Being fairly dehydrated after many hot days in the saddle, I drank too much of arguably the worst hydration beverage known to man, beer! I got the skinny on d'Huez from some of the lads who had been up there. It sounded fairly punishing but the more stories that trickled back, the more I wanted to give it my best shot and try to get a decent time. Eamon, the Aussie photographer, had managed an amazing time of just under the hour mark at 59mins. To put that in a small bit of context... The following times were recorded from 14.5km from the finish:
The increased speed in the 1990s had been attributed to Erythropoietin or EPO. Riders with sub-40m times, such as Alex Zülle, Riis, and Virenque, have admitted using such products. Landis subsequently had a positive drugs test. There is also strong evidence that Pantani, who has the fasted recorded time, took EPO. Coppi has been listed with 45m 22s for 1952.
On awakening on the morning of Stage 7 I found that I was a tad anxious due to one too many beers the night before and from having built up this day in my head for quite a bit of time beforehand. Alpe d'Huez is afterall the cycling mecca! Our campsite was practically sitting on the start of the ascent so I figured it would be a good idea to go for a warm up spin before attempting the climb. When I had around 10km on the clock I headed back in the direction of d'Huez and so began the mytical ballbreaker. The climb is 13.8 km at an average 8.1% (1130 m), with 21 hairpins (les 21 virages) marked with signs honoring each of the Tour de France/Alpe d'Huez stage winners. Since the Tour has now used Alpe d'Huez more than 21 times, the lower signs have been doubled up as you'll notice on the first bend with a double panel honoring both Fausto Coppi and Lance Armstrong; Fausto was the first Tour winner of Alpe d'Huez in 1952 and Lance was the 22nd winner in the year 2000. I had been informed beforehand that the finish line lay after 14.5kms so not to stop when I reached the little village but to go approximately 2km further up the road.
I don't remember much of the climb except to say that it was pretty tortuous, given the speed that I was ascending. Not very fast for a professional athlete, but for a humble Leitrim lad it was the upper extent of my cycling capability. There were a few occassions where I thought I was going to have to stop and spew on the famed surface. As the road evened out towards the top of the climb and the village of Huez, I was sure I was going to break the 60 min mark and knowing I was close gave me the drive to pedal harder. I passed under what appeared to be the finish line but remembered that I still had 2kms to go so on I went into a tunnel and up out of the village in the direction of lots of shallets and ski lifts. Not really what I remembered from the TV. My odometer read 14.7km and I was in no-mans land. My timer read 1h 2mins, damnation! Having said that, I was still happy with my time but felt distinctly underwhelmed at the misplaced finish line. There is simply no comparison between the top of d'Huez and the likes of say, Galibier. One is a ski station, and one is the top of a great mountain with magnificent views. Perhaps if there had been a million odd screaming fans atop d'Huez I would have felt differently.
Ski station on the top of l'Aple d'Huez - where are all the screaming fans??
Finish line, but not the official finish line for timing purposes. Confusing!
And so I was absolutely bollixed. It was not long after 8 in the morning and my heart rate had already reached 190bpm! The trouble was that I still had around 90kms to travel to the end of the day's stage. I felt quite unwell as I got off the bike at the "arrivee" but recovered quickly with a coffee. I was looking forward to the descent as I hadn't really seen anything on the way up. The hairpins on the way down would mean a technical descent but technical descents are the ones I most enjoy. By this stage there were plenty of cyclists making the trip upwards. I dropped like a stone, trying to pinpoint the location of the gear I had thrown from the bike on the way up. "No, not here, don't think this is the place, maybe around the next bend, no, not here either...". I realised that I was close to the bottom and only one place had stood out as the potential location of my stuff. Shit! I was going to have to turn back. Such was the speed of the descent that I was probably about 2 or 3 kms below where i wanted to be. The lads shot on past me. I couldn't believe that I was going to have to cycle back up. Exactly NOT what I needed. I even considered not going back up at all, but sense prevailed and with heavy legs I reached the place I had thrown my gear and collected each piece at small intervals from each other. Pete, Rune and Greg thanfully had waited for me at the bottom. I didn't relish the idea of cycling alone up the Col du Lautaret. Greg paced us up as far as the lunch stop and as was now customary, the temperature had increased dramatically. There was a section of newly tarred road where the loose chippings stuck to our tires. It made the going hard for a few kms. Although the Lautaret wasn't too steep (6% average), after the efforts on d'Huez it felt like a long steady climb. A blessing by way of a few clouds came our way and we were treated to some light rain at one stage. With a few kms remaining I decided to make a beeline for the summit, so as not to prolonged the pain any longer than was absolutely necessary. We had been at the top of the Col du Lautaret after descending Col du Galibier a few days earlier. Not much to see here, so we headed south to our next camp at Briancon. A big thanks to Pete for towing me home!
Almost the end of a really hard day @ Col du Lautaret, Galibier is in the background somewhere.
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