Stage 16: Carcassonne to Luchon

After a rest day staying in a mining camp chic style hotel (with 600,000 people flooding Carcassonne for its famous Bastille Day fireworks, it was all that was available) we hauled ourselves back into the bike.

Things have gotten to the point now where I have done so much that I don't question whether or not I will finish a stage. The anxiety about making it to Paris is gone, replaced with a sometimes weary resolution to just keep pedalling.

To continue the theme the first 50-100kms of the day are all about warming up, and really what better way to do this than with a couple of Cat 4 climbs. They are but mere bumps on the horizon to me now.

It was hard to believe that only a few days before we had a bunch of cyclists with borderline hypothermia, now in the Pyranees we had temperatures of above 30C, which in the sun, on tarmac, climbing a hill is pretty warm. Thankfully the heat is treating me okay, and thankfully our mostly British cohort has not melted away.

This was a long stage, and to counter the sleepiness that my nurofen + codeine + not sufficient sleep cocktail provides I found 4x cans of coke, 2x ice creams and goodness knows how much other food kept me moving.

The crowning glory of the day was Port de Bals, a relentless HC climb that came at the end of the day, as just kept going and going and going. But what a place to spend a few hours, surrounded by the amazing snow capped Pyrenees mountains, passing some of the happiest cows on earth (no wonder French cheese is so good!).

Then, the summit, and descent. After days of descending in the wet with extreme trepidation it was time to let fly, with the sun setting into the beautiful village of Luchon.

We rolled in at about 9:30pm, and luckily had the foresight to send Caroline ahead of us. She managed to get the room and bags sorted, so that it was only a matter of hauling myself from the bike to the massage table to the shower and bed.

It was a long and hard day, but one of the best I've had on the bike.

BVS Update

There are a number of people who are either bemused, or slightly embarrassed by the BVS discussion, but I know there are enough of you interested to warrant an update!

Now, there are a few components to BVS. 

1. Saddle discomfort

This is what I had mostly encountered pre-tour, and is pretty much a factor of sitting your entire body weight on a few square inches of saddle. 

Most of this can be solved by a good saddle (which seems to be a matter of trial and error), saddle position, and a certain amount of toughening up.

But toughening up. You can toughen up your sit bones, which might not be used to having that weight on them for an extended period. But your sensitive V-skin is not going to toughen up.

2. V-skin discomfort

Two things to worry about here. Mashing up of the V-area, and numbness. Pins and needles down there should send you shopping for a new saddle or a dramatic position change.

Mashing that leads to blisters or serious chafing should also be remedied by saddle change or position.

3. Saddle sores

It took several days for this to become an issue, but ouch. I am an aficionado of chafing, but saddle sores are another thing altogether. They are irritated hair follicles that look like pimples.

You do not want broken skin in this area, so squeezing is a definite no-no. Clean shorts (no knickers) daily, liberal application of chamois cream (or Savlon or Sudocreme) every stop and overnight after showering are key.

My top tips for preventing and managing BVS:

- Get a saddle and saddle position that you are reasonably comfortable with. You need some long rides of several hours to really find out if it works.

- Don't wear underwear with your shorts. It took me a while to realise this when I first started cycling, but the less seams the better.

- Chamois cream works. I managed to scab grab some Assos brand from a departing rider, and the fresh menthol feel gets you going at 5am and provides some protection. Liberal reapplication at every break is a must.

- Antiseptic creams (nappy rash creams such as Savlon and Sudocreme) are you friend. Shower and liberal application should see you ready to face another day.

- Double shorts. When times are tough, double up the shorts. I was sceptical, but when things are getting ugly it makes a big difference.

Some photos

Ben, feed stop driver man, and witness to my mental wobble and emotional breakdown. A good hugger who helped me through a few hard days.

In the interests of full disclosure, this is what a Dugong looks like after full emotional meltdown while defrosting in the van.

Caroline and Katrine-Mari. Raring to go the morning after getting through a day in hell.

I'll be back to conquer you in fairer weather you bastard Alps.

Stage 14: Grenoble to Risoul

The day that I snapped. We woke in our ski apartments on top of the previous nights HC climb to cold and rain. My cheery demeanour was slipping, with the thought of the 20km bonus decent to get us to the start of the course.

Having discovered the previous day that my long gloves seriously hamper my braking ability when going downhill on the drops I was left wearing every piece of clothing I bought, and fingerless gloves.

Riding through the foothills of The Alps, this countryside was just amazing, and some brief periods of not raining were great. Feed stop 1 went by: miserable cold, and an every man for himself setup. Feed stop 2 was halfway up our first Cat 1 of the day: a climb that topped out at over 2000m. 

It took forever to get to, and then instead of the sweet relief of a gentle decent, it was a bit a of a nightmare. Pissing down rain my sanity was slowly ebbing away. I knew feed stop 3 was at the bottom, but as I cycled through yet another village and then another and another I broke down and started to cry. 

10km of sobbing later I rolled into the shitty car park that was FS3, which I'm sure would have been quite nice on a sunny day. Ben (one of the tour staff, who are all absolute legends) helped me off my bike with a hug and bundled me into the heated cab of the truck.

Maybe this should have been a more difficult choice- I wasn't injured, and I wasn't shaking uncontrollably (as many others were), but I was not going to get back on the bike. As we drove the rest of the course I knew I'd done the right thing for me. The ascents are one thing, but the fear of descending in the cold and rain, your steering having the wobbles because you're shaking so bad, well I could be tough enough for that on the day.

To everybody who finished the stage, from Caroline who was in one of the front packs showing the boys how it's done, to Katrine-Mari, and Ivo and Ingo who slogged it through to the bitter end, hats off. That was a physical and mental challenge that had to be seen to be believed.

Stage 13: Saint Etienne to Chamrousse

Our first HC climb loomed at the end of the stage, waiting after we'd warmed up on a Cat 3, Cat 1 and close to 200km.

The morning was really bad, for the first time I couldn't put my happy face on, not even a pretend one (I'm pretty rubbish at the pretend face anyway). I'd crossed the threshold from low discomfort, through to medium and into the pain zone. I had no power in the legs, and being the sun lover I am, another cold rainy morning wasn't helping emotionally or physically to get the quads fired up.

I finally caved at the 80km stop, and in consultation with Dr Col (who is the pack doctor, who just steamrolls his bike through the course every day like a knife through butter, despite or perhaps because of his impressive Scottish stature) I had a panadol, 2 x nurofen and panadeine forte. Along with some physio, a hug and a can of coke (with some additional concrete).

Once again I now mention the kindness of others. Through the morning I was sheltered by a group which was principally made up of my three Germans (super domestiques Florian, Ivo and Ingo), and had my ladies Caroline and Katrine-Mari. Ivo helped me over the hills (on the "flat" part of the course) and then towed me back into the rest of the group.

But the HC, what a bastard. Katrine-Mari who had shot ahead took some time picking wild raspberries and other such activities so that we could climb together. With about three hours of climbing, at least half in the mist and rain, it was a tough slog. But compared to my flat morning spent in the hurt locker it was surprisingly manageable (especially with my patented zig-zag cycle technique on the steeper parts). Just shy of 12 hours cycling. A massive day. Just f-ing massive.

Stage 11: Besancon to Oyannax Stage 12: Bourg-en-Bresse to Saint-Etienne

In theory these stages should have been pretty manageable. A bit of riding on the flat, with some Cat 3 and 4 hills thrown in. And the riding was surprisingly manageable, apart from the post-rest day shock to the body (your legs screaming at you: what is this nonsense!?!? I thought we'd finished).

But then there was the rain. Both days it rained pretty much all day. It's pretty hard to stay dry on the bike, especially with the added challenge of sweating on the uphill and getting quite cold on the downhill. It turns out that the merino base layers and fluro rain jacket I threw in the bag at the last minute have become a staple part of my tour wardrobe!

Another event of note for these few days, my first magic tape episode. The tape promotes oxygen flow and reduces load in the areas it's applied to, so my quads and right calf have pretty much been mummified with the stuff!

Scatter brain

Sorry my updates are going to be a bit scatty for these next few stages. We've been without wifi for a few nights, and although I thought I'd discovered long days and exhaustion, this past few days have been something else.