Tour de Pistonheads 2015
Discussion
Now, I'm all for rushing in and getting ahead of myself, and would absolutely love to take this further but, I think we should build momentum gradually rather than run out of steam by aiming too high. If we avoid planes/ferries for the next one then it removes a whole host of expense and agro. It also makes it much more feasible for support crews to get involved. We learned very valuable lessons over the Tour. Lots of little things that really make a difference. If next time around we have two routes and a dozen or so riders there will be all new lessons to be learned.
That's not to say we can't go BIG next time, I just think we'd be wise to remove some easy complications and invest our energy into other niceties. With a little more time we should be able to enjoy a little support from Haymarket + friends and bring in some of the bigger ideas I wasn't able to put in place this time around. Then, looking overseas for the 3rd edition.
Of course, none of this precludes anybody else from organising a winter/spring training camp or anything else. The Tour de PH doesn't belong to me. I just got the ball rolling.
That's not to say we can't go BIG next time, I just think we'd be wise to remove some easy complications and invest our energy into other niceties. With a little more time we should be able to enjoy a little support from Haymarket + friends and bring in some of the bigger ideas I wasn't able to put in place this time around. Then, looking overseas for the 3rd edition.
Of course, none of this precludes anybody else from organising a winter/spring training camp or anything else. The Tour de PH doesn't belong to me. I just got the ball rolling.
Edited by Gruffy on Tuesday 12th May 17:04
As Marcellus alludes to, I have some prior experience with this kind of thing. Over a decade ago I started a tour company organising driving holidays and I've guided clients over nearly every classic cycling climb in Europe, albeit on four wheels (I've even ski-toured over some of them in winter!). There's some learning to do to port that knowledge across to cycling but last weekend was a huge headstart on that.
Just as it was 10 years ago, we have a big advantage here in that we've already got a strong community. That's the hardest part right there.
Putting the Tour together has rekindled the excitement I had back in the road trip days. I get an enormous buzz from encouraging people out of their comfort zones and watching them smash it. You build great bonds when you're really challenged together. I can't wait to do more.
Just as it was 10 years ago, we have a big advantage here in that we've already got a strong community. That's the hardest part right there.
Putting the Tour together has rekindled the excitement I had back in the road trip days. I get an enormous buzz from encouraging people out of their comfort zones and watching them smash it. You build great bonds when you're really challenged together. I can't wait to do more.
Marcellus said:
I had a play on Strava last night for someone else and using Chamonix as a base created 3 routes, each was circular around the 100 mile mark, 2 were 12,000ft of climbing and 1 was 18,000!
I suspect that big one looks very much like this https://www.strava.com/routes/919273 which I fancy a pop at later in the year.JustinF said:
tobinen said:
Talking of knees, my soreness and aching behind my right knee has just about subsided. I'll make some saddle tweaks as per your suggestions, Justin
Yeah don't be the guy that ignored his doctor and is still suffering a year later...also ibuprofen! just ask Tony.
TonyHetherington said:
JustinF said:
Yeah don't be the guy that ignored his doctor and is still suffering a year later...also ibuprofen! just ask Tony.
I genuinely think that was the difference between me making it and me not. Pain on Saturday morning was quite bad - and with 200 miles to go, I was nervous. But then...hurrah!! DRUGS!!I've little experience on other bikes for benchmarking but I can tell you that I am properly smitten with the thing. Crosswinds can make for interesting descents at speed but I'm sure you could say the same of any deep rims. The geo is more relaxed than the Triban after a bike fit (I suspect I went too large with the Triban) and with some gel padding under the bar tape I found it very surprisingly comfortable on the Tour. I've also swapped the tyres for GP4000s 25s, but do still run high pressures. I spent a lot of time on the drops and didn't suffer for it.
Out of the crosswinds she descends confidently. I would actually like a 53 on the front if I could, but I do love the descents and fast rolling terrain. On the back I've swapped for an 11-32 and as much as I liked the close stack of the 11-28 I don't miss it enough to bugger around with swapping it back and forth. I'll keep it at 11-32. It was useful for sparing my knees on some of the longer climbs of the Tour.
One big surprise was the frame's performance in crosswinds. It genuinely feels like crosswinds are less punishing on the frame than they were on the Triban, relatively speaking.
There was a little creaking out of the saddle but I've since discovered that it was related to the rear skewer not being tight enough. I can't say that I notice any flex when climbing. I usually try to spin but I did mash it up Jenkin Road and still wasn't conscious of any flex.
Ultegra is… well, Ultegra. It's superb. 2,500km in and it's needed no adjustment since the original setup. The direct mount brakes are absolutely superb. They squeal on the Exalith surface to begin with but 100km in and that changed to the most delicious braking noise. The wheels sound awesome too, humming along at a rolling pace and then ramping up when sprinting.
It's at speed that the bike just comes alive (at least compared to the Triban) and it's a real joy to be hooning along above 40kph. It just encourages you to smash it.
The reviews have all been gushing. Looking around, I can't see any serious alternatives without spending a good amount more money. In summary, I'm loving it.
And I still haven't got bored of looking at it.
Out of the crosswinds she descends confidently. I would actually like a 53 on the front if I could, but I do love the descents and fast rolling terrain. On the back I've swapped for an 11-32 and as much as I liked the close stack of the 11-28 I don't miss it enough to bugger around with swapping it back and forth. I'll keep it at 11-32. It was useful for sparing my knees on some of the longer climbs of the Tour.
One big surprise was the frame's performance in crosswinds. It genuinely feels like crosswinds are less punishing on the frame than they were on the Triban, relatively speaking.
There was a little creaking out of the saddle but I've since discovered that it was related to the rear skewer not being tight enough. I can't say that I notice any flex when climbing. I usually try to spin but I did mash it up Jenkin Road and still wasn't conscious of any flex.
Ultegra is… well, Ultegra. It's superb. 2,500km in and it's needed no adjustment since the original setup. The direct mount brakes are absolutely superb. They squeal on the Exalith surface to begin with but 100km in and that changed to the most delicious braking noise. The wheels sound awesome too, humming along at a rolling pace and then ramping up when sprinting.
It's at speed that the bike just comes alive (at least compared to the Triban) and it's a real joy to be hooning along above 40kph. It just encourages you to smash it.
The reviews have all been gushing. Looking around, I can't see any serious alternatives without spending a good amount more money. In summary, I'm loving it.
And I still haven't got bored of looking at it.
Edited by Gruffy on Thursday 14th May 15:45
2015 Tour de Pistonheads - Stage 1
Harrogate-Harrogate 200km, 2,700m
Strava (Darren) | Strava Fly-By
It was a glorious Thursday afternoon in London when I dropped the pooch off at my neighbours, loaded myself with luggage and wobbled off to Kings Cross to meet Tony for the 13:35 to Harrogate. It was a great feeling to finally be on our way after months of anticipation. Martin (Johno_78) wasn't long behind us, heading in from Norfolk. Justin was busy tinkering with the Saab and picking up supplies and wouldn't hit Harrogate until much later.
Al (burriana) met us at the station and relieved us of luggage. We rode through sunny Harrogate in our civvies, past countless yellow bikes and even though it was only a mile to Al's place it was one of the most fun rides I've had. The excitement, perhaps. Martin arrived and we decamped to the Imperial for an all-you-can-eat Chinese carbfest. Justin pulled into the hotel just after 22:30 and we got a chance to finally meet in the bar before retiring for final prep and bed.
The three weather apps on my phone had been taking a beating in the two weeks leading up to the Tour. None of them could make their minds up whether we were going to roast, drown or face gale force winds. In the end the answer was all three, but Friday kicked off cold, dry and windy, which we considered to be lucky. We hustled to Al's for toast, Alpen, caffeine and a bit of last minute bike faffing before pressing the start buttons on the Garmins.
The official TdF route started in Leeds with a neutralised section to Harewood House to meet the royals and have a second send-off. We came in from Harrogate by the same distance and stopped off at the House for a photo-op. Wills and Harry were no-shows.
And so we’re off, heading west towards Skipton through the morning rush hour traffic as the clouds dispersed and the sun put in an appearance. Al was appreciating me setting a quick pace at the front. I kept hearing him call me Contador, or something like that anyway. He must have changed his mind a little later as “Half a log” came the shout from behind. Half a log!? That’ll be ‘Yorkshire’ for ‘drop the tempo a little’. I’m not used to riding in a group so it wasn’t until later in the Tour that I’d got the hang of riding in a bunch at a team tempo.
Our first rendezvous with Justin came 40km in, just past Ilkley. We couldn’t help but smile as we pulled into the lay-by to find an open Saab with all of our individual feed boxes, kit bags and team supplies neatly lined up. Marginal gains and all that.
Soon we reached Skipton and, turning north towards the Dales, swapped the A65 for quieter lanes. With all my riding starting and ending in Central London this stunning rolling terrain of Yorkshire presented quite a challenge. It was hard to maintain discipline and rein it in when inside I was just itching to open the taps and inevitably blow up too soon. The riding was getting better and better. At any moment I was expecting Postman Pat to appear on the crest of the next roller or from behind some drystone wall. We didn’t have a definite plan for lunch so it was eyes open for a suitable stop. With lady luck on our side we stumbled upon the very pretty Kilnsey Park Estate and gorged ourselves on sausages sandwiches and cake in the sun.
Refuelled it was onwards to the Cote de Cray (416m), the first categorised climb of the Tour, known locally as Kidstones Pass. 1.6km at an average of 7.1%, making it a bigger challenge than any of our personal local hills. Tony is a Kent lad (better be sure to enunciate that properly) so has a couple of bumps locally but nothing to rival this. Martin’s local mountain is 28m. He’s from Norfolk. The Surrey Hills is as topographic as my riding had been. The knowledge that this was one of the ‘easier’ climbs of the Tour helped with motivation. We knew we had to be able to crack this one comfortably, so we did, in spite of the wind. We’d stuck together so far but now was the time to find our own pace and spin to the summit. I found a steady rhythm and just spun my way comfortably to the top, pleased to have the first big climb under my belt.
My favourite part of riding is fast descents and in London there are few opportunities to really open the taps up. I’d been dreaming about these for months. In and around London there are few opportunities to really go wild. The gusty crosswinds encouraged a bit of caution and the drystone walls were just tall enough to reduce sight lines around corners so it wasn’t the flat-out effort I was hoping for but it still put a huge grin on my face.
Video: Justin's dashcam chasing me off Cote de Cray
At the halfway point Al guided us to a great little cafe in Hawes for coffee and panini ahead of the big climb of the day over Buttertubs (532m). A 4.5km category three climb at an average of 6.8%. It starts off innocuously enough and you’re left thinking “this isn’t so bad” but then it ramps up quite dramatically, peaking at 17% in the middle section. The final third is a false flat that eases off to around 4-5%. Climbing perspectives were starting to shift and in my mind I was able to shrug 5% off as being recovery time.
Video: Justin's drive over Buttertubs, from near the summit
I tackled the descent with a bit of caution. It has a handful of very tight corners that do sneak up on you a bit. That drystone wall focuses the mind a little as it’s probably not the most forgiving of things to hit. The gradient flattened off in the pretty village of Muker and I found a row of benches overlooking the Dales to rest up, refuel and wait for the gang.
The final big obstacle of the day was Grinton Moor, a category three climb over 3km at 6.6%. I was beginning to learn that these average gradient measurements only tell half the story. Most of the climb is mellow at 5% but it’s spiked with a 12% section at the start to sap your energy and then a 13% ramp in the middle. Being the last big climb of the day though I felt motivated to tackle it. Tomorrow’s profile loomed large in the mind and I kept thinking I needed to be able to comfortably cover stage 1 if I had any chance of finishing the Tour.
By this time the weather was turning and layers had been added. The descent down off Grinton Moor was one of my favourites, with a bit better visibility affording a bit of extra confidence to open it up. As we reached the bottom of the descent the heavens opened and the rain kept building until it was torrential. With 50km to go and energy levels flagging we were treated to some ‘proper’ Yorkshire weather. The next 15-20km to our last coffee stop in Masham were the longest of the day and it took some heavy charm (as much charm as four men in sodden Lycra could manage) to persuade the ladies of the cafe to stay open for just a few more minutes for us to grab a much needed top up.
The final 35km run into Harrogate was a slog, no two ways about it. Al had claimed his first century. Martin had too but we didn’t realise this was his first until much later in the weekend. When we passed Justin for the final time Tony needed to grab more layers from the car so Al and Martin pressed on into the wind and rain. I tried to bring Tony back to the lads but didn’t seem to be making much ground on them, almost until we’d reached Harrogate. They were laying down quite a serious pace given the conditions and the riding we’d already done. 23mph it later turned out. With the finish line within reach we’d all found a little extra in the reserves and by this time we were all very comfortable riding in a tight bunch, which helped keep our pace high to the line.
Riding into Harrogate was a wonderful feeling, in spite of the torrential conditions. There was a huge sense of accomplishment all round. Al with his first century, the rest of us just overjoyed to have ticked off stage 1 without feeling too broken. Now it was time to hustle back to the hotel and freshen up before dinner at Al’s and some time with Tim, the seriously excellent physio from his local cycling club. Huge helpings of spag bol and cheesecake were wolfed down. It should have been time for bed but the luggage needed packing to be transported to Sheffield, the bike needed some TLC after riding in those conditions and I couldn’t help reviewing the ride on Strava too. Still wired from the day’s excitement I struggled to sleep and killed time on Pistonheads and reviewing tomorrow’s weather forecast, which was the stuff of nightmares. Eventually the first yawn appeared and set the alarm for four hours time.
Harrogate-Harrogate 200km, 2,700m
Strava (Darren) | Strava Fly-By
It was a glorious Thursday afternoon in London when I dropped the pooch off at my neighbours, loaded myself with luggage and wobbled off to Kings Cross to meet Tony for the 13:35 to Harrogate. It was a great feeling to finally be on our way after months of anticipation. Martin (Johno_78) wasn't long behind us, heading in from Norfolk. Justin was busy tinkering with the Saab and picking up supplies and wouldn't hit Harrogate until much later.
Al (burriana) met us at the station and relieved us of luggage. We rode through sunny Harrogate in our civvies, past countless yellow bikes and even though it was only a mile to Al's place it was one of the most fun rides I've had. The excitement, perhaps. Martin arrived and we decamped to the Imperial for an all-you-can-eat Chinese carbfest. Justin pulled into the hotel just after 22:30 and we got a chance to finally meet in the bar before retiring for final prep and bed.
The three weather apps on my phone had been taking a beating in the two weeks leading up to the Tour. None of them could make their minds up whether we were going to roast, drown or face gale force winds. In the end the answer was all three, but Friday kicked off cold, dry and windy, which we considered to be lucky. We hustled to Al's for toast, Alpen, caffeine and a bit of last minute bike faffing before pressing the start buttons on the Garmins.
The official TdF route started in Leeds with a neutralised section to Harewood House to meet the royals and have a second send-off. We came in from Harrogate by the same distance and stopped off at the House for a photo-op. Wills and Harry were no-shows.
And so we’re off, heading west towards Skipton through the morning rush hour traffic as the clouds dispersed and the sun put in an appearance. Al was appreciating me setting a quick pace at the front. I kept hearing him call me Contador, or something like that anyway. He must have changed his mind a little later as “Half a log” came the shout from behind. Half a log!? That’ll be ‘Yorkshire’ for ‘drop the tempo a little’. I’m not used to riding in a group so it wasn’t until later in the Tour that I’d got the hang of riding in a bunch at a team tempo.
Our first rendezvous with Justin came 40km in, just past Ilkley. We couldn’t help but smile as we pulled into the lay-by to find an open Saab with all of our individual feed boxes, kit bags and team supplies neatly lined up. Marginal gains and all that.
Soon we reached Skipton and, turning north towards the Dales, swapped the A65 for quieter lanes. With all my riding starting and ending in Central London this stunning rolling terrain of Yorkshire presented quite a challenge. It was hard to maintain discipline and rein it in when inside I was just itching to open the taps and inevitably blow up too soon. The riding was getting better and better. At any moment I was expecting Postman Pat to appear on the crest of the next roller or from behind some drystone wall. We didn’t have a definite plan for lunch so it was eyes open for a suitable stop. With lady luck on our side we stumbled upon the very pretty Kilnsey Park Estate and gorged ourselves on sausages sandwiches and cake in the sun.
Refuelled it was onwards to the Cote de Cray (416m), the first categorised climb of the Tour, known locally as Kidstones Pass. 1.6km at an average of 7.1%, making it a bigger challenge than any of our personal local hills. Tony is a Kent lad (better be sure to enunciate that properly) so has a couple of bumps locally but nothing to rival this. Martin’s local mountain is 28m. He’s from Norfolk. The Surrey Hills is as topographic as my riding had been. The knowledge that this was one of the ‘easier’ climbs of the Tour helped with motivation. We knew we had to be able to crack this one comfortably, so we did, in spite of the wind. We’d stuck together so far but now was the time to find our own pace and spin to the summit. I found a steady rhythm and just spun my way comfortably to the top, pleased to have the first big climb under my belt.
My favourite part of riding is fast descents and in London there are few opportunities to really open the taps up. I’d been dreaming about these for months. In and around London there are few opportunities to really go wild. The gusty crosswinds encouraged a bit of caution and the drystone walls were just tall enough to reduce sight lines around corners so it wasn’t the flat-out effort I was hoping for but it still put a huge grin on my face.
Video: Justin's dashcam chasing me off Cote de Cray
At the halfway point Al guided us to a great little cafe in Hawes for coffee and panini ahead of the big climb of the day over Buttertubs (532m). A 4.5km category three climb at an average of 6.8%. It starts off innocuously enough and you’re left thinking “this isn’t so bad” but then it ramps up quite dramatically, peaking at 17% in the middle section. The final third is a false flat that eases off to around 4-5%. Climbing perspectives were starting to shift and in my mind I was able to shrug 5% off as being recovery time.
Video: Justin's drive over Buttertubs, from near the summit
I tackled the descent with a bit of caution. It has a handful of very tight corners that do sneak up on you a bit. That drystone wall focuses the mind a little as it’s probably not the most forgiving of things to hit. The gradient flattened off in the pretty village of Muker and I found a row of benches overlooking the Dales to rest up, refuel and wait for the gang.
The final big obstacle of the day was Grinton Moor, a category three climb over 3km at 6.6%. I was beginning to learn that these average gradient measurements only tell half the story. Most of the climb is mellow at 5% but it’s spiked with a 12% section at the start to sap your energy and then a 13% ramp in the middle. Being the last big climb of the day though I felt motivated to tackle it. Tomorrow’s profile loomed large in the mind and I kept thinking I needed to be able to comfortably cover stage 1 if I had any chance of finishing the Tour.
By this time the weather was turning and layers had been added. The descent down off Grinton Moor was one of my favourites, with a bit better visibility affording a bit of extra confidence to open it up. As we reached the bottom of the descent the heavens opened and the rain kept building until it was torrential. With 50km to go and energy levels flagging we were treated to some ‘proper’ Yorkshire weather. The next 15-20km to our last coffee stop in Masham were the longest of the day and it took some heavy charm (as much charm as four men in sodden Lycra could manage) to persuade the ladies of the cafe to stay open for just a few more minutes for us to grab a much needed top up.
The final 35km run into Harrogate was a slog, no two ways about it. Al had claimed his first century. Martin had too but we didn’t realise this was his first until much later in the weekend. When we passed Justin for the final time Tony needed to grab more layers from the car so Al and Martin pressed on into the wind and rain. I tried to bring Tony back to the lads but didn’t seem to be making much ground on them, almost until we’d reached Harrogate. They were laying down quite a serious pace given the conditions and the riding we’d already done. 23mph it later turned out. With the finish line within reach we’d all found a little extra in the reserves and by this time we were all very comfortable riding in a tight bunch, which helped keep our pace high to the line.
Riding into Harrogate was a wonderful feeling, in spite of the torrential conditions. There was a huge sense of accomplishment all round. Al with his first century, the rest of us just overjoyed to have ticked off stage 1 without feeling too broken. Now it was time to hustle back to the hotel and freshen up before dinner at Al’s and some time with Tim, the seriously excellent physio from his local cycling club. Huge helpings of spag bol and cheesecake were wolfed down. It should have been time for bed but the luggage needed packing to be transported to Sheffield, the bike needed some TLC after riding in those conditions and I couldn’t help reviewing the ride on Strava too. Still wired from the day’s excitement I struggled to sleep and killed time on Pistonheads and reviewing tomorrow’s weather forecast, which was the stuff of nightmares. Eventually the first yawn appeared and set the alarm for four hours time.
Edited by Gruffy on Saturday 16th May 17:06
Edited by Gruffy on Monday 18th May 00:12
2015 Tour de Pistonheads - Stage 2
Harrogate - Sheffield 170km, 3,700m
Strava (Darren) | Strava Fly-By
6am. The alarm comes far too soon, but there’s no time for indulging in a lazy rise. My first thoughts are of the weather though by now I’d resigned myself to the fact that it wasn’t going to play nicely. I convinced myself that some brutal weather would actually make the Tour more glorious but here and now I was questioning that and I was full of hope as I drew back the curtains. The trees were leaning over at crazy angles. Bugger.
The night before I’d packed away as much as I could but left a selection of kit out, waiting to see what the weather would be like. I went for fleecy Nanoflex knee warmers under full Nanoflex tights. It was a struggle choosing between the new Gabba-style PH Tempest jersey or a jersey and jacket combination. Given the rain and the strong winds I opted for the full jersey and jacket set up. It was going to be cold out there. Luckily we had the huge advantage of Justin tagging us in the support car, so I could treat myself to being over-dressed for the cold start safe in the knowledge that I could pare it down later. We were also lucky to have Al driving with us for the first two hours pointing his SLR in our direction for some of the great shots below.
Breakfast was demolished in short order and it was back to the room for final packing and one last power-to-weight session on the porcelain throne. The chain was lubed, tyres and brakes checked. I packed my food box for the day and then wobbled my way down to the lobby with my bike and luggage.
In our tired state there was quite a bit of faffing all around and it was almost 8am when we finally rolled out of the sheltered reception area to pick up the Tour route on the A59. Given the forecast we’d elected to skip the optional 25km loop that would’ve maintained the official stage distance. Today was clearly going to be tough enough already. The first kilometre took us north on some downhill roads out of Harrogate and I got my first taste of the strength of the westerly crosswind. On those deep Mavic rims it was frankly terrifying at anything above 25kph and the descent out of Harrogate was quite unpleasant. It actually came as a relief to turn the first corner and point it into the 30mph wind. The sense of relief faded soon enough.
The next 25km was the toughest riding I have ever experienced. We rode in the tightest of formations and buried ourselves against the wind and driving rain. At times we struggled to reach 30kph downhill, the wind was so strong, but we knew this couldn’t last forever and eventually we’d turn southwards and into the crosswinds again. I swapped my jacket for a rain cape as the rain got heavier but even though it’s cut so close the wind was strong enough to make me ditch that soon after. So I ditched everything for just the Tempest jersey, which is truly painted on and coped superbly with the worst the Dales could throw at us.
The signs warn us that Blubberhouses (301m) is imminent. 1.8km at an average gradient of 6.1%. On paper this category four climb is the easiest of the day’s nine officially categorised climbs (there are 15 serious climbs in total) but perhaps not in these conditions. The early slopes did provide some shelter from the wind and created the bizarre scenario where a 6% slope felt easier than the flatter stuff before. That effect faded as we climbed higher towards the summit at 300m.
The descent came almost unnoticed, averaging just 25kph into the wind. At the bottom we finally turned southwards, into the shelter of some trees and instantly it felt like I’d been given an e-bike. Such was the relief to be in still conditions and capable of a decent pace again that I pressed on at a good lick of speed in search of somewhere in Addingham to regroup and warm ourselves, just 30km into our day.
After 30 minutes of warming our hands on hot chocolates and stuffing our bellies on parkin and pork pies we squelched off to Keighley. Many of the climbs on the stage weren't categorised for the Tour de France, and with so many big climbs still to come we tried not to give them much attention ourselves. Perspectives were beginning to shift. We reached the Cote d'Oxenhope Moor and turn left to pass along a reservoir. We use the short descent to build some good speed, hoping to carry it into the climb, but we hit the 25% ramp at the start and ground to a halt so abruptly that we were left struggling to change down quickly enough.
The climb was dramatic, punctuated with several brutally sharp ramps to sap your strength, making even the easier pitches in between that much more difficult. The weather hadn't changed its mood either.
The descent was good fun but I almost came undone. A tractor appeared in the distance, heading away from me but taking up the full width of the narrow lane, tightly flanked by drystrone walls. I eased the brakes on and then, when nothing much happened, I stopped easing and starting wrenching on them. The Exalith braking surface on the Mavic rims, combined with dual pivot Ultegra calipers is amazing in the dry, but in the wet… not so much. As I hurtled closer to the tractor I could see the driver worriedly fixed on his mirror - he was already going flat out. Two pipes poked out behind him and I was between these, no more than a metre from the body of the thing, when I finally scrubbed enough speed to avoid a crash. That shrunk my appetite for any high-speed shenanigans until the roads dried up!
Fortunately the weather was starting to improve as we dropped down into Hebden Bridge along a busier, swoopier stretch of road. Despite the rivers of rainwater on the sides of the road the descent had good enough visibility to open the taps up and we rolled into the pretty village of Hebden Bridge overtaking the traffic as we did. Three Cheshire Cat grins arrived at a tea shop for a spot of lunch but we sobered up when we realised it had taken us five and a half hours to cover just 64km and we still had most of the climbing ahead of us.
The profile from here on was either up or down, which meant we were usually spread out across the route riding at our own paces and regrouping often. Martin and Tony set off towards Cragg Vale while I gave myself a bit more time to thaw my feet out - it took an hour of massaging them to regain feeling in my heels.
Strava ranks this as a category 3 climb but Cragg Vale was uncategorised climbs in the Tour de France. Climbing 300m at 3% for 8.6km is a serious climb on cold stiff post-lunch legs but the joy on cresting the summit was doubled when we realised we'd be turning east and getting our first taste of a cross-tailwind. We crossed the Cote de Ripponden and grabbed another coffee in Ripponden village.
We had the Cote de Greetland to deal with but all attention was focused on Holme Moss, the lumpiest lump of the stage. By now I was feeling strong and gaining confidence in my climbing. Martin and Tony set off and I hung back to try and time a simultaneous arrival at the top of Holme Moss to avoid anybody waiting in the cold for too long. I gave chase through the maze of seriously steep residential roads out of Greetland and along some major roads into and through Huddersfield.
It's an 18km climb from Huddersfield to the top of Holme Moss which starts gradually and then ramps up violently at Holme Firth with 5km to go. I passed Martin at the side of the road just before Holme Firth and shouted to see if he was OK. He said he was and with Justin not far behind in the support car I concentrated on trying to reel Tony in.
From Holme Firth the climb rises to 521m at an average gradient of 7.1% over 4.7km. Those numbers a worthless though. Most of the early part of the climb was comfortably into double digits. I gritted my teeth thinking that the rest of the climb must ease off if the average is 7.1% but I was wrong. The last thing you want to see when you're looking at your Garmin and counting down the metres climbed to 521m is a descent. Several times I lost elevation and then cursed as the gradient went back up past 10%… 12%… 15%. As the view opened up I still couldn't see Tony which made we doubt how hard I was working, despite suffering hard. There were two occasions on Holme Moss - the only times during the Tour - where I thought I might have to stop, that I wasn't able to climb this hill in one hit. I had to dig very deep into my Rule 5 reserves to stay upright and press on. With 150m climbing to go I reset my mental climbing counter and decided I had one 'Westerham Hill' left to go. There were a family of Japanese tourists near the final set of bends and they expressed their respect for my efforts. OK, it wasn't quite the thousands that carpeted this hill for the Grand Depart but they were encouraging me and I felt an obligation to rise to their expectations of the stoic cycling warrior. I'm pretty sure they were the difference in getting me to the top at that pace without stopping. That and desperately trying to chase down Tony. It makes me wonder how incredible it must have been for the pros to be cheered on by all those people. The hairs are standing up just writing this.
Justin was waiting at the top but it turned out Tony had taken a wrong turn somewhere in Huddersfield and I'd nipped past him without realising. I'm grateful for that really because I don't think I could have pushed so hard with out that challenge. It breaks The Rules but I'd earned a cheesy trophy photo. I rested the bike against the motor and jumped in the passenger seat to eat, drink and rest a little. The wind was still quite violent and blew the bike to the ground. Given how much I'd suffered coming up I was now thinking of Martin and Tony and how they'd fare, especially as Martin had pulled up just before Holme Firth. This stage caught out many of the pros during the Tour and my Icelandic ironman friends tried this stage last year (only this stage) and reported back that it broke them too. A few minutes later and Tony appeared on the final slopes, looking far too fresh.
From the top the view stretches out for quite some way and I was getting more worried when we still couldn't see Martin anywhere. There was no need to worry though. We didn't see him coming but he appeared not far behind Tony, stubbornly spinning away in his metronomic style, giving the sense that he could've simply carried on at the same pace for another few hundred vertical metres.
That was the big one. It was behind us. We still had a lot of climbing to do but there was just 55km to go and the weather was improving quickly too. I gave the guys a few minutes and then got myself ready for the descent I'd been looking forward to for the last few months. There was a crosswind but it was consistent rather than anything too gusty and the roads were dry which meant I had confidence in the brakes again. Justin rolled out of the car park behind me and we set off downhill towards Sheffield.
I'd not been moving long before the front wheel started to wobble, getting stronger and stronger. Justin tells me we were doing around 40mph at this point and the stab of adrenalin it gave me sent everything into slow motion. I remembered the recent article in one of the cycling magazines about this wheel oscillation and trying to understand the science behind it. There was no known explanation but I was racking my brains trying to remember what advice they gave if you ever experienced it. I tried the brakes and that didn't help much. I tried going loose and that didn't help much either. The wobble grew and I was fairly sure I wasn't going to be able to rescue this but I thought, at least there's no drystone walls here so if I can just avoid hitting the tarmac… Everything happened over the space of what I believe is around 10-15 seconds and it faded just as quickly as it came on. Somehow I was still upright but I still had a huge descent to tackle and I'd lost my bottle. I rode the brakes, terrified about catching another cross-wind, but then the smell of burning rubber had me loosening up again. The wobble returned but I was going much slower this time so it was managed with a little braking. It wasn't until after the descent that Justin had the insight to check the wheels and found that the skewer needed tightening after the bike toppled at the summit. It was nothing to do with crosswinds!
Martin had gone on ahead and so Tony and I were riding together, taking it easy into Sheffield to recover for a glorious effort up Jenkin Road. It seemed to take ages to finally arrive but when it did I wished Tony good luck and launched into an effort. This road is crazy. Crazy in the best possible way. Any road that needs a handrail for pedestrians is always going to be a bit special. The route planners were touched by genius when they put this at the end of this stage, with 400km and 7,000m of climbing in the legs. I tried to pace myself and was well measured in the early part of the climb. Justin was poised with the camera on the steepest part of the road (30%) and that was all the motivation I needed to step it up a gear. About two thirds up it eases to 20-22% and I decided I should give whatever was left. It was almost certainly adrenalin and endorphins clouding my judgement but I felt I could've given even more on those top slopes.
Tony and I regrouped just after the descent and rolled towards the finish, chatting about our cat-and-mouse tactics and how we'd outfox each other for the sprint finish. Martin was comfortably ahead of us and waiting roadside just before the finish line, which we were struggling to identify. The Garmin proclaimed we'd crossed the line already and then we just kind of stumbled across the hotel and the ride was done.
That was it. We'd tamed the beast. After what we'd just done stage 3 was just cast aside as an afterthought, a recovery ride. As far as we were concerned we’d cracked the Tour and it was with a huge sense of pride that we sunk some beers and pizza and flicked through the photos and videos of the day.
Harrogate - Sheffield 170km, 3,700m
Strava (Darren) | Strava Fly-By
6am. The alarm comes far too soon, but there’s no time for indulging in a lazy rise. My first thoughts are of the weather though by now I’d resigned myself to the fact that it wasn’t going to play nicely. I convinced myself that some brutal weather would actually make the Tour more glorious but here and now I was questioning that and I was full of hope as I drew back the curtains. The trees were leaning over at crazy angles. Bugger.
The night before I’d packed away as much as I could but left a selection of kit out, waiting to see what the weather would be like. I went for fleecy Nanoflex knee warmers under full Nanoflex tights. It was a struggle choosing between the new Gabba-style PH Tempest jersey or a jersey and jacket combination. Given the rain and the strong winds I opted for the full jersey and jacket set up. It was going to be cold out there. Luckily we had the huge advantage of Justin tagging us in the support car, so I could treat myself to being over-dressed for the cold start safe in the knowledge that I could pare it down later. We were also lucky to have Al driving with us for the first two hours pointing his SLR in our direction for some of the great shots below.
Breakfast was demolished in short order and it was back to the room for final packing and one last power-to-weight session on the porcelain throne. The chain was lubed, tyres and brakes checked. I packed my food box for the day and then wobbled my way down to the lobby with my bike and luggage.
In our tired state there was quite a bit of faffing all around and it was almost 8am when we finally rolled out of the sheltered reception area to pick up the Tour route on the A59. Given the forecast we’d elected to skip the optional 25km loop that would’ve maintained the official stage distance. Today was clearly going to be tough enough already. The first kilometre took us north on some downhill roads out of Harrogate and I got my first taste of the strength of the westerly crosswind. On those deep Mavic rims it was frankly terrifying at anything above 25kph and the descent out of Harrogate was quite unpleasant. It actually came as a relief to turn the first corner and point it into the 30mph wind. The sense of relief faded soon enough.
The next 25km was the toughest riding I have ever experienced. We rode in the tightest of formations and buried ourselves against the wind and driving rain. At times we struggled to reach 30kph downhill, the wind was so strong, but we knew this couldn’t last forever and eventually we’d turn southwards and into the crosswinds again. I swapped my jacket for a rain cape as the rain got heavier but even though it’s cut so close the wind was strong enough to make me ditch that soon after. So I ditched everything for just the Tempest jersey, which is truly painted on and coped superbly with the worst the Dales could throw at us.
The signs warn us that Blubberhouses (301m) is imminent. 1.8km at an average gradient of 6.1%. On paper this category four climb is the easiest of the day’s nine officially categorised climbs (there are 15 serious climbs in total) but perhaps not in these conditions. The early slopes did provide some shelter from the wind and created the bizarre scenario where a 6% slope felt easier than the flatter stuff before. That effect faded as we climbed higher towards the summit at 300m.
The descent came almost unnoticed, averaging just 25kph into the wind. At the bottom we finally turned southwards, into the shelter of some trees and instantly it felt like I’d been given an e-bike. Such was the relief to be in still conditions and capable of a decent pace again that I pressed on at a good lick of speed in search of somewhere in Addingham to regroup and warm ourselves, just 30km into our day.
After 30 minutes of warming our hands on hot chocolates and stuffing our bellies on parkin and pork pies we squelched off to Keighley. Many of the climbs on the stage weren't categorised for the Tour de France, and with so many big climbs still to come we tried not to give them much attention ourselves. Perspectives were beginning to shift. We reached the Cote d'Oxenhope Moor and turn left to pass along a reservoir. We use the short descent to build some good speed, hoping to carry it into the climb, but we hit the 25% ramp at the start and ground to a halt so abruptly that we were left struggling to change down quickly enough.
The climb was dramatic, punctuated with several brutally sharp ramps to sap your strength, making even the easier pitches in between that much more difficult. The weather hadn't changed its mood either.
The descent was good fun but I almost came undone. A tractor appeared in the distance, heading away from me but taking up the full width of the narrow lane, tightly flanked by drystrone walls. I eased the brakes on and then, when nothing much happened, I stopped easing and starting wrenching on them. The Exalith braking surface on the Mavic rims, combined with dual pivot Ultegra calipers is amazing in the dry, but in the wet… not so much. As I hurtled closer to the tractor I could see the driver worriedly fixed on his mirror - he was already going flat out. Two pipes poked out behind him and I was between these, no more than a metre from the body of the thing, when I finally scrubbed enough speed to avoid a crash. That shrunk my appetite for any high-speed shenanigans until the roads dried up!
Fortunately the weather was starting to improve as we dropped down into Hebden Bridge along a busier, swoopier stretch of road. Despite the rivers of rainwater on the sides of the road the descent had good enough visibility to open the taps up and we rolled into the pretty village of Hebden Bridge overtaking the traffic as we did. Three Cheshire Cat grins arrived at a tea shop for a spot of lunch but we sobered up when we realised it had taken us five and a half hours to cover just 64km and we still had most of the climbing ahead of us.
The profile from here on was either up or down, which meant we were usually spread out across the route riding at our own paces and regrouping often. Martin and Tony set off towards Cragg Vale while I gave myself a bit more time to thaw my feet out - it took an hour of massaging them to regain feeling in my heels.
Strava ranks this as a category 3 climb but Cragg Vale was uncategorised climbs in the Tour de France. Climbing 300m at 3% for 8.6km is a serious climb on cold stiff post-lunch legs but the joy on cresting the summit was doubled when we realised we'd be turning east and getting our first taste of a cross-tailwind. We crossed the Cote de Ripponden and grabbed another coffee in Ripponden village.
We had the Cote de Greetland to deal with but all attention was focused on Holme Moss, the lumpiest lump of the stage. By now I was feeling strong and gaining confidence in my climbing. Martin and Tony set off and I hung back to try and time a simultaneous arrival at the top of Holme Moss to avoid anybody waiting in the cold for too long. I gave chase through the maze of seriously steep residential roads out of Greetland and along some major roads into and through Huddersfield.
It's an 18km climb from Huddersfield to the top of Holme Moss which starts gradually and then ramps up violently at Holme Firth with 5km to go. I passed Martin at the side of the road just before Holme Firth and shouted to see if he was OK. He said he was and with Justin not far behind in the support car I concentrated on trying to reel Tony in.
From Holme Firth the climb rises to 521m at an average gradient of 7.1% over 4.7km. Those numbers a worthless though. Most of the early part of the climb was comfortably into double digits. I gritted my teeth thinking that the rest of the climb must ease off if the average is 7.1% but I was wrong. The last thing you want to see when you're looking at your Garmin and counting down the metres climbed to 521m is a descent. Several times I lost elevation and then cursed as the gradient went back up past 10%… 12%… 15%. As the view opened up I still couldn't see Tony which made we doubt how hard I was working, despite suffering hard. There were two occasions on Holme Moss - the only times during the Tour - where I thought I might have to stop, that I wasn't able to climb this hill in one hit. I had to dig very deep into my Rule 5 reserves to stay upright and press on. With 150m climbing to go I reset my mental climbing counter and decided I had one 'Westerham Hill' left to go. There were a family of Japanese tourists near the final set of bends and they expressed their respect for my efforts. OK, it wasn't quite the thousands that carpeted this hill for the Grand Depart but they were encouraging me and I felt an obligation to rise to their expectations of the stoic cycling warrior. I'm pretty sure they were the difference in getting me to the top at that pace without stopping. That and desperately trying to chase down Tony. It makes me wonder how incredible it must have been for the pros to be cheered on by all those people. The hairs are standing up just writing this.
Justin was waiting at the top but it turned out Tony had taken a wrong turn somewhere in Huddersfield and I'd nipped past him without realising. I'm grateful for that really because I don't think I could have pushed so hard with out that challenge. It breaks The Rules but I'd earned a cheesy trophy photo. I rested the bike against the motor and jumped in the passenger seat to eat, drink and rest a little. The wind was still quite violent and blew the bike to the ground. Given how much I'd suffered coming up I was now thinking of Martin and Tony and how they'd fare, especially as Martin had pulled up just before Holme Firth. This stage caught out many of the pros during the Tour and my Icelandic ironman friends tried this stage last year (only this stage) and reported back that it broke them too. A few minutes later and Tony appeared on the final slopes, looking far too fresh.
From the top the view stretches out for quite some way and I was getting more worried when we still couldn't see Martin anywhere. There was no need to worry though. We didn't see him coming but he appeared not far behind Tony, stubbornly spinning away in his metronomic style, giving the sense that he could've simply carried on at the same pace for another few hundred vertical metres.
That was the big one. It was behind us. We still had a lot of climbing to do but there was just 55km to go and the weather was improving quickly too. I gave the guys a few minutes and then got myself ready for the descent I'd been looking forward to for the last few months. There was a crosswind but it was consistent rather than anything too gusty and the roads were dry which meant I had confidence in the brakes again. Justin rolled out of the car park behind me and we set off downhill towards Sheffield.
I'd not been moving long before the front wheel started to wobble, getting stronger and stronger. Justin tells me we were doing around 40mph at this point and the stab of adrenalin it gave me sent everything into slow motion. I remembered the recent article in one of the cycling magazines about this wheel oscillation and trying to understand the science behind it. There was no known explanation but I was racking my brains trying to remember what advice they gave if you ever experienced it. I tried the brakes and that didn't help much. I tried going loose and that didn't help much either. The wobble grew and I was fairly sure I wasn't going to be able to rescue this but I thought, at least there's no drystone walls here so if I can just avoid hitting the tarmac… Everything happened over the space of what I believe is around 10-15 seconds and it faded just as quickly as it came on. Somehow I was still upright but I still had a huge descent to tackle and I'd lost my bottle. I rode the brakes, terrified about catching another cross-wind, but then the smell of burning rubber had me loosening up again. The wobble returned but I was going much slower this time so it was managed with a little braking. It wasn't until after the descent that Justin had the insight to check the wheels and found that the skewer needed tightening after the bike toppled at the summit. It was nothing to do with crosswinds!
- Justin has this episode on camera. I'll update this when it's available.
Martin had gone on ahead and so Tony and I were riding together, taking it easy into Sheffield to recover for a glorious effort up Jenkin Road. It seemed to take ages to finally arrive but when it did I wished Tony good luck and launched into an effort. This road is crazy. Crazy in the best possible way. Any road that needs a handrail for pedestrians is always going to be a bit special. The route planners were touched by genius when they put this at the end of this stage, with 400km and 7,000m of climbing in the legs. I tried to pace myself and was well measured in the early part of the climb. Justin was poised with the camera on the steepest part of the road (30%) and that was all the motivation I needed to step it up a gear. About two thirds up it eases to 20-22% and I decided I should give whatever was left. It was almost certainly adrenalin and endorphins clouding my judgement but I felt I could've given even more on those top slopes.
Tony and I regrouped just after the descent and rolled towards the finish, chatting about our cat-and-mouse tactics and how we'd outfox each other for the sprint finish. Martin was comfortably ahead of us and waiting roadside just before the finish line, which we were struggling to identify. The Garmin proclaimed we'd crossed the line already and then we just kind of stumbled across the hotel and the ride was done.
That was it. We'd tamed the beast. After what we'd just done stage 3 was just cast aside as an afterthought, a recovery ride. As far as we were concerned we’d cracked the Tour and it was with a huge sense of pride that we sunk some beers and pizza and flicked through the photos and videos of the day.
The luxuries of a supported ride!johno_78 said:
I was thinking there was a gap in the write up between Holme Moss and Jenkins road, described as 'small climbs'. To put it into perspective, I got to the top of Holme Moss after 9 hours and it was 3 hours of almost constant riding between them for me. Every single hill was probably tougher than the steepest/longest on stage 3. For a masochist like myself, it was arguably the best day I have spent on a bike.
More of this after the stage 3 write-up, but the craziest thing for me was the total perspective shift the Tour gave me. To be able to disregard all those late climbs is quite odd when a week before any one of them would have been bigger than anything on my local routes. The biggest hill on stage 3 was Sewards End out of Saffron Walden – 1.2km at 3% average – which wouldn't have even registered on stages 1 or 2. Hell, the official profile even ignored some category 3 hills on stage 2!johno_78 said:
I thought i'd wait for the Darren & Tony a few hundred metres before the finish and we'd all come in together. 7 minutes later they come into view and sprint for the line before I've even managed to clip in! Cheers lads! Strangely, i'm not last on that strava segment though.
I felt rotten about that once I'd realised 
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