VecchioJo's blog

The fifth day of the Haute Route starts with a universally light-hearted mood among the riders. We’ve broken the back of the event in surviving the epic Madeleine - Télégraphe - Galibier triple whammy stage, all had a good rest after yesterday’s time-trial that only meant a short hour in the saddle and we’ve stayed in the same place for two nights running meaning less stress packing and unpacking stuff, which all helps a bit to stall the perpetual wearing down process.

Thankfully after the excesses of yesterday Day 4 is an easy day, although as this is the Haute Route an easy day means a 12km time-trial, uphill, to the top of the 2413 metre high Col Du Granon, a mere 1100 metres of climbing from the start in Serre Chevalier. Ah.

You know when you get up at 4.30 in the morning and put cycling clothes straight on it’s going to be a big day. Day Three of the Haute Route has been oft mentioned as being The Big One, the longest stage of the week at 169kms, with three mountains in the way offering a knee-trembling 4000 metres of climbing via the Madeleine, Télégraphe and the Galibier, tough enough on it’s own, but even tougher when inflicted on legs that have already suffered two hard days riding.

We’ve only been at it a day and already a routine is beginning to settle in. Up early doors, put on cycling kit that’s been pre-sorted the night before, totter down to breakfast, stuff as much croissant and bread into your face as you can, back up to room, brush teeth, pack bag, fill jersey pockets, deposit bag at pick-up point, pedal to start line, ride. Stop, eat, wash, eat, briefing, eat, sleep, wake up.

The wall of heat that falters the first step out the plane at Geneva airport is both a good and bad sign. Good in that the sun is shining and riding a bike in the sun is a Good Thing, bad in that in 30+ degree heat is going to be, um, troublesome if it continues over the week, especially as there’s 730km to pedal, with 17,000 metres of climbing. Even lugging the bike the 100 metres from the train station to the hotel brings about the kind of muck sweat that requires a t-shirt change, hmmm. Welcome to the Haute Route.

There's nothing left to do, riding has been shoe-horned in wherever it can, 2-for-1 deals on pasta have been made significant use of, the bakers knows me quite well and doesn't flinch any more when I teeter in, rides planned to finish about 3.30pm when they start to put the bread and cakes out at half price, I'm in the best shape I've been for a while, but still the crow of self-doubt sits on my shoulder, pecking away.

Time's run out and in order to even contemplate completing the Haute Route I've had to resort to cheating. And not by eating a whole Spanish cow.

Preparation for the Haute Route has hit a bit of a speed-bump. After hoarding a pretty hefty block of miles a combination of work and unavoidable sociability stuttered riding, although not as much as the body deciding to quietly and painfully implode on itself for a few days because it was made to ride something without dropped bars. A dark cloud hovered overhead and enthusiasm sighed and went up to sulk in it's room with the curtains closed and headphones on.

Bashing out the miles in preparation for the Haute Route is taking its toll.

If you see me and I'm not riding my bike, punch me.