Training hills - Hendon, Mill Hill, Barnet

Let's be honest, North London is hardly endowed with fearsome climbs. Even nearby Herts only throws up the occasional rise longer than 2 or 3 km.
This means when it comes to climbing, I often go for hill repeats, which are a great way of learning how your body copes with constant climbing, whilst allowing for a little bit of recovery after each ascent.

I thought I would share some images of the few little hills that I regularly train on when I don't want to have to travel too far to get some gradient in my legs. I will try and put up some better images another time, but unfortunately this evening I was pushed for light, as autumn brings the sunset far too early.

We start in Hendon, with Greyhound Hill:

From the bottom of Greyhound hill as it starts to gently climb

Greyhound hill is probably about 550m in length, so short but sweet. It starts very gently, rolling uphill at about 2% or 3% for 300m, then it starts to curve upwards for the last couple of hundred metres, rising through sections of 4-6%, before it reaches its steepest slope right at the top, probably about 8-10% at the very maximum around the bend, before flattening out by the Greyhound pub.

About 10 minutes riding away we get to Bittacy Hill, in Mill Hill East:

Bittacy Hill is probably about a kilometre in length, with a similar anatomy to Greyhound hill. It starts gently rising from Mill Hill East station. This photo is taken from just past the traffic island where it ramps up to about 3-4%, which continues for a few hundred metres.





Just like Greyhound Hill, the steepest part of Bittacy Hill is right at the top, where it probably ramps up to 10-12%. It's always fun to look back at the top and watch the double decker buses almost come to a standstill as they struggle up. Here we are at the top of the steepest part, looking back down. The road carries on rising very gently as false flat before panning out into the beautifully flat Ridgeway, all the way to our next hill.




The next little rise is Highwood Hill, somewhere inbetween Mill Hill, Totteridge and Barnet, which rises up towards another pub (see a theme developing here?) the Rising Sun:

Highwood Hill, typically busy with school parents

Highwood Hill is very short and sweet, no longer than 400m and probably no steeper than 10-12% at its very very steepest, again right at the top. However, this photo is very representative of Highwood Hill on a typical day. Busy! I always have to navigate my way through a traffic jam on my way up, which often involves coming to a standstill behind one lousy driver or another. Never used for hill repeats but often provides a little sting in the legs as I try and sprint up at the end of a long ride.

From Highwood Hill, I turn right, then left along Hendon Wood lane, at the end of which is another 700-800m rise:

Hendon Wood Lane is an enjoyable little climb which takes you up to Arkley. It is never really that steep, probably 6-8% at most, and it is really nice to sprint to the top in the hope that there is a green light and you can take a fast sweeping 90 degree right hander onto the fast and flat Barnet Road. Again though, I rarely use Hendon Wood Lane for hill repeats, it isn't really steep enough. It is far far more enjoyable going the other way, where its shallow bends and consistent gradient make for a very short but exhilarating descent towards a very sharp bend.

By far my favourite little climb in the area is Milespit Hill. It looks about 600-800m long on the map but I have clocked it at exactly 1km. It starts at Westminster Cemetery, with its steepest ramp right at the beginning, a section of about 200-300m at what must be 7-8%, seen below:

The first ramp up tree-lined Milespit Hill

At the top of this first ramp is a false summit, as the gradient drops to around 4% for 100m or so, before then ramping up again to about 6% through a shallow S bend, right up to a beautiful little green and a pond at the top of the hill.

The leafy road climbs through an S bend

Then summits at a pond by a little church

Though again, not particularly long, steep or hard, I really liked this road and used it as my hill of choice when I was training for the alps. It is only about 10mins riding from my house, yet it feels like it is right out in the country. On a beautiful summer's day, it even has an almost alpine feel as it is lined with trees and log fencing and the road is so immaculate and traffic free that it could be French! In any case, 20 times up here leaves you feeling pretty exhausted and there's no pub at the top!

When I'm looking for a really tough climb I head over to Highgate for Swains Lane, which needs no introduction as it recently made Simon Warren's immensely popular '100 Greatest Cycling Climbs', and is a proper climb in the middle of the city, hitting ramps of 15%. Here's a link to the book on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/100-Greatest-Cycling-Climbs-Cyclists/dp/0711231206

Club ride with the Gregarios Superclub Ciclista

Sunday 26th September

Cycling clubs are a hard thing to come by in the London suburbs. Makes sense really, there isn't an awful lot of riding to be done on residential roads full of traffic and pedestrians, so clubs tend to form on the outskirts, in the home counties.

That's not to say London clubs don't exist of course, there's Finsbury Park CC, London Dynamo, Southgate CC to name a few. Even so, those clubs begin their club rides out in the countryside. So really, the name is just a name.

I've been looking for a club that is friendly, unique, relaxed but with competition available and most importantly close, seeing as from my experiences most fit the former.

I recently stumbled across the Gregarios Superclub Ciclista - whilst watching Eurosport's coverage of the Giro d'Italia actually. Commentator Dave Harmon is a member and occasionally ventures out on a ride with the club who pride themselves on their Italian connection. The celebrity roster doesn't end there either; Paolo Bettini is the club's honourary member. I didn't really know how to react to this, I thought it perhaps slightly tongue in cheek, but was assured that Bettini's management team had in fact been in contact with the club on numerous occasions.

That said, it is not something the club takes overly seriously; in fact it fits in perfectly with what seems like an extremely laid back, fun and approachable ethos.

I'd been meaning to head out with the Gregarios for many months, but Summer holidays and weekend breaks had got in the way. Not anymore. As the winter rains and headwinds began I decided now was the time to pick up my cycling activity again. Of course.

Meeting at 9.15am every Sunday morning at the Alpine restaurant in Stanmore (ideal for me, a 30 min warm up ride away), the Gregarios head out on rides around Herts, the Chilterns and occasionally further afield. For my first ride, we headed off in the direction of Great Missenden, intending to cover about 65-70 miles of reasonable hilly roads.

The pace was steady, somewhere between 25-28 km/h for the first hour or so as we made our way out of the suburbs, then Watford and into the countryside. The ride was conversational as everyone got to know each other, although the entire time we were riding into a fierce headwind, meaning it wasn't quite as easy as it could have been. After a half an hour stop at the halfway house, a pleasant cafe somewhere near Tring, that pace was lifted as we tried to work on perfecting a pace line and a chain gang.

Unfortunately, the way back was marred by terrible road surfaces, meaning too much time was spent concentrating on staying on the bike, and keeping the bike in one piece rather than keeping the pace high. That said we averaged around 35 km/h on the way back and soon found ourselves back at the Bushey arches, which begins a short but sharp climb back up Stanmore Hill to the Alpine.

'Every man for himself here' I was told, as the hill sprint began to the post-ride cafe for one last coffee.

I had totally forgotten how much more alert you have to be riding in a group, always keeping a watchful eye on the wheels in front and to the side, making sure not to overlap, or make any sudden movements. But there is something so enjoyable about the dynamic of a group of cyclists, not to mention having great company when out on the road. I thoroughly enjoyed myself with the Gregarios, and having been out with a couple of clubs think I've finally found one that I will keep going back to. I really love their jersey too, which is always a huge bonus!!

Here's a link to the club website for anyone in the area also interested in trying them out:


http://www.gregarios.co.uk/cycling-clubs/cycling-london-watford-middlesex-herts.html

2010 Road World Championships - The fight for the rainbow jersey

3rd October 2010 - Men's elite road race: Melbourne to Geelong

Cadel Evans wore the jersey with style in 2010

In just over a week, one man will be adorned in all the colours of the rainbow, as he takes his place on the podium as the new road champion of world cycling.

The rainbow jersey is a funny one. Theoretically, you could have had an absolutely useless year, hit form at just the right moment, and in the course of one race become the world champion of cycling, just like that!

Of course the title has to be taken with a pinch of salt. It doesn't carry the same weight as for example, the world champions of football, rugby, or athletics. Those titles are the absolute pinnacle of their sport, fought for over months of qualifying, often weeks of competition, on a level and consistent playing field, and generally always produce a winner worthy of being called the best in the world.

Cycling on the other hand carries many prestigious prizes, for many different types of rider. Some of the best cyclists won't even be taking part on October 3rd, because the parcours doesn't suit them, they don't have the form, or they've simply already achieved their goals for the season. Alberto Contador for example could hardly top winning the Tour de France for the third time, nor would he compromise that goal by attempting to peak again for the World Championships. Also, not many would have argued at the end of last year that Cadel Evans was a better all round bike rider than Contador, but he was nevertheless a very worth world champion.

So why do all world champions adorn their jerseys with rainbow piping for the rest of their career? If it isn't the race itself, what makes the rainbow jersey so prestigious? In my opinion it is the riders who have worn it: Fausto Coppi, Tom Simpson, Eddy Merckx, Bernard Hinault, Greg Lemond, Stephen Roche, Johan Museeuw, Oscar Freire, the list goes on, and on, and on. This is what motivates so many riders year after year to go for one final push, in one of the last but most anticipated days of the season.

Unfortunately, the rainbow jersey has traditionally carried a curse, often damning the winner to an atrocious season the following year. This only serves to illustrate what a fantastic year Cadel Evans had, littered with highlights, and if he is unable to defend his title next week, a feat accomplished by only 5 riders since the competition began in 1927, it will be with some sadness that I watch him give it up.

Funny, given that just over a year ago I couldn't stand the man who was all fists and elbows with reporters at the 2009 Tour de France. In 2010 he has shown he is a rider and a man of real character, if seemingly a little eccentric at times.

His season began strongly, placing 6th at the Tour Down Under, before going even better with a highly consistent 3rd overall at Tirreno-Adriatico. But it was at the Spring Classics that he really began to find his legs, with a strong showing at Amstel Gold and 5th in Liege-Bastogne-Liege, which followed a brilliant win in the Fleche-Wallone. That win called on all the craft and experience attained from 6 previous attempts at the race, as a late surge for the line blew Joaquin Rodriguez and Alberto Contador out of the water.

Cadel Evans, victorious on the Mur de Huy

But it is Evans's two Grand Tours that I will really remember his year in the rainbow for. Although he eventually finished only, 'only', 5th in the Giro, he wore the maglia rosa for a day, won the points jersey, and won what has been touted as one of the best ever stages in a Grand Tour.

As the riders entered Montalcino at the end of stage 7, bloodied, bruised, and drenched to the bone with the wet and mud of the sodden Strade Bianchi, it was Cadel Evans with a typical late surge, reminiscent of his attack at Mendrisio, who took a famous win. He may have looked like the riding dead as he crossed the line but it only made his victory seem all the more epic.

The sight of Evans dragging his bike up the Zoncolan in pursuit of Basso is another memory I will cling to. He seemed to be tearing every sinew, fighting every demon to get to that line. He didn't have the legs but my God did he have the will.

His Tour de France was not quite so successful, eventually finishing 50mins behind Contador in 26th place. It was, nevertheless, with tremendous courage and resilience that he rode on to the end of the race with a fractured elbow. The number of times I saw him fighting to get back onto the leading group, having been dropped on the climbs, is testament to his worth as a world champion.

It wouldn't be crazy to suggest that there is a chance he could retain his title this year. The parcours is tough enough to eliminate a lot of the really fast men, and favours someone punchy and good in the classics, just like Evans. But I think it will be a real strong man who takes victory, and he will have fierce competition from a number of in form rivals.

The 2010 Road World Championship route profile

Everyone's favourite is Philippe Gilbert. He showed fantastic form in the Vuelta, the strongest performance for me being his stage win in Toledo. That finish was not dissimilar to the finish in Geelong, although the final climb in Geelong is shorter and sharper. But the finishing straight was a long drag, just as it will be in Australia. The way Gilbert held off a strong challenge from Tyler Farrar clearly shows he has very good legs on at the moment.

On the basis of that performance however, I wouldn't write off Tyler Farrar. He has proved he can get over a lump or two and still come up with a powerful finish. He is one of a selection of sprinters who could still provide a stern challenge come the end of the race.

Mark Cavendish is another. The Manxman has another extraordinary season, with 5 stage wins in the Tour, 3 in the Vuelta to go with his points jersey, and he seems to be finding top form again just in time to challenge for the rainbow stripes. He also proved he can overcome the bumps when he took a fantastic win in San Remo, 2009. For me though, the course is just too hard. Without a large team around him to pull any attacks back, he'll need to rely on the work of others as I can't see him being able to follow. Hopefully he can prove me wrong.

That leaves a handful of other assorted riders in with a shout: sprinters with strong resistance, like Oscar Freire who is going for a 4th title, even Pozzato; other strong classics riders like Frank Schleck who came into form at the back end of the Vuelta; perhaps even the climbers like Vincenzo Nibali, what a feat that would be on the back of his first Grand Tour.

Two men it could also well be worth keeping an eye are Simon Gerrans and Peter Sagan. The young Slovak had a ferocious first half of the season, taking 2 stages at Paris-Nice, 1 at GP de Romandie, and 2 at the Tour of California. He will be more than ably supported by the Velits brothers and could be a big threat. Gerrans will be on home turf, and though he's had a season marred by illness, he is sure to come to the race in some kind of form and he is the ideal rider for a course like this.


It will come down to how the course is raced. A sprint finish will only be on the cards if the fast men are feeling good on the day, and if their teams have the manpower left to pull back any attacks. I would love to see Mark Cavendish in the rainbow jersey next year, but I get the feeling that once the attacks go, they will go hard, and the course around Geelong is enough to blow the race apart.

I predict a small coming together on the run in to the finish, with one of the quicker strong men taking it in a sprint.

Here's to hoping!

Cycling Caps or Casquettes!

I've recently rediscovered my love for cycling caps, or casquettes as they're called in French. Since the introduction of compulsory helmet wearing in the peloton, you only see cycling caps worn under helmets or not at all, though fortunately they are still worn by some riders when out of the saddle. They serve a whole variety of obvious functions: protection from the sun, rain, heat, cold, sweat absorption, and so on. But more importantly I think they look pretty cool, regardless of the fact that most, no, all of my non-cycling friends and family disagree with me. Here's a look at my collection, minus the Cime de la Bonette one I picked up in Jausiers:

Clockwise from top left : Australian Institute
of Sport, US Postal Service, Lampre, Mapei, Xacobeo
Galicia, AG2R and ONCE in the middle.

I've noticed that they've become a bit of a fashion item among some circles too, particularly the hordes of fixie riders, cycle couriers and East London cyclists. I'm all for it, and I'm definitely going to keep adding to my collection. They're a great way of showing your support for a team without having to splash out on a jersey. My preferred way of wearing them is peak turned up, slightly to the side.

My first century! South West Pro Tour Ride, 175km (108 miles), 3200m ascent

I recently completed my first 100miler at the Pro Tour Ride in the South West. 108 very lumpy miles with 3200m of climbing.

Much is made of achieving your first century in the cycling world, and I was surprised that in 3 years of pretty serious riding it is something I was yet to do. It became clear on the day though just how far 100 miles is. Doing such a distance can require a lot of time, route planning, and as I was to find out, resources and patience.

Having such an organised ride made it much easier. Logistically, there were route marshalls, signs, support vehicles and feed stations. Physically, it always helps being surrounded by hundreds of other riders sharing the pain and spurring you on, and generally buzzing off the adrenaline of a mass participant event.

All that said, it surprised me how physically ready I was. I have not even come close to 100 miles this year. My rides have been limited to short evening runs, the occasional weekend 40-50 miles and a few hill training sessions. Perhaps the best training I had was the trip in the Southern Alps which was about two weeks prior to the event. I certainly felt like this took me to a level I've never been to before, but I was always aware that it was achieved in a very short space of time and that that strength/fitness might not last that long. Yet, even with 95 miles under the belt I still had the strength to really push on at the end.

The ride was actually far more of a learning experience, not so much about my fitness , but about the bike, eating, drinking and patience! I had a bit of a nightmare, puncturing 5 times and running out of inner tubes. Luckily I was able to profit off the ubiquitous support vehicles, who always had a spare tube and a good mini pump. Without them I may have been walking to the end. But they all frustrated my rhythm and my state of mind and by the 5th time I was ready to throw my bike off the nearest cliff.

I think what I learnt from it, was to prepare myself for the length of time a century can potentially take, and to stay patient in the face of the other disruptions that can occur in that space of time. Also, to take a good variety of food, because mule bars really aint that nice after the 45th one. Maybe the next time it will all go a bit more smoothly, making for a very pleasant surprise! And yes, I'm very keen to do it again, if just to prove to myself I can do it in a far quicker time.

Cycling Tour of the Southern Alps: Day 6 - Isola to Puget-Theniers

Sunday 29th August

We woke on day 6 facing a decision: to tackle one last climb, the Col de la Couillole, or take an alternative route back to Puget, that being a 75km cruise along the valley following the river Tinee. One crucial contributing factor to our final decision was that we had not had any dinner the night before!! On arrival, Isola seemed like a quaint, pretty, but highly resourced alpine ski resort. Having checked into our hotel at about 3pm we managed to grab ourselves large baguettes and bevvies whilst watching a fair amount of life go by.

Then, at about 8pm, the whole town seemed to disappear. It was as if the lights had gone out on a model village. Apart from one little square full of village elders partying on plastic cups of wine, the whole town was dead. There were 3 or 4 restaurants, none of which were open. That left us with a mile walk out of a town to a nearby campsite, but all that was there was a canteen full of French holiday goers and it all looked a little too bizarre to approach. So we starved.

For that reason, we chose to avoid the Col de la Couillole and opted instead for the valley ride. It was blissful, and reminded me of something I learnt a couple of years ago when cycling from Land's End to Edinburgh - that flats are good for your soul. Don't get me wrong, I love mountains, and I really caught the climbing bug, but after 3 days of tough cycling, there is nothing like flat roads to put a smile on your face.

The ride back to Puget took us no time at all, and as we raced back into our home away from home, along the sunlit boulevard, we reflected on 6 beautiful cols, some stunning towns, great cycling and a fantastic trip.

The finishing straight, back to Hotel Alize

Cycling Tour of the Southern Alps: Day 5 - Jausiers to Isola over the Cime de la Bonette

Saturday 28th August

A view from the top!

Watch Robert Millar over the Bonette in 1993

The third time they included the Col de la Bonette in the Tour de France in 1993, Paul Sherwen was quoted to have said it was 'the worst climb he had ever seen' and that he was 'rather pleased that they never included this climb during his years in the Tour.' It was these words that sat with me, right in the pit of my stomach early on Saturday morning as we psyched ourselves up for the giant climb out of Jausiers. Tour memorabilia still lies scattered all over the town; the jerseys hang from bedroom windows and a giant 'Bienvenue au Tour' still stands as a recent memory of when the riders rolled through in 2008. It felt momentous as we rolled out of our hotel driveway at 8am to tackle the Bonette.

It isn't the steepest climb, far from it. It averages 6.6% and includes a number of forgiving flatter stretches, which cannot be underestimated for their recovery powers. But, it is the highest road pass in Europe after planners added a loop around the Cime at the top of the mountain, and at 2802m you begin to feel the effects of altitude at the top. Not to mention the fact that it is a mammoth, strength sapping 23km from bottom to top.

Conditions on Day 5 were so much more favourable though. It was a cool, shady morning, with a touch of moisture still in the air. This allowed us to settle into a very smooth, relaxed early rhythm. There were also a huge number of cyclists out tackling the climb and it makes an immeasurable difference being able to ride rhythm alongside or behind other riders. The first 12km are conducive to strong tempo riding, never really going beyond 6-6.5% and keeping a steady gradient all the way. In fact I was shocked when I found that I'd got halfway up the climb in around an hour.

The second half though really put the skill, and the courage that it takes to climb mountain passes like the pros do in perspective. 8-12km can actually go by rather smoothly, even quickly. But at some point, no matter how much you've eaten, or drunk, or trained and prepared, your legs are simply going to want to stop. The front wheel of your bike begins to look for shallower gradients, almost instinctively. It begins to feel as though the bike is no longer rolling along the tarmac but ploughing straight into it, stubbornly and desperately trying to grind to a halt. Not to mention that the steepest sections come in this later part of the climb!

It is the length of the Bonette that really begins to tell, as km after km ticks by and still the top does not come as you climb at ever higher altitudes into thinning oxygen. At roughly 2k to go though comes perhaps the most rewarding and breathtaking parts of the climb itself. Here the road levels out completely into a procession up to the Col de la Bonette and finally the brutal 15% ramp up to the Cime itself. That stretch of tarmac is the most rewarding I have ridden. As I got my breath back for the final push, rolling along that plateau, I really looked around me, at the tops of the entire Southern Alpine range from 2800m above sea level. I became awash with the most incredible feeling of exhaustion and achievement, a whole body sensation that actually made me want to cry out and sprint to the top (I'm sure my legs would have mutinied if I'd tried). It was the absolute peak of my trip and I will always remember that moment.

We savoured the views for a long time before cruising the remaining 50 or so km to Isola, a really stunning alpine descent that soared downhill almost all the way. More of descents later.

Cycling Tour of the Southern Alps: Day 4 - Barcelonette to Jausiers

Friday 27th August

We woke up on day 4 to find that unfortunately our planned climb, the Col de Larche, required the right insurance, and had been closed on and off for the past few years to cyclists and motorcyclists. While there were countless climbs out of Barcelonette, we had a circular route to keep to and decided to reroute, planning a short roll down to Jausiers at about 10km, essentially a day off, before tackling the Cime de la Bonette on day 5.

The legs were certainly grateful for the day off. We used it to refuel, relax and even took our bikes to a legendary local bike shop, run by a Frenchman who was as old as the mountains and had been repairing bikes in Barcelonette for decades. He had the most effective chain link removal tool I've ever seen and I spent a good 10 minutes admiring it. Sadly I've been unable to find one like it since.

Adam relaxing in Barcelonette

Cycling Tour of the Southern Alps: Day 3 - The Col de la Cayolle

Thursday 26th August

The last hour of my life can only be described as possibly the most strenuous and torturous I've faced, certainly physically. Though hardly unrelentingly steep the Col de la Cayolle is pretty constant, snaking its way up the valley before hitting the wall of mountain which forces it to arch its way up in hairpin bends from the commune of Estenco. It is an imposing but mightily impressive mountain which deserves more than the apathy with which many visitors seem to treat it. It is not particularly rugged or wild, in fact rather immaculate, like a painting. The views back down the valley of lush green and earthen red rock are grandiose.

Looking back down the climb at the lush valley

What is most noticeable though is how exposed the Col feels. The heat today was fierce, seeming to burn the rock and the road underneath my wheels. It completely saps your energy, tightens your lungs and takes your breath away. Within minutes of starting the climb I was pouring with sweat from every pore and I simply didn't have enough water. I knew I would have to consolidate and ration it until I found a fountain, but all I wanted to do was pour one bottle down my throat and the other over my head.

From about 5km out I hit the wall completely. My legs died and felt like lead, my lungs gave in and no matter how many gels I gobbled I simply could not find a rhythm. It was all I could do to grind out metre after metre after metre. From 4km out I was stopping every 200 metres just to recover, until finally that 2km to go sign seemed to give me some reserve that I didn't realise I had. I'd hardly say I flew up that final part but it certainly felt like it.

The Refuge de la Cayolle awaits you at the top and all I could think of was cold coca-cola, but alas, it should be called the Col de lack of Coca-Cayolla. It has to be said though, the lemonade there tastes like crystal water and it is a beautiful summit. I sat in awe for quite some time as the endorphins literally coarsed through my body. It was a tough first two days, for which my diary was a fitting testament. As I wrote my entry at top of the Cayolle, the cover was literally soaked to the spine with my sweat.

The Refuge de Cayolle, in brilliant sunshine

Cycling Tour of the Southern Alps: Day 2 - Puget-Theniers to Guillaumes

Wednesday 25th August

So, we had our breakfast of tea, coffee, juice and chocolate milk to wash down about 8 varieties of croissant and bread, then made our way to the bus stop for the 8am bus to Decathlon in Lingostiere, just outside Nice. However, the bus was full and there wouldn't be another one till the afternoon. We waited an hour then made it to the station for the 9.30am train to Lingostiere, but that too was full. It is impossible to account for the inefficiencies of provincial life when you're used to the arguably reliable London tube. So, we sat outside our Hotel Alize and ordered a cab hoping that, assuming the cab too wasn't full we might just make it there that morning and be on the road by 11am...OK well at least that day.

Though not the hardest day of our tour, it was the longest, yet still only 73km, and with 1525m of height gain. Logistically though it was always going to be tough, following our rushed trip to Decathlon in the morning. We only got going at 3pm and it was a very slow start as we found our legs, adjusted our bikes, bags and even offloaded luggage. I think we were both shocked at how restrictive the heat was and what a hinderance our luggage was going to be. A heavy bag makes climbing out of the saddle a very different experience.

When we found ourselves gliding along the river valley of the Gorge Daluis however, at 10pm, illuminated only by the light of the moon, it felt like we had lost our way somewhere, even left this world and taken a detour to some other more celestial place! It was hard to fully appreciate the awe-inspiring surroundings: the moonshine sparkle of the river, the ominous silhouettes of the mountains as they closed in with the growing darkness, the secretive cut-through tunnels which we were forced to negotiate on foot in the pitch black. At the forefront of your mind at times like this is the logistical stuff, the need to eat, drink, sleep, get to the hotel before it closes. But somewhere among those anxious thoughts was a contented admiration for the unbelievable scene around us.

Adam's thoughts summed it up perfectly. It may not have been the smoothest day, but this is what it was all about. 5 days a week, nearly every week of the year we work in boring jobs, in offices made of glass, brick and steel. It's important to remember to look up now and then when you're surrounded by such environs, and simply appreciate what you see before you.

Cycling Tour of the Southern Alps 2010: Day 1 - Puget-Theniers

 Tuesday 24th August

My friend Adam and I arrived in Puget-Theniers, France, on the 24th August 2010 to begin a 5 day tour of the Southern Alps in aid of Alzheimer's Society. I ride my bike a lot, but I have never even been close to a mountain on a bike. The whole thing started to seem a little bit daunting on arrival, as the topography literally begins to rise thousands of meters up ahead of you. Adam had only been riding his bike for a month! Unfortunately, we had bigger issues to worry about before we could even consider hitting the road.

There was almost a sense of inevitability about the potentially trip derailing incident that occurred upon our arrival. Not much more than a month after 'chaingate' shattered Andy Schleck's very real chance of peeling the maillot jaune off Alberto Contador's back, it was a chain that nearly cut short out entire trip before one revolution of a wheel.

It was a cruel reminder of the fact that a bicycle is a fallible and vulnerable mechanical object, prone to wear and tear, damage and ongoing problems, much like ourselves. Perhaps this is why we become so attached to our machines as we begin to understand their little glitches like tiny traits or flaws in their personality. They require an unbelievable amount of love and attention.

It was just so inevitable though, that after 3 hours of arduous transit, nearly an hour of setting the bikes up in soaring 37 degree heat and coming down to quite literally the last link in the chain, that link was missing - the quick release link. A tiny piece only 1.5cm long, nowhere to be found among all that metal. A careful repair later and it seemed like disaster had been averted, until a short test ride uphill exposed its fragility and I came crashing down as soon as I put any real force through the drivetrain.

Thank heavens for 'Decathlon', France's answer to Halfords you might say. And thank heavens for heroic hoteliers who are willing to expend the kind of effort that I am simply not used to. I put it down to being a city boy, people just don't have the time to help you out in the same way.  In any case, half an hour after explaining our desperate need for a new chain, or 'shain', we resolved to set off to Decathlon, an hour's drive away, at 8am. With any luck we might still be on the road by 11am.