As some of you may know, I have a bit of a competitive streak in me and this tends to come out more when I'm in a group. We’re now travelling with four other people – Rod and Tanya (my in-laws as of almost two months ago) and Mägge and Hille, two of their friends from Switzerland. Rod and Tanya (more so Tanya) have been wanting to ride the Tour de France climbs for quite some time and as such, they’re trying to squeeze in as many bike rides as possible during their stay in France with us. Before I continue writing about today’s experience, let me outline the profile of my fellow bike riders and myself. Mägge, Hille, Tanya and Rod have all been mountain biking and road riding for anywhere between 15-25 years and have done long distance, multi-day rides like the BC Bike Race and the Trans Alps. I on the other hand am an amateur cheese and chocolate taster, near professional patisserie eater that started actually training (i.e. on a bicycle) the day before yesterday, with the Col de la Madeleine.

Yesterday, we did the Col de l’Iseran climb (as a warmup!). I was still feeling pretty good this morning, i.e. my legs were still moving, so I decided to join the group of intrepid riders today for what would turn out to be the ride of my life. We were going to tackle the Col de Galibier – one of the most notorious rides of the Tour. Not as famous as the Alpe d’Huez but definitely tougher. Of course, Tanya, in her never ending quest for a workout, had researched the hardest – yes, you read that correctly: HARDEST – way to reach the summit. We started our climb from St. Michel de Maurienne at around 11 am. The sun was out, I was still feeling pretty limber, and off I toodled with the gang. The first part of the climb began within about a kilometer. What I was soon to find out that this was only the first peak! To get to the eventual Col du Galibier, we had to go up Col de Telegraph, down it and then ride some gradual uphill and then begin the climb up Galibier. Oh yes, and once we were done that, do the whole thing in reverse back to the campsite –a whopping ~80k loop!

Within a few minutes of starting the climb up Telegraph, I dropped back from the main group to go at my pace. Meghan was following in the van and taking pictures of us along the way. It was great to have her cheering us on, bring our warm clothes to the top, and to have extra water and food when required. Rod, Tan, Mägge and Hille soon disappeared from view and I just kept plugging along. It was a tough hill – about 14km long and I believe about an 8% average grade. This was clearly a very popular climb because there were garbage cans designed for cyclists the whole way along the road. Each bin had a large opening at average riding height and it also signed how far along the next bin was.

About a kilometer from the summit, I spotted Rod’s red jersey flapping in the wind as I rounded a switchback. Just for kicks, I started pedaling harder and very shortly, I was right behind him and he still hadn’t noticed. I pulled up alongside, said hello, and then pulled on ahead. As we approached the top, Hille and Meghan were standing there cheering Rod and I on and I heard Hille shouting to push harder. I didn’t see Rod sneaking up behind me and by the time I saw him, he was right up alongside. We both sprinted the last 100 meters or so for a photo finish and I’ll leave it to you to decide who came in first. We refilled on water and then made our way down Telegraph and stopped for lunch in a little town. The four of them stopped for a huge bowl of pasta and since Megs and I weren’t feeling that hungry, we just had lunch in the van.

About 45 minutes later, we were on the bikes again starting our ascent towards Galibier. This was the best part of the ride in terms of the scenery and probably one of the most scenic of all the rides we did that week. It was a fairly gradual ascent for about 10 km or so and then there was a switchback that kicked you up to about a 12% grade for nearly a kilometer. That was really tough and both Rod and I commented on how nasty it was when we got to the top. When we got over that steep section, I came alongside Rod and was asking him what gear I would have to be in to be equivalent to his lowest gear (I have an extra ring in the front). He said it would be like 1 and 4 so I decided I should ride the rest of the way in that gear to see what it would feel like to be on a road bike. I didn’t take into account that I was probably pushing a good twelve pounds or so more up the hill in terms of bike weight.

The climb to the top was slow going and steep for the last 8 or 9 kilometers. It was extremely scenic but my legs (and lungs) were working very hard to get me to the Col. At about the 2 km mark from the top, I thought I heard someone shouting my name but I couldn’t see anyone so I thought I was losing it (I later found out it was Tanya cheering me on from the summit – they could see me from the top and they said at one switchback, I looked like I was pushing so hard but almost standing still!). And that’s what it felt like for the last few switchbacks which were very steep and it felt like I wasn’t making any progress at all. Eventually, I spotted the last bend and the finish line was in sight. I huffed and puffed my way over the line and had to stop for a good five minutes to catch my breath. Rod had just arrived about five minutes ahead and the others had probably been there for twenty or so. Megs took some photos of all of us at the top and since it was pretty cool up at the top, we decided we should start making our way back. Just before leaving, I joked that I might need a defribulator on the way back; we had seen the sign for one on the way up the Telegraph.

The descent down was a lot of fun but it was quite cool out as some clouds had rolled in. Within probably about 45 minutes, we were back in the town where we’d stopped for lunch. We continued on and I struggled my way up the Col de Telegraph again, from the other side. This was summit #3 in the same day and I was hurting. The others all made it to the top probably a good 10 minutes ahead of me and kept cycling on back to camp. Tanya circled back to make sure I was still alive and we cycled for a few minutes together till we reached the summit. I stopped for a short break to catch my breath and then we started our final descent into the campsite. I wasn’t feeling great but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly. About halfway into our descent, I pulled over as I was getting stomach cramps and it was hard to stay focused on the road. I got back on the bike and went a few more kilometers and pulled over again because my stomach was hurting so badly by this time that I was feeling nauseous and wasn’t able to focus properly. I knew I was only a few kilometers from the campsite at this point but there were still a few switchbacks left and I wanted to play it safe instead of trying to push through. Tanya pulled in behind me to check if I was ok and I told her I just needed a few minutes rest before I went on. Five minutes of heaving breathing, clutching my stomach and trying to sip some water, I decided I wasn’t going to be able to complete the last few kms to camp. I lay down on the ground and asked Tan if she could go get Megs so that I could get a ride back. Tan zipped away and I lay there on the corner waiting for them to return. I put my gloves over my eyes as there was a bit of a glare out but just before I did, I noticed that I was just across from a sign that said, "Defribulator – 50 m ahead"! Now is that ironic or just good luck? Thankfully, I didn’t need to use it….

People kept slowing down to look at me but only one person actually asked if I needed help! They must have been thinking that I was never going to make it up Telegraph and Galibier if I was already on the ground just a few kilometers into the climb. The rescue vehicle soon arrived (Megs and Tanya were back) and I crawled into the front seat still clutching my stomach. When we got to camp, Rod was having a good laugh at my expense (no surprise there J ! ). The guys helped me into the tent where I laid down and they fed me some iso-protein shake and some food that I reluctantly choked down. My tank had hit empty and I clearly had no fuel in reserve because about half an hour after getting some food in me, I was back up on my feet and on my way to a hot recovery shower. That night, I must have eaten the equivalent of five or six portions (and I continued to do so every night before a big ride in fear of bonking again). 80 km, three mountain summits, and about 3 km from the campsite, I was running on empty – it was definitely the toughest ride of my life but I’d do it all over again!