Transcontinental Race 2015 @tcrace2015-blog - Tumblr Blog

Crossing the Alps

Terrible night with little to no sleep on the floor of the Sault campground. I take a quick shower and pack my stuff as quickly as I can. I am feeling sluggish and hope an espresso will put me back on track. But it does not work out. The configuration is the same as yesterday night, ups and downs in the canyons. It’ll be about 10km of climb until lunch. That’s what I roughly calculated while having issues with the Garmin that turns off constantly because I do not go fast enough for my dynamo to produce enough power.

The afternoon is a lot more enjoyable. My body has warmed-up, and the route is mostly going down with a good tailwind. It is an nice ride across the apple tree fields in the Alps. I bump into Mathieu again, we will keep on passing each other almost the whole afternoon. Later on, I am also crossing paths with Simon Rounding and his brother who are riding as a pair. I bump into Simon and his brother again at l’Argentiere while I am looking for a bite to eat. They are sitting outside, both are so cool and passionate that it’ll be a crime not to join them for dinner. We are having the most amazing meal a cyclist can dream of: a delicious Tartiflette made with local cheese, potatoes and bacon! It’s heaven, and heaven x2 because the portion is gigantic. We’re gulping 2 espressos each before getting back on the road. It is now very dark, and we know that a huge amount of climbing is waiting ahead before reaching the second checkpoint, Sestrieres. I am feeling good. I will not feel the exact same the next morning, but I do not know it yet. The only way to deal with the race is to be in the present.

First pass is right before Briancon. I pass Simon and his brother in mid-climb, and will not see them again after. It is a gradual but long pass under the moonshine. I make sure to stay as visible as possible for the truck drivers, there are still a few of them on that road late at night. It’s getting colder and colder. As a steep descent starts towards Briancon, I am happy to see some city lights again. I am now at the bottom of a different valley, and I want to reach Italy by the early morning. Down in Briancon, the second climb of the night starts sooo steep that I feel like I am taking off. After 10km of hard work, I reach the deserted custom border of Montgenevre around 1.30am, tired, empty, cold and hungry again (it is where the computer picture was taken). There’s a campground up there, but there are only caravans and camping-cars. I can’t at all imagine falling asleep here by 5 celsius degrees so I decide it’ll be best to push it to the first town in Italy down the valley. It’ll be a bit warmer.

I reach Cesana Torinese aound 2am. The patio of a closed bar has comfy chairs and seems like it’ll be the perfect sleeping spot, minus the freezing air. I unpack my stuff and get into my sleeping bag, with my warmest riding kit on.

The beast day of the race

Today’s a big one: the climb of Mont Ventoux, the first checkpoint of the race, is coming up in the afternoon.

The guy appears from afar around 12am. I am ready for him. My ankle and Achilles are still inflamed, but I can deal with them. That region is so beautiful that it makes you forget about the physical pain, anyways. After grabbing a sandwich at a bakery near Vaison-La-Romaine, I decide to stop at a bike shop in Bedoin, the small village at the foot of the Mountain where some other riders had gotten some work done (thank you, TCR Facebook group!). We’ve been asked by the race director to ride the hardest route to the top instead of approaching from Malaucene, the softest one. There’s no one in the shop in the middle of this hot afternoon. The bike mechanic fits me on the horse. My clips are too much in front and need to be repositioned, he said, so the tension can be relieved on my Achille. Work done, and he refuses to charge me anything. I am ready for the beast.

I do not know much what to expect except for a 20km climb. It starts really soft. After km 3, I am on to 7% climb. Then 8. Then 10. Never climbed something that steep, and hard. I pass a robust dutch girl doing it on a mountain bike. Another guy climbs on a race bike, he’s much faster than I am, but I am also 10kg heavier. It is mostly pain and sweat until the finish that culminates at 11%. I had the amazing idea of leaving my bag pack in the bush down to be lighter. Only to find out that my route goes almost direct a few miles down from the top. Those times when you want to beat yourself. I take a good 20 mn of rest at the top to catch my breathe. The little souvenir shop is still, open, I can grab 2 cans of coke and some cookies while admiring the scenery. I missed the TCR team by almost almost a day, but it does not matter. It is about 10 Celsius degrees up there and I am getting cold. I cover myself well with my 2 jackets so I do not turn into an ice-cube going down and start the descent back to Bedoin.

The climb took me about 3 hours. The same path in the opposite direction takes me only half an hour. The descent is exhilarating, with speed up to 42mph.

Back to Bedoin, I bumped into TCR volunteers and another french rider, Matthieu. We start chatting with British girls here on a bike tour. One of them invites me to join their table. Around 8.30pm, here I am, having a casual dinner with some company. It is such a rare opportunity that it is hard to decline. I also feel like treating myself a bit tonight to celebrate the passing of the first checkpoint. It’s a lively dinner, my bike and outfit are catching attention around us. The British lady accompanies me to the bike and insist on refilling my water bottles before I go. I am leaving the restaurant under everyone’s applause on the terrace. No doubt the locals heard about the TCR.

Not sure that taking the road again to Sault after dinner was a great idea. But I wanted to make it up for the time lost. Quite quickly, I find myself on a deserted road swinging into the canyons, lightened by the moonshine. I do not encounter a single car or living presence in 30km. It feels both strange and quite romantic to be there by myself after the warm sent off I received. I am feeling very sleepy and what was supposed to be a 90mn ride takes forever. Up and down, left and right…. I finally make it to Sault after a 3 hours ride at 1.30am. I reach the first campground (anonymous, huge and rocky) and just lay my sleeping bag on the floor. Too tired to put the tent on. Had I gone straight from the top of Mount Ventoux, I would have arrived there by 8pm. So much for an impromptu dinner.

Down the Rhone Valley

Bad night in the tent. I thought this solo sarcophage would be fine but it is not. Too small, hard to breathe and quite uncomfortable. A night outside this shell feels actually a lot better. I fall back asleep after my alarm clock rang at 5 am; and wake up at 6.

I hit the road and grab an extra shot of caffeine in Lyon late in the morning. I have never had a chance to visit this gastronomic temple, and once again it will not be this time around. I am following the Rhone River far after the city limits and it is quite nice. I stop for lunch at a very strange cafe. A girl that’s spent her last half hour on the phone complaining about her life situation is trying to be chatty. Shortly after, another guy wants to tell me all about is 504 convertible parked in front of us. The lunch is good, homemade. I do not have much time for anything else.

I cross the famous villages of the Rhone Valley in the afternoon, only to reach Valence early evening. I spin into the night until about 11pm, getting lost, looking for a cheap hotel that I can’t find, and texting a friend back and forth; it offers me a nice and playful distraction in the silent night.

The Garmin indicates a small campground in Chateauneuf-du-Rhone. I need to sleep and decide to head there. It’s a small, intimate municipal campground. No fence so I can just go in trying to be quiet so I do not disturb anyone. As I lay down, I am observing the sky lit with so many stars. I fall asleep under their dimmed lights.

The view from my hotel in Dijon-Macon

Dijon-Macon on a half-baked ankle

I am waking up rested, and walk to the closest pharmacy to get an anti-inflammatory balm, some relief pills and some bandage. That’s what the nice pharmacist advises me. The ankle feels slightly better. Certainly not great, but good enough to rule out the idea of scratching from the race.

I go to the closest bike shop and ask the guy to check my shoes and pedals to make sure everything is properly tuned. He does not see anything wrong. So, I get back on the road around noon. I am grabbing lunch in Seurre in the bright sun, and it looks like things might work out fine if I go easy on myself. I feel reinsured and hopeful again. It makes the day a much better one than yesterday.

I have tailwinds most of the afternoon crossing the Cote-de-Beaune. My initial target was Lyon, but I do not make it past Macon. I do not want to push it too far anyways. Macon is a very enticing city with a southern architecture and colorful houses. After a dinner al Fresco, I sneak in one of the 2 municipal campings shown by my GPS around 11pm.

Rien n’est jamais acquis. D2 is already here to prove it.

I woke up at 6am by a sunny field. I quickly packed my sleeping bag as some other riders were passing by, and went on. I found a local cafe open and had 2 espressos. The owner asked me where I was going. I leave the cafe as he’s still looking at me completely stunned like I am crazy. Lots of shops are closed in France on Sundays and it makes finding food more difficult. I reach Burgundy late morning and found a small grocery store open. I buy a big bag of potato chips, some sliced saucisson, some peanuts, some sodas and destroy everything in less than 10 minutes. While still having space for lunch. Yay!

Riding through the hills of Côte d'Or was a joyful experience. I never visited the region in depth but totally felt under the charm of it. My ankle started to really hurt towards the late afternoon and my progress were slower and slower, with headwinds not helping. I took a picture of my foot and send it to my friend Roland in LA. He’s telling me about ankle strain and Achille. I need to rest if I do not want this to go awry. I am getting worried. I have to stop in Dijon and get a hotel for the night to sort this out.

I find a cheap one in the city center. I wanted one as close as possible to food and a pharmacy. It’s a cute room under the roof with a nice view on the old streets of Dijon. The reception desk finds me some ice. My right foot hurts so much that I can hardly go up the stairs. But I need to manage somehow. I spend a good hour icing my strained ankle, worrying about this unexpected turn, so soon. What if I had to stop here? All this preparation to not go past Dijon? How am I going to feel like tomorrow? There is nothing I can do anyways. I decide I’ll go to the pharmacy once it’s open in the morning and will decide on what to do after a good night of sleep.

The 24H Warm-Up

The big impressive group on the departure line is dislocating quickly, and in less than an hour I am by myself. I am planning on riding the whole night. I remind myself of eating every hour and drinking every half an hour. Around 2.30am, the GPS is taking me through bicycles paths in the forest. It is dark as hell and I am happy I have the Supernova Triple as a headlight. There ‘s a lot of wildlife around: owls, foxes, cats crossing here and there, eyes glowing in the dark. It feels pretty lonely. After 20km, I finally reach a regular road again. I am still in Belgium as the sun is slowly pointing out. Closer to the French border, I am passing a rider sleeping in a bus stop. It feels somewhat reinsuring. I made it through the first night on the saddle. It is 6.30am and I feel like I should take a bit of rest. But I have hardly laid down under a tree that the rain starts pouring down. The sky is heavy and threatening. My only choice is now to continue until I find a dry place to hide. The rain will be intensifying non-stop for the next 3 hours, until I reach the Ardennes. I am soaked from head to toe, but it is refreshing. First waterproofness test also for my Revelate Frame bags.

I find a bar open in a little village shortly after I reach France. It already feels like a small victory to be in the next country. I dismount the bike cold and shaking, and buy myself some viennoiseries at the bakery. I take them to the bar across the street where I order an espresso. Good to be somewhere dry, and warm myself up. After 8 years in America I had not had much chance to be in those small provincial cafes only frequented by locals. And I feel both at home and a foreigner. I am realizing that my route is taking me through a very hilly part of the Ardennes, heading west through Mons and Reims would have been a much easier start. I have not entered this race for easiness anyways. The rain has not stopped and the sky is still loaded outside. So I go again. This first day is about getting into the rhythm. Or find it.

The sky clears in the afternoon and the rain leaves place to strong side winds as I am crossing the fields of Champagne. The body is feeling good and I am feeling fresh. I take my first hour nap of the day in a picnic area on the side of the road before reaching Vitry-le-Francois. I treat myself to a burger for dinner in this charming little city. Some TCR riders from England are there too! They found a campground and they’ll spend the night here. I decide to reach my planned destination, Briennes-le-Chateau, after dinner. It’ll take me another 2 hours and it is already 11.30pm when I decide to look for a place to sleep. I have passed many good ones on my way and I feel a bit disappointed when I reach Briennes. Not many decent spots. I find a piece of grass by a wheat field shortly outside the city. I lay my sleeping bag on the ground and fall asleep shortly after 211 miles. My longest day on a bike.

D like Departure, or Dreading?

I arrived in Geerardsbergen late at night. I dropped the rental car in Lille and biked all the way there (70km). I had a hard time to find the hostel where the organizers booked some rooms for the racers before departure. But I found it thanks to the help of the locals. I followed a fellow British rider who was going back there with his father who’s accompanying him from the UK. Perfect. Lots of ready to go bikes in the courtyard and everyone’s busy looking for plugs to charge their cell phones, eager to get some sleep or find some dinner. I am worried about dinner. I will not get any, but I am too tired anyway, I’ll pass. Two of the volunteers from the race are there and we chat a little. After a quick shower, I am off to my last good night of sleep in one of the room upstairs.

After a quiet night and some deep sleep, It is time for registration in the morning. It is a few kilometers away, I am riding there with my ‘new’ British friend that happened to be in the courtyard around the same time as I did. We’re riding nicely along the canal at about 20 km/h. What are we going to average during the race? Who knows? It’s about riding as many hours as possible, not about riding fast. A long line of riders is preceding us in the registration hallway. Most riders have taken foldable seats in the room to wait in line. Conversation forms. Everyone’s curious about everyone else bike, and set up. There are still a few hours to improve what can be improved. After an hour or so, it is my turn to get in front of Mike Hall and have all my documents lined-up. Remy Pedussel, number 93. I get my cap, my tracker, my bag that contains a few gifts from the sponsors. One of them, a small waterproof candy bag, will prove itself very handy to keep my passport and wallet dry.

I head towards the city center to get a late lunch, first bite of food in 18 hours. 2 other riders encourage me to sit at a cafe where bolognese pasta look decent. And they are right. One of the guy, Lederhosen, is Austrian. He’s wearing this unique Jersey that has the same pattern as bistro tablecloth, red and white. It’s cute and funny but the guy is no joke. First, he lives in Styria that, on top of making some pretty great Sauvignon Blanc, is also known for its big climbs. Second, he’s an ex pro racer. In a broken english, he tells me that 30km/h is borderline boring on a bike, and that 50km/h is better. Climbing summits, no problem. He hopes to make the finish in 9 days, 11 is something goes wrong. I know I will not see him again after today.

After a few coffees and a mental repeat of my route, I am heading towards the Muur around 6.30pm. The departure will be given there at midnight. Everyone’s almost there waiting for the briefing that will be given in 5 languages by Mike and his team. I’ll just go the the english one, and since I have time I am staying for the french one too to find out who are my fellow racers. After the briefing it’s a fight to get some food as servers are scarce and all very busy trying to fulfill everyone’s orders at the same time. Dusk is coming. Time to go take a nap? Maybe. Who can honestly sleep before a full night of riding and a 4200km ride across Europe just about to happen? I am trying anyway to lay down on the grass by the chapel, but it’s pointless. Midnight will come. Midnight is coming. 11.30pm is already there and it’s time to line-up on the Muur. So many people. The Mayor of the city is there in his outfit reminiscent of Louis the XIV, as well as a lot of people from the city that came to wish us good luck and say goodbye. A lot of candles are lit-up. It’s a strange atmosphere. We would be shooting a movie that it would not be much different. Are we going yet? We’re doing a neutralized loop first. When we will reach the top of the MUUR again, we’ll be on our own to CP1: Mont Ventoux!

The path to Turkey

The bike is ready to go all the way on the road, this road that I traced and fine-tuned, as shown on the map. I decided not to take any ferry (Why the hell would you do that on a event called TRANS-CONTINENTAL), and just go through the Balkans and Greece before reaching Turkey. The most intuitive route in some ways, but by far not the flattest. It’s ok, I really want to experience the Balkans where I have never been.

Tomorrow, I will drive to Lille and bike from there to Geraardsbergen (Flanders), where the race will depart. I’ll spend the night there before diving into the race.

What, only 3 more days?

This has been a totally insane week. Not content of only doing the TCR half way across the world, I also decided to transfer my whole life back to Europe at the same time (finishing selling and packing my furniture, saying proper goodbye to friends) while still working on finishing the preparations of the race.

My 70kg of baggage arrived safe and sound at CDG on Thursday. I found my bike box wide open when I picked it up, but fortunately nothing was missing. I still wonder how this happened. Never mind. If nothing is missing them it's like nothing happened.

After a enjoyable 2 days in Paris, I drove all the way to Brittany to visit my parents and put together my bike. I did it with my dad, who helped me on the gear adjustment and fitting the brand new fenders. It will be most useful to keep myself away from the rain spray, and keep both the gear and myself somewhat cleaner.

Time to upload my documents (doctor's note, proof of insurance, proof of address...) on the TCR website. Mike Hall, the race organizer, made this possible to save all riders some time on the D-day. Bad news, the site is down when I am ready to do the upload. I also tested the Navigation for the first time in Europe today. I had to completely reset my device so it can acquire satellites. The maps seem to work ok, thanks god. I split half of my route in several parts so the files can be handled more easily. I hope to have everything tested again tomorrow, gear, devices and maps. I can't believe we're almost there.

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