The TGV was rammed with people heading to Paris to watch the final. In fact our train had been delayed by the riders departing on a train before ours. The journey was swifter than expected but a good opportunity to catch up on some sleep.

Arriving in Paris we made our way to join the growing crowds on the Champs Elysees. Next to the river Livestrong had setup an area for people to write messages in chalk on the pavement. I had to laugh as one of the guards crossed out “Contador is the best”.

Walking up to the Arc de Triomphe I was taken aback partly by the number of spectators but also the price of a beer – 11 euros! From the Arc you get a stunning view back down the course. If I were to go again I’d use the locals’ trick of tacking step ladders to get a view over the crowd.

We eventually found a viewing spot a couple of hundred yards up from the finish. The anticipation grew, as did the heat, as we watched the riders nearing the city on the big screen. Their arrival was preceded by a roar from the crowd.

For the seven laps I watched them come up the one side, wait, and then see them fly past me on the near side. In the initial stages I, and others, were counting down the seconds that the breakaway held. Time flew by as I tried my best to get some good photos. At least if I missed them once I wouldn’t have too long to wait until they came around again!

It was definitely something worth seeing and although I didn’t get a great view of the podium I did feel like I was part of the event.

I did this mainly because I still hadn’t explored the Ardeche Gorge but also the thought or another long day before Paris didn’t appeal. It wasn’t long before I was doubting this option as the head wind down the valley ground me down. At one point I started shouting out in anger.

I arrived in town just before the crowds swelled and managed to get a spot a couple of meters from the start line. The start was further back than where we started from, in the main avenue.

With the bike locked up I setup camp. Next to me a French family were intrigued by my Etape jersey. I think they confused me for someone as they asked me for my autograph. Space got a little tight as people rushed in for the caravan but a line of bushes behind me helped me keep my spot.

After the caravan all the pretty people strolled up and down the start with this bags of goodies. Then a few riders stretched their legs. Hincapie stopped right in front of me.

Just after 11 the riders made their way up to the line. The crowd went wild as people scrambled for photos. My position was superb and easily got shots of the front row. Most people were cheering for Contador so I called out for Bradley Wiggins. I told him not to worry about Ventoux; as I’d managed it so he should fly up.

As the peloton departed I spotted Armstrong further back, chatting with fellow riders. The whole start seemed a very relaxed event but once they were off you could see their faces change.

I took advantage of the closed roads as I headed out of town. Part of it was the way I came so the wind became my friend as it pushed me along at a pace. This brought the smile back to my face. A 15k climb through Bidon to the Ardeche Gorge took it away again. It was well worth it though as I ate my lunch on the roadside looking down the gorge.

The ride back was tougher than I expected as the road rolled along the top of the Gorge. I ran out of water but found a fountain in a small village. A local was filling bottles and told it was good to drink.

Back in Pont St Espirit I found a bar just in time to see the riders start climbing Ventoux. They made it look far easier than I did. As I watched them I felt as though I knew every curve and rise in the road. Unfortunately Wiggins faded at the end but he did himself proud.

We arrived in the midday heat and soon found ourselves among the throngs of supporters. Walking the final kilometer we took plenty of photos and perused the stalls. It was and interesting finish; crossing the river there was a long straight before a sharp right onto the final 500 meters.

After some food we took up station on the outside corner of the 500 meter mark. I was literally hanging off it. An hour of standing in the baking sun preceded the publicity caravan. As soon as the floats started coming through the crowds jostled for position. With my reach I did a good job of getting freebies, caps and the like, as they were thrown out.

The end of the caravan was rushed through before the team coaches arrived. The sky clouded over and rain started to fall. As I adjusted my camera for the dark light the breakaway, including the top riders, whistled through. I only saw the back of them. I did get to see the remainder of the peloton but was a little disappointed.

Will be better prepared for Ventoux tomorrow.

The ride out was a little longer than expected due to our efforts at reading large scale maps and not spotting signs. On the topic of navigation we’ve found the easiest way to navigate in Provence is to follow a list of all the towns on your route, road numbers and signage vary wildly.

By the time we go to Bedoin we’d covered 64k, 14 more than planned. The last few were up hill and the heat in the valley wore me down. I was quick to douse myself in the fountain at the top of town.

Before setting off we soaked helmets and gloves in the fountain. They soon dried out as the sun pounded us on the lower slopes. I was dreading the forest section but this time I had the knowledge of what lay ahead.

The pace was slower but the rhythm better. A small cleat adjustment had removed some pain and I felt more comfortable being seated to climb. The forest was still a daunting proposition but I tried not to think about it. Before I knew it we’d made it to the 10k mark. I thought about stopping to remove my helmet but felt good enough to keep going. And going keep going I did, past where I’d cramped, all the way to Chateux Reynard at 16k.

After a brief stop for water we set off on the final 6k. The legs felt good and without signs of crap so I upped the pace. I didn’t feel the need to stop and managed to muster up a sprint for the line from the final hairpin.

This time I made it up in a couple of minutes over 2 hours. I was happy with this but even happier to not have been hindered by cramp.

We descended back the way we climbed. As usual I was in my element and let it rip. The wooded section is much more fun downhill especially when you’re overtaking Gendarme!

Back at Bedoin we refilled our bottles at the fountain and started heading back. We nearly stopped to watch Armstrong’s time trial but time wasn’t on our side.

The heat in the valleys, reflecting off the long straight road, started to get to me. By the time we reached Orange I was hitting the wall. A short break at a supermarket helped me recharge. I was even given a free banana as I’d forgotten to weight and ticket it.

To save some time we reviewed the map and spotted a route that would miss out a large dog leg. We found the initial turning but from there it all went wrong. Looking for a minor road we ended up on a gravel path by the river. We followed this for some 15k and all the way I thought a tyre would blow. Eventually we found a bridge and made it back to the hotel as diner was being served.

In total we covered 175k, a distance comparable to the Etape, leaving me feeling pretty tired.

Our group has expanded to include a couple of other riders. Between us we decided to visit Pont du Gard, a Roman Aquaduct about 40k south of the hotel.

The ride down had a couple of long climbs but at managable gradients. It was well worth the ride as we skipped the car parks and rode through the crowds to the river. The aquaduct was impressive, it’s three tiers of arches effortlessly support the tons of rock that span the valley.

After a few pictures we locked up the bikes, stripped down to shorts and jumped in the river. I opted for the high jump off the rocks and found the cool water a refreshing blast.

We swam and larked about for a couple of hours before hitting the road once again. Taking a slight diversion we rode through the cobbled streets of a castled hill top town.

The return journey took half the time as a rare tail wind helped push us home. Mount Ventoux stands pround and drew my eye whenever visible from the road.

I ended the day doing a short run with Mark along the river. The waterside part of town is the oldest and spreads out from bridge of Pont St-Esprit. It provides a stunning backdrop to the river as the evening sunlight.

top of Mont Ventoux: 02:26:23

place (M/W): 2982
place (brutto): 2982
place (net): 2506
place (ag): 218
time total (netto): 07:41:17
time total (brutto): 08:14:25

Who’d have thought that twelve months on I’d be back in the throngs of cyclists, willingly about to set forth on a stage of the Tour De France.

No matter what else the stage offered I knew every rider, including James Cracknell, would be thinking of Mount Ventoux – The Giant of Provence.

At 7 the race began. At 7.40 our pen set off. Around 8 we made it to the start line after working our way through the boulevard of previously occupied pens. I felt nervous about the early stages as the roads I’d seen into town were narrow. I used the space on the bridge leaving town to cut past some slower riders. This was the last time I saw Mark or Alex until the finish.

Putting my head down and music on I started working my way through the packs. Based on last year’s performance I’d decided to go out harder and use the pack. You’d think it’d be easy finding a pack to ride with with all those competitors in front of you but it’s not. More often than not you start creeping you way forward and end up popping out the front and having to bridge the gap to the next group. This year I was much more effective at finding cover and minimised the amount of exposed riding whenever I could.

The Col d’Ey was the first of the noteworthy climbs. Its gentle gradient suited me and I settled into a rhythm. Breaking out into the sun the roads narrowed and I found myself getting caught behind groups. This got to me in the end and I used a little extra energy to spin past them. The descent turned into chaos as riders crashed on the narrow roads. It appeared to be arround the time that the fast riders from one starting pen caught the slower ones from the previous pen. There were several manic waves to slow down and I saw several people in the ditches. The organisers did a superb job and ambulances or motorcycles were never far behind.

Reaching the Salut water stop I felt pretty good and even debated riding straight through but the crowds got in the way.

Col de Notre-Dame des Abeilles was a lovely climb. Using the hairpins I accelerated then span the legs until the next one. Best of all was the wide, loose descent where I picked up some serious speed. However every second of fun was over shadowed by the knowledge that I was decending to the bottom of the Ventoux climb.

At the final food stop in Bedoin I psyched myself up for the task ahead. Crossing the start of the climb the summit looked a long way away. The first couple of kilometers were gentle but on a bend I felt the first tinges of cramp. This sent my mind racing and it took some time to settle down again. Once I hit the wooded area the real climb began. It pitched up quickly and as I slowed I noticed the increase in temperature. For a heavily wooded mountain side there was little place to hide from the sun. I later heard that temperatures reached 40C.

At the 10k mark, half way, I gave myself a psychological and physical break by stopping and taking off my helmet. By now cramps had started to set in and as I got underway once more I varied my climbing style to alleviate whichever muscle was cramping. Steadily the number of people breaking and stopping in front of me increased. The sight of people resting in the shade bolstered my resolve not to stop. The Chatlet Reynard water stop came just as both my hamstrings and quads cramped simultaneously. I hobbled off the bike and doused myself in water.

With the famous moonscape of the last 6k now in full view I felt determined to give it my all. Feeling slightly refreshed I set off round the hairpin and up the slope. The legs were still strong and I soon caught and overtook people who’d previously passed my. Unfortunately cramps were now completely set in and I rode as far as I could before the pain became to much. I managed to make it to the last kilometer stopping only two or three times but each took time for the cramp to subside. I gave the final stretch my all. Rounding the final hairpin the kick to the line almost finished me off. It was an amazing feeling to cross the line but moments later the adrenaline and thoughts that kept me going drained away. I found a space to collapse and sat in wonder at the landscape in front of me. I was about to text Mark and let him know that I’d finished when he appeared in front of me.

I found the descent from the summit to the finish village hard as I was completely drained. After eating we rested and waited for Alex before heading down the rest of the mountain. By now the legs had recovered and this turned into a great warm down ride; not to mention the thirll of another long descent.

Back at the coach we bumped into James Cracknell again and also Chris Boardman. Alex recounted a story of him walking past Boardman on the slope of Ventoux.

The ride took around an hour and a half, following the Rhone and into a fair head wind. It took as a while to find our destination as the directions weren’t that good.

The registration village was just round the corner. It consisted of the usual manufacturer’s tents plus some local nougat sellers. We made the rounds and collected as much free stuff as possible.

The afternoon turned into an episode of Faulty Towers. Our lunch took an age to come and we ended up leaving without eating. We had to move our bikes from the lockup. The coach got turned around half way into journey home as some guy had forgotten his bike.

We got back just in time for a dip in the pool and some basic food. I say basic because it wasn’t what I was expecting for a pre race meal.

Not much of note on the journey but it served to catch up on reading and sleep.

Nearing our destination we got our first glimpse of Mont Ventoux. It dominates the landscape from every angle. It’s white tower visible against the blue sky. It both insipired and humbled me.

This weekend I took the opportunity to combine a visit to my Grandparents with some hill climbing. The live not far from the Long Mynd, a hill the feature in the forthcoming Wild Edric sportive. I warmed up by riding up and down Cardingmill Valley before taking on the Long Mynd approach from Church Stretton.

I remembered the approach from walks in my childhood but had forgotten just how long it goes on for. In total I guess its a good 2 miles from flat to flat sections with the first 3/4 mile as steep as anything I’ve climbed before. A coulee of walkers heading down looked must have thought I was having a heart attack as I hauled myself up. The conditions didn’t help, having just rained my real wheel was spinning and I was forced to sit even though it felt too hard.

The summit makes it worth while as the views over the Marches is outstanding. The road running along the top was bumpy enough to not be able to site and the descent by the gliding club was a hair raising 25%.

On my ride I noted that the road surfaces in Shropshire are pretty rough, in particular the A489, plus the wind whips round in all directions. Still it just works to make me stronger and the legs feel like they’re ready for the mountains. Well that’s what I’m telling myself anyway!