The challenge as set; to ride from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean via a prescribed route over 18 Pyrenean cols, some of which we'd never heard of, and many of which are staples for Le Tour's Pyrenean sorties. Approx 720 km, 11000 meters of elevation gain and, if completed inside of 100 hours, as evidenced by the stamping of a route passport (“carnet”) at various towns and cols along the way, recognized with a medal of some sort. The Raid has become quite popular as evidenced by the fact that several hundred attempt it each year. Now that we are older and wealthier, rather than lug backpacks unsupported as I've done in the past, our stuff would be ported and, in fact, the whole itinerary planned by Ian and Julie of "Pyrenee Multisport" who specialise in this sort of thing and really made it happen, going above and beyond when required.
Day 1. Hendaye - Lurbe St Christau; 150 km.
An "easy" first day with a smattering of small cols was made considerably more difficult by temperatures for much of the day hovering in the mid 30's, and an assurance that the parcours were much lumpier than appeared on paper, with 2500 m to be gained. The likelihood of this being a toughie was telegraphed by the night prior being a stinker, lodged as we were in an industrial truck-stop hotel on the Spanish side of the border where the air conditioning units were merely cosmetic.
Over dinner we started to get to know those we'd be sharing the roads with over the next 5 days. We were 13 riders in total - 6 Aussies (Ham, Kev*, Nige*, GK, Anita and moi) and 7 Brits (Arnold, Jason, Tom, Peter, Mike, Duncan and Anouschka). It was also great to catch up with Nige, whom I hadn't seen in some years. We caught the final stage of the tour on the box during the eve. Froome (with commendable gel-support by Porte) takes his first.
[* for simplicity but may require qualification]
Monday 22nd kicked off with an easy trundle back into France and down to the beach in Hendaye where most of us had an ankle-deep wade in the Atlantic. With a bit of sand in the socks the ride officially kicked off. The clock was set to zero at 9:05 leaving but 100 hours inside of which we hoped we'd be more than be just dipping toes in the Mediterranean; that is, by Friday at 1:05 pm. After some coastal undulations we followed baguette crumbs in the form of red arrows as the course weaved inland into the Basque hinterland. The Col St Ignace (169 m) was followed shortly by the Col Pinodeita (176m), with lunch taken after some rolling country lumpiness and town sign sniping. Afternoon cols included the d'Ipharlatze (328 m) and d'Osquich (459 m), interspersed with more town sign gallops before afternoon tea and general regrouping was taken in a leisurely cafe style manner that became typical of the trip.
Expectation of a group trundle to the destination hotel was thrown asunder by Kev forgetting to get his carnet stamped which necessitated an unannounced trip with Ham back to the cafe stop where the all-important stamps were obtained. A generous pause at the top of one of the last remaining lumps by Anita, Nigel, Tom and I, in which neither Ham nor Kev materialised but during which GK rolled through, provided the carrot for a furious chase over the remaining kms, gaining contact only on the last pinch just meters before the hotel and a soothing sit in the pool were attained.
Day 2. Lurbe - St Marie du Campon. Complicated mileage and elevation.
The queen stage. Although only a short leg of 135 km we would knock off the Raid's perhaps hardest ensemble of climbs; the Marie-Blanc (only 1035 m but sustained, and affectionately referred to by Nige and GK as the "Barry White"), the hard side of the Aubisque (1709 m, which gifts the col of the Soulor at 1464 m on the far side) followed by the mighty Tourmalet (2115 m), tackled from the western Luz St Sauveur side.
The spanner in stage plans was a horrendous flood which erased chunks of the road up the Tourmalet we intended to climb, complete with houses and sections of villages. Expectation of impassibility meant that to tick this col we'd have to ascend from the shorter yet steeper eastern side, with a detour around the massif via Lourdes adding another 30 km to the daily mileage. As if the adventure wasn't arduous enough.
Anita and I departed a little ahead of schedule, able to get the bulk of the Barry White dispatched before things got too hot. The gorgeous high plateau meadows appeared to have been perfectly groomed by gaggles of cows, goats, sheep and donkeys, not to mention the mobile traffic furniture in the form of clydesdales which trotted along the mountain road.
Having breathed in the marvelous views and smells we descended back below the cloud, hung a RHT, and made our way up the valley to Laruns where coffee and regrouping were followed by a gentle ascent of the Aubisque. I'd only ever been down this side before back in 2006 but what a stunner! My new favourite Pyrenean ascent. We had a perfect day for it too, with only a sprinkling of rain on the lower slopes, mid climb trepidation over whether the weather would improve, and up top fantastic views and nonchalant cows and their fragrant splatterings.
Chocolate chaud, tasty sandwiches, and news that the Tourmalet had in fact just been opened to bike traffic warmed us before the requisite col photographs. Nige even had Alice and kids join him for summit festivities. Our summit posing was punctuated by a classic knee-grounded proposition from Duncan to Anouschka upon her arrival (she did accept, amidst a round of summit applause). On to the picturesque mini-descent to the Soulor, further sustained descent, another RHT and the long drag up to Luz St Sauveur.
As we were to discover, some things are just not meant to be. Our progression past Luz St Sauveur and into the meat of the Tourmalet was halted in no uncertain terms a few km short of Bareges by gendarmes adamant that further progression would not be tolerated given the heavy construction work underway. This was not a complete surprise given the extent of damage we had witnessed thus far, and we were probably only 1/3 of the way up. Hardly in a position to argue we had to about-face as GK hit the phones to relay our conundrum. We descended back down the long gorge sector where we were met by Julie and Ian who had looped back round the massif from the eastern side hotel with the vans.
Kev, Ham and I had designs on getting to the eastern side under our own steam, given that we knew the northern roads courtesy of our 2006 trip. We finally gained St Marie du Campan and the hotel (classic village type with tiny rooms but loads of character) where we showered then nervously awaited the return of those who'd made a late afternoon dash for the summit after being ferried round to the eastern base. General exhaustion and lack of time would mean that our assault on the col would be postponed till the morning. Even though Kev, Ham and I hadn't done the final mountain we had still covered 175 km (with 3500 m of up) making this the most physically draining day of the trip for me.
Eventually Nige then GK, Anita and Tom rolled in, having summited and plummeted back to earth in one piece. Peter and Mike, who were only 30 minutes further behind copped heavy rain for the entire descent and nearly had to be chipped off their steeds prior to hot showers. Mountains can be fickle that way. A jovial dinner atmosphere celebrated the fact that half of us had still managed an unlikely late afternoon tick even though the mountain had earlier said no.
Day 3. St Marie du Caman - Massat; 200 km.
Ordinarily this was going to be a hefty 170 km day, engaging such notable cols as the Aspin, Peyresourde and Port d'Aspet. However five of us were going to be tackling the Tourmalet first, turning the leg into a 200 km and 4100 m outing. Arnold was first up the hill after a restless night and completed a good chunk of the beast by moonlight. He descended past Ham, Kev and I when we were only about one third of the way up. His stablemate Jason (no gifts!) descended past us with a few km left for us to climb. I'd forgotten what a consistently tough mountain this was. We breakfasted at the summit and had our passports stamped before the long descent back to the hotel and then embarked upon the day's normal route.
Good cows were encountered on the Aspin before the drag up to the Peyresourde where our engines were replenished with summit crepes amidst a general regrouping. Our thinking that we had the day licked proved unfounded. The thrill of the great descent to Luchon was soon countered by a nasty headwind which stymied progress to our late lunch stop atop the Col du Ares (797 m, GK's "John Elliot"). It's fair to say that some of our number were really feeling it at this point. The last climb of the day was the short but nasty Port de Aspet, after which a taily, finally, helped Ham, Anita, Tom, Peter, Mike and I bring it on home about a beer behind the advance party of the Kev-express, Nige and GK. Ride of the day/trip easily went to Arnold who endured a hard long slog on zero sleep and knocked off what i'm guessing would rate as the most challenging day he's ever done. Chapeau!
The hotel was unlike anything I've quite experienced; the usual creaking floors plus heaving wooden furnishings and interior, intense clashing floral tiles and wallpaper, bidet but no toilet in the rooms, not to mention further embellishment by a forest of plastic shrubbery from which tribes of dolls and taxidermy artifacts protruded. All complimented by a gastronomic chicken experience that left many of us grumbling in multiple ways come the morning.
Day 4. Massat - Prades; 165 km.
Effectively our 4th 100 miler in a row, with three major cols and a transition to Mediterranean decor. First for the day was the linguistic tautology that is the Col du Port (1249 m), a lovely gentle giant of 4.6% for 12 km. The prolonged adventure that is the Col du Marmare was next (1361 m), which involved a steep initial salvo, an undulating 20 km jungle traverse, and another gentle-grade finale of 10 km on top of which cups of tea were taken. The promised 60 km slam-fest to the lunch stop proved more difficult than imagined courtesy of a powerful valley headwind, although we did enjoy dangling feet in the river as we downed sandwiches on another scorching day. Post lunch the fast train had yet again already departed so Ham, Anita, Tom and I headed out together for the last major col of the route, the Col du Jau (1506 m), which opened with some nasty steep initial kms under a blazing sun after which an easier grade in shade provided relief for the last 11 km.
The final descent to Prades was one of the highlights of the trip, with a strong Mediterranean flavour evident in vegetation, villages and road furnishings. We had broken the back of it now, and all that remained was for the last 85 km to be covered on the final day before the 1:05 pm cutoff.
Day 5. Prades - Cerbere. Only 85 km.
Mostly gently down hill with 5 short bergs at the death. The first 50 km was great sport, reverting back to the town sprint festivities that had been abandoned once the hills-proper began. Post morning tea the Med was finally in view and the inevitable foxing and some perhaps less than sensible riding ensued in the built up seaside ports and their inevitable congestion. I'd pretty much accepted that I'd missed the break as Kev, Nige, Ham, Tom, Arnold, Jason and GK squeezed through traffic and disappeared out of view. Somehow though, either they took a wrong turn or we snuck a short-cut (a bit of both i think) because somehow a bunch of us ended up together at the base of the last Poggio-like berg which we had previously joked about as being the "launch pad". My legs didn't fail me and I was able to skip away before sitting up and waiting for Anita who had bonked a little on the run in. It was great to roll in together at approx midday and complete an arduous adventure that in the lead up she had convinced herself she wouldn't be able to handle.
In fact it was a credit to all of us for knocking the Raid off during what turned out to be a particularly hot slab of weather. Swimming in the crystal Mediterranean and ice cream never felt better. Well done all! And big thanks to Ian and Julie for their support, insight, humour and helping us achieve our goal. Not sure what the next euro adventure will be, but I'm hoping it won't be another 6 years before we all get over there again.
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