll be able to schedule my laser eye treatment towards the end of next month when, for several subsequent days, I’ll be totally occupied with the Brevet Kivilev.

Sadly, I haven’t had much time to watch the action from the various stage and one-day races taking place this week. Though I have found time to read the results. Hurrah, at last a Belgian (albeit a Wallon) has won one of the semi-classics – La Fleche Brabaconne. Yes, a Shack attack from Sebastien Rosseler (one of those riders who weighs more than me) saw him leapfrog over two Flandriens to the top step of the podium. Theo Bos 2 -0 rest of the peloton in Tour de Castille et Leon. While over in the Tour of Turkey, it’s  Greipel 3  and Visconti 2 (plus the leader’s jersey).

Forewarned

The sun was shining, my bike was calling but my programme said “rest”. I couldn’t do it. Having missed yesterday’s ride, my beloved and I sought to replicate it today. We made good time, despite heavy traffic. It took us two hours to ride to Menton where we took the left hand turn up to Ste Agnes, a 9km, 9% climb with stunning views. It took me exactly an hour to climb the Col de la Madone. 

I have only done this once before and that was two years ago. I arrived at the pointage at 11:10am to discover it was closed. Nul points, no refreshments; I almost wept. My girlfriend nearly suffered a similar fate yesterday. But I’d told her that VC Menton had said the pointage would be open until 11:30am. She made them go and get their papers to record the points and licences for her and her clubmates.

As I wound my way up the climb, I realised I had forgotten how tricky it is in parts. Amael Moinard overhauled me with about 6km to go. He’s shortly off to the Tour of Turkey where I’m sure he’ll do well. About 2km from the top, I felt my energy ebbing and, to keep going,  promised myself a cold coke (and a sugar rush) as soon as I reached the village. Sadly, all I got was a top up at the fountain. As we headed off in the direction of Peille, my legs felt like jelly and I was feeling light-headed. Yes, I was bonking and had absolutely nothing with me. (Memo to self: never, ever go out without something to eat). But I struggled on and having crested the hill, it was downhill all the way to La Turbie, and a late lunch.

Which restaurant to choose? In these instances, my preference is to go for the one with tablecloths and napkins but none of them had these. I then had a quick look at the diners and their plates. I chose the restaurant next to the fountain which turned out to be an excellent choice. The lobster and asparagus salad was delicious, as was my strawberry and violet dessert. Much fortified, we set off in the direction of Col d’Eze and descended back into Nice on the Grande Corniche.

The traffic was backed up all the way round the port and we had to resort to using the cycling path alongside the Promenade. It’s a bit of an obstacle course requiring nerves of steel, good eyesight and eyes in the back of one’s head (or at least helmet). There’s pedestrians, cyclists, joggers, in-line skaters, dogs, other cyclists one or two abreast and kids on scooters, trikes and bikes unable to control their trajectory. We fled back to the road only to meet an Austrian who was cycling from Graz to Santiago di Compostela. We wished him good luck and God speed.