Anyway, hopefully Salted Mackerel will cease languishing quite so lazily in 2012, and also develop in some directions that I had not planned when it was first envisaged.

Twitter chum Nick wrote eloquently (and in his inimitable style) about the things he learned in 2011 on the blog of his soon-to-be-launched company Vulpine. In contrast, I thought I would put together a scrap book / heap of things and ideas that I hope to put into action over the coming months.

First off, the new business. Not a Bad Dad, launching (hopefully) in the next couple of months. More on that another time…

The house – despite the efforts of the aforementioned squirrel, the newly painted downstairs does look very good and hopefully I can get the rest of the place finished in the next few months. Should have some more pics up soon.

Climbing rocks. My climbing gear has been sitting in a massive box in the garage since I moved in nearly 3 years ago and I’ve not tied onto a rope for at least 5. This is going to change in 2012. I think a re-acquaintance with Peak gritstone will be the first tick, followed by some Cornish granite, and maybe even a visit to my trad nemesis, the Swanage sea cliffs. All this with the aim of progressing (before too long) to some foreign rock – maybe a sport climbing holiday somewhere baby friendly, and possibly a visit to the States – Red Rocks, or Yosemite or Zion…?

Cycling. Thanks to an idle past few months I think 2012 isn’t going to be my greatest astride a saddle, but I intend to fit in some decent mountain biking – Snowdon again hopefully – and some road riding on foreign tarmac. A few days in the Alps would be excellent, and maybe I can escape to the Italian lakes at some point too. No major sportives planned though, and any racing ambitions have been placed very firmly on ice.

Add to that the Continuing Adventures of Sibylla, the small matter of a wedding in September, and that lot should keep me pretty busy…

Fingers crossed.

And now some videos to help with the syke [sic]…

Jenn Flemming – The “R” Series from DPM CLIMBING on Vimeo.

Enzo Oddo Sends La Rambla 9a+ (5.15a) at Siurana Spain (video) from Prana Living on Vimeo.

Sonnie Trotter, Master Blaster, 5.13c/d from Sonnie Trotter on Vimeo.

Patagonia ’10 – Round One from Pete Rhodes on Vimeo.

Australia Climbing Adventure_THE MUSICAL_Total Eclipse from Cedar Wright on Vimeo.

Boogie ’til You Poop from Cedar Wright on Vimeo.

However, yesterday Luke declared,

“Brand “collabs” have become so fucking boring and predictable. Most of them are just a way of boosting PR for a couple of weeks. Lazy marketing.”

I had to disagree. As I see it, the majority of brand collaborations are indeed lazy, senseless PR exercises dreamed up by imbeciles with lofty job titles in bullshit management. But despite this, there are plenty of marvellous potential collaborators just waiting for someone like me to pluck them out of obscurity and drop them together into a mutually-beneficial metaphorical double eggcup.

Such a pair are Atco and Gucci.

Atco is a British heritage brand. They have been making the finest lawnmowers since 1921. They have two Royal warrants, and are well-steeped in mowing history. They are a strong international brand, but need to diversify their image if they are going to appeal to a younger generation of gardeners, who might currently identify with funkier, Japanese lawnmowers produced by manufacturers such as Honda.

Gucci is an Italian producer of clothing, leather goods, watches and jewellery. They were also founded in 1921 (see, I told you.) Gucci’s product range is aimed at wealthy arrivistes, footballers, self-made nail salon millionaires, and men who drive Mercedes convertibles. Gucci desperately want to direct their brand away from those particular demographics and instead focus on heritage-appreciative rugged old-money types. As such, a collaboration with Atco could truly be a match made in heaven.

As you can see above, Gucci’s signature red and green stripe almost exactly mirrors Atco’s red cutting blade and green body paint. This really is just too easy…

Below, you can see a previous collaboration Gucci undertook with Fiat. Alas, no self-respecting gardener would ever been seen dead in a car like that.

So, here we have the first set of images produced by the Salted Mackerel Brand Collaboration Consultancy.

I give you Atco x Gucci.

And here is another project that I’m currently developing for another pair of clients…

Atco
Gucci

Can’t believe a whole year has gone since the 2010 Hastings and St Leonards CC Battery Hill Climb. We arrived a bit late, just as the final riders were grimacing up the steep slope. Pete Tadros produced the fastest time of the day, which should bode well for his ride next weekend at the National Hill Climb.

Each day consists of a selection of timed “predominantly singletrack, predominantly downhill” stages, linked together by “predominantly ascending untimed Liaison Stages”. Most stages begin with a minibus uplift, allowing a greater proportion of downhill riding to uphill, although the latter is still considerable, at around 1350m per day.

Compared to other enduro events, especially those like the hugely popular Megavalanche, T-P is very small – only 55 riders. However, because of the quality of the route and organisation, it attracts the very best enduro riders in the world. This year, entrants included Nico Vouilloz, Fabien Barel, Jerome Clementez, Mark Weir, Mark Beaumont, and Tracy Moseley.

Having been glued to the videos and coverage of T-P 2011 over the last week, I came to the conclusion that this race is without a doubt something that I want to ride more than any other. I can’t think of anything else that really tests the skills and abilities that real mountain biking demands more than this. It’s not enough to be a one descent wonder – you’ve got to be resilient enough to keep the focus and drive throughout seven consecutive days, and be ready to push hard downhill after riding up big steep hot hills.

Now the Nomad is built up I’ve got the perfect machine for the job. I really want to enter the 2012 event – I just need to figure out if I can really commit enough time to the preparation, and also come up with a strategy to possibly include my then wife and little daughter – perhaps they can be the support crew?!

I’ve linked the Vimeo films covering this year’s event below.

Trans Provence Day 1 from Trans-Provence on Vimeo

Trans Provence Day 2 from Trans-Provence on Vimeo

Trans Provence Day 3 from Trans-Provence on Vimeo

Trans Provence Day 4 from Trans-Provence on Vimeo

Trans Provence Day 5 from Trans-Provence on Vimeo

Trans Provence Day Six . from Trans-Provence on Vimeo

Trans Provence Day 7 from Trans-Provence on Vimeo

Trans Provence

Yesterday I finally ticked a long-held ambition – riding the Snowdon Ranger Path. Not only that, but we did it there and back in a day, which turned the whole affair into quite a full-on mission.

Up at 5am, we made it to the Ranger Station car park sometime after 11am. The blazing sunshine blasting the rest of the country was not in evidence. Instead, mist and steady drizzle. On the basis of the reputation of the trail and the mountain scenery, I had packed a variety of devices including SLR (with enormous heavy lens), helmet cam, and small camera for handheld movies. Together with a plethora of spare tubes, tools, water and lunch, my rucksac was preposterously heavy. Eliminating all of 300 grammes by leaving the small camera behind, I shouldered the load, and we set off up the hill.

The initial hill is pretty steep, and it wasn’t long before we started pushing. The new Nomad had been on a bit of a pre-trip face-stuffing-fest, acquiring a tough but heavy Mavic 729 rear wheel, and dual ply Minions front and rear. As such, it didn’t exactly levitate up the steep slope. The drizzle had stabilised, and it was pretty warm, so it didn’t take long until we looked like a pair of drowned rats. The trail towards Llanberis forked left off the Ranger Path after half an hour or so, taking the form of a trampled grassy track up a vertiginous bank. Strong calf muscles required.

The track finished at a notch east of Foel Goch, a bit over 300m vertical from where we had parked the car. I had prepared a decent picnic lunch, consisting of home-baked bagels, filled with smoked salmon and cream cheese, plus boiled eggs and carefully wrapped pickled onions. We tucked into our first helping, and admired the slightly less misty view clearing down the valley.

The decent from the notch down Telegraph Valley is long, fast, a bit loose, and punctuated with aggressively-designed stone drainage channels at regular intervals. I had taken the precaution of fitting heavy-duty rubber to my wheels to counter the threat of impact punctures, and the super tacky compound would hopefully grip the slick wet rock as well as anything. Well, it almost felt like I needn’t have bothered – the Nomad ploughed through or over every rough rocky section with serene composure. I had fitted the PUSH Industries Nomad linkage the day before, and hadn’t had time or opportunity to test it. Well, the result appeared to be as promised – very little change to the pedal-ability (when spinning anyway), but the already plush initial stroke had deepened through the travel, with a creamy, more linear sensation. The final part of the stroke is supposed to be even more of an effective mechanical preventer of bottom-out than the original linkage. Well, I had the Bottom-Out setting on the shock fully off, and didn’t feel the bike reach the end of the travel all day, so I think they’ve done a pretty amazing job.

We descended swiftly, and then cut across the valley to Hebron Station where we picked up the main Llanberis Path. This trail up the side of Snowdon has a reputation for remarkable displays of inappropriate mountain attire, and we were not disappointed. For every well-layered and properly-booted individual, there were probably two t-shirt and trainer wearers. I should point out that, at this point, the drizzle had taken a long look at itself in the mirror, pulled out a handgun a few times, and reinvented itself as cold, stinging rain. As such, the more extreme outfits that we witnessed were acknowledged with that mutual, knowing shake of the head best exemplified by staff working in outdoor shops when a customer purchases a heavily engineered lightweight carabiner specifically to attach to the outside of their rucksac. The 12 year old in tiny skirt, t-shirt and plastic slip-on shoes won yesterday’s Honorary Snowdon Flip-Flop Award.

The regular rocky steps make the Llanberis Path a bit of a bastard to push a bike up. It looked like it would be a fun descent though, and a few riders were picking their way down. Mostly taking it slowly and unsteadily, apart from one guy who looked like he knew what he was doing – less braking and more speed creating a smoother and more flowing style. However, the number of people on the trail would’ve put me off – dodging sullen teenagers and Liverpudlian grandmothers is not my idea of wilderness mountain biking.

We reached the summit, whereupon the wind and rain lashed with a greater ferocity, and it was clear that the decent was going to require even more care and concentration that usual. Whilst I psyched myself up for this arduous undertaking, visualising an efficient and effective style and applying it in my mind’s eye to the rocky, precipitous chutes and gullies that we had experienced on the way up, Alex reappeared with a can of lager. Apparently a group of enthusiastic walkers had carried this beer all the way up the mountain, and had decided that we were the most worthy recipients of its foamy delights. As such, we consumed it with reckless abandon. I don’t recall a can of Fosters ever tasting as good as that one did. Around the same moment, another chap appeared – long-haired, wearing shorts, two bin bags, boots without laces and small nylon Clifford Chance bag strung over his shoulders – lost, with only a biro-scribbled map and an acute lack of navigational know-how to get him down the mountain. Imagine a slightly effeminate law student shipwrecked on a rocky Norwegian island with nothing but the stuff he pinched on his last work experience placement and you get the idea.

We started off down the trail. There were a few sections towards the top that we chose to carry, mainly on account of the slick rock and various long drops either side. The start of the Ranger Track proper was a different affair though – a gentler angle, fast, but with plenty of rocky obstacles. The Nomad was quite happy to plough over it all – having spent a lot of time this year on a carbon hardtail that has to be threaded down a trail with the precision of an anally-retentive brain surgeon, this new-found liberation made the decent much more pleasurable.

The tough sections of the Ranger Trail are really really tough. It’s hard to see if there are other alternative lines when you’re already committed to another, so there might’ve been ways around sections that brought me to a squealing stop. Without recourse to near stationary trials-style riding, I can imagine that some of the bigger drop sections really need a bit of speed and commitment to clear. But they reappear with such regularity that you need to be in the right place on the trail at all times – build up a bit too much speed and hit a narrow gap, and you can say bye bye to that rear mech. It was in such fashion that Alex managed to taco his large chainring around two thirds of the way down.

Having carried all the photographic gear up the bloody hill, I barely used it, save for a few pictures towards the top of the trail. I won’t make that mistake again. I have some non-misty but dull footage of the Telegraph Valley track, and then quite a lot of howling wind / mist obscured descending of the Ranger trail. Both will need a bit of editing before appearing here.

The trail eventually begun to level, and rock was replaced with muddy puddles. It was not long before we passed the turn-off point from earlier in the ride, and all that remained was smooth singletrack that descended to the road in a series of sweeping switchbacks. Having bought a parking ticket that I had failed to position in my car (erroneously leaving in my pocket instead) I was relieved to find the car unimpounded.

A fine day out on the hills.

Rob English has procured me a PUSH suspension linkage (as mentioned previously) – PUSH don’t have a UK distributor it seems, and wouldn’t supply me direct. Tut tut. It should be arriving soonish, and it’ll be interesting to see how the bike feels before and after.

I had planned to take the Nomad to Australia this Xmas, and it might still go with me. It all hinges on how the bike performs during longer (i.e. all day) rides that involve a fair amount of up as well as down. I certainly don’t want to take an all-out XC bike with me – I’m enjoying my Whyte 19C at the moment, but mainly because its speed uphill is so flattering – I’ve lost quite a lot of fitness since July in the Alps, but the Whyte and I are still flying around my local XC loop at record pace. But I still find it quite a challenge to descend flat-out on the 19 – it’s pretty twitchy and the front end is low too.

I’ve also been toying with taking the Cove Stiffee, which I’m currently rebuilding in parallel with the Nomad. But again, whilst that bike is amazing fun downhill, it’s also a bit of a compromise, being a bit of a pig to ride uphill (not helped by the fact that it’s a 17.5″ frame and I’m nearly 6ft3.

So, I was looking for an alternative, and that’s when I discovered the Santa Cruz 4X (pictured above). Santa Cruz bikes have been off my radar for quite a few years. I hankered after a Chameleon before I bought the Cove, and was always aware of the V10, but the rest of the range has slipped past over the last few years without me noticing – shame on me really, as the brand as been so innovative over the years. The Blur 4X in particular (uncharacteristically) crept past as if it was in disguise. This amazing, rare and completely cult frame was only produced for a limited period, and has become the stuff of legend. Totally new school geometry – super low BB, slack head angle, relatively short seat tube but longer in top tube and wheelbase. Perfect for aggressive fun riding. They’re very few and far between, and the one I had set my heart on was an ex-Syndicate team bike – probably one of only a tiny handful in the world. Alas, it slipped out of my fingers…

Over the last few days I’ve been musing over some other options, as well as researching more about the riding in Tasmania and near Melbourne. I’ve just fired off some questions to Vertigo Mountain Biking, who organise guided rides around Tassie about the kind of terrain to expect.

I’ve also been reading about the Santa Cruz Blur TRC. The TRC could be considered the spiritual successor to the Blur 4X, although there are some notable differences. Number one of these being the fact that, rather than the slightly overbuilt aluminium chassis of the 4X, the TRC is constructed entirely from carbon fibre. The frame weights a scant 5lb, with the shock, allowing a lightish build in the 24lb area. A tougher build would still put the bike well under 30lb, making it eminently suitable (in principle) for longer ascents.

In principle, because the geometry and attitude of the TRC is entirely focused on handling and behaviour at speed and in the bends. The BB height is 13″, head angle is 68deg, and the wheelbase (of the large size) is 44.4″. Ok, the seat tube (of the large again) is 19.5″ when the same measurement of the large 4X was 17.2″, which helped when you wanted to get the saddle out of the way, but I don’t think that would do too much to detract from the qualities that this new bike is proudly sporting.

It’s not cheap though!

(On the other hand, having got over the acquisition and subsequent disposal of some truly shit bikes – most notably a 2007 Kona Stinky Primo (a bicycle so heavy and pig-headed it ruined every single ride I took it on, tried to kill me twice, and cost me a fortune to get rid of – rather like a bad divorce) I have since decided that life is too short to ride around on crap bikes. So watch this space…)

Wildkogeltrail from miraculix on Vimeo

Santa Cruz UK

Vertigo Mountain Biking

I bought a set of Enve 6.7 wheels, but these are too chunky to fit my brakes without some modification (shallow pad holders probably) – anyway, I doubt I’ll use them on anything other than the smoothest local roads.

More excitingly, I abandoned my plan for building a brand new fancy all mountain bike from scratch and instead decided to build a second hand fancy all mountain bike instead. I bought a pretty decent 2010 Santa Cruz Nomad frame (complete with Fox DHX 5.0 coil shock), which is currently clamped to my Park stand awaiting the arrival of various tools to transform it into what I’m hoping is going to be a riot of fun going downhill, and not too painful going uphill. Planning to get hold of the PUSH Nomad linkage too – the stock linkage is a nice chunk of carbon, but a bit of a compromise when used with a coil shock – the PUSH version, well, this is what the guy at PUSH says:

“The link is for you if:

You run a coil shock.
I like plush, active suspension and hit bigger impacts such as drops and jumps.
I sit and spin most of the time so a little extra pedal induced bob isn’t a big deal.
Shredding the DH trails is the name of the game because I have a Blur for my XC days

The link is not for you if:

You run the stock DHX-Air or RP23 shock.
I like a snappy responsive suspension feel.
I’m known as “Hammer” or “Lance” amongst my riding buddies because I stand on the climbs.”

More details soon.

In the meantime, some decent videos I’ve recently discovered…

Eddie Roman’s Hammertime from Eddie Roman on Vimeo.

Ride On from Eddie Roman on Vimeo.

3/365 from Jin Yeah on Vimeo.

Spectrum: full length movie from Fullface Productions on Vimeo.

MTB – Verbier/Kranz Montana, June 2011 from Hans Jørgen Moe on Vimeo.

A pleasant Friday afternoon flight to Geneva, pick up at the airport by the two GPM10 lieutenants Sandy and Steve (both successful young racers), a swift transfer to a great little hotel in Megeve, decent dinner, and then bike assembly.

The following morning: a fortifying breakfast, signing on at the sportive HQ, then a well-paced ride along the valley to Flumet and up the Col des Aravis. I couldn’t quite believe that the climb up the Aravis was my first ascent of an Alpine col. As mentioned before, I’ve toured across the Pyranees and ridden in the Himalayas and the Andes, but have never ridden a road bike in the Alps. The climb was superb – testing but not too much so at the pace selected, and the views and situation were both magnificent. The weather looked changeable, but despite some worrying clouds and a chill wind at the top, we weren’t troubled by the elements.

GPM10 honcho Mark Neep met us at the top of the Aravis, and a pleasant lunch followed. I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Alpine riding really can be done in a lot of style, especially when I noticed a fellow cyclist out on the veranda – a heartily substantial meal was arriving in front of him, course after course, liberally sloshed down with chilled beer.

The Criterium Daupine arrived at the Aravis shortly afterwards, which provided a brief flurry of excitement, and then we remounted the bikes for the descent back to Megeve. It was the first time I’d ridden the English down such a lengthy and weaving descent, and the effort that had gone into the design and geometry was clear – the bike was super stable descended like a dream.

The following day started early. Breakfast plates were piled high with nearly everything on offer, although the huge pan of lasagne that the chef had thoughtfully knocked up for any morning pasta fans looked rather sad, untouched as it was. Mark, Sandy and Steve were all riding the event too, and there was a faint whiff of pre-race tension, particularly from Sandy, who had designs on the win. Steve kept reminding him that it was a sportive, not a race, but with a variety of pros riding (the event is sponsored by Time, so some of their riders are expected to ride) the front of the field would definitely be competitive. I was content to munch my way through a pile of bread and cheese, blissfully ignorant of the challenges to be encountered later.

The decent from Megeve to the start at Sallanches was blissful – no sound except the whizzing of freehubs, and staggering views of the Mont Blanc massif looming magnificently over distant Chamonix.

The town of Sallanches was rammed with riders, most of whom were doing their best to disprove the much-lauded but entirely inaccurate theory held by the British that so-called Euro riders sit at the top of the pyramid of sartorial cycling style. I have never seen as much mismatched neon lycra, petrol station sunglasses and questionable socks in my life.

As GPM10 has a decent relationship with the event organisation, we were in the initial pen of two hundred riders, with more than two thousand in the pens behind. The atmosphere was fairly relaxed, with just a hint of urgent energy. And one poor bloke with his bike upside down trying to fix a probably phantom mechanical.

When we eventually received the instruction to depart, a fair amount of one-footed skipping was required until we cleared a bottleneck, and then all hell broke loose. I had been warned that the Frenchies like to set off at a decent lick, but this was ridiculous. The first twenty or so kilometres ran north along the pan-flat valley floor to Cluses, and the speed of ragged line of bunches hovered between 25 and 30 miles an hour. I was content to sit on the back of one sensible-looking bunch, and stayed towards the middle of the road, the better to avoid any collisions with protruding curbs.

At Cluses, the road to the Col de la Colombière split off and before too long the climbing began. The temperature was hot, and I let my speed fall to a relative crawl, unlike the hordes of Frenchies who were stamping their pedals in some mad rush to the top. The Colombière was a tough climb, and the last few kilometres were made mentally miserable with the remaining road to the top visable in full, snaking in a long ramp to the top.

There was a feed station at the Col, where I grabbed a bottle refill, and quickly slurped it down. I went on to make my only real mistake of the day – pedalling off with only a half-filled bottle to sustain me till the top of the Col de la Croix Fry. I had convinced myself that the drop from the Colombiere was only marginal, and the next col and feedstation not far beyond that. Not very clever..

The descent of the Colombière was amazing. It went on and on, fast and with a succession of exhilarating hairpins. There was very little traffic and the whole thing was a hoot.

However, it quickly became apparent that the vertical drop was considerable, and the heat in the valley floor below was substantial. The field was pretty strung out at this stage, and our little group span along for some distance before the road started to rise towards the Col de la Croix Fry. I tried to make the sorry dribble in the bottom of my bottle last for as long as possible, but it was all gone well before the road kicked up properly.

Despite impending dehydration, the ascent of the Croix Fry was memorable, and in mostly a good way. There was a enjoyable variability in steepness, with 10% sections presenting quite a challenge, but these were interspersed with lesser angles, and the surrounding landscape was impressive enough to take my mind off at least a proportion of the discomfort building in my legs.

The top of the Croix Fry was quite bleak, but there was a welcome sight in the form of the GPM10 van, manned by Mark’s girlfriend Fanny. In the back was a panoply of bars, drinks and gels, bananas, bottles, nuts and dried fruit. I spent a few glorious minutes gulping Bikefoood drink and forcing bars down my throat, pocketing a selection, filling both bottles, and eating a final banana before wobbling off down the road, considerably more full than when I had arrived.

I had not set out with any particular plan for the ride, other than to ride at a sensible pace with the aim of gauging my ability to ride over big hills without completely ruining myself. I could feel a degree of fatigue in my legs, but nothing serious. With three different length circuits, Time-Megeve is quite a decent sportive for those unsure of their ability in the hills. The turn-off for the shortest at XXX km had already passed before the Croix Fry, but the route would split after the next hill, and I was pleased that I had absolutely no interest in cutting my day short – it was definitely going to be the full route.

The descent of the Criox Fry was short and sharp – possibly I had been confused between this and the descent of the Colombiere. Anyhow, it only felt like moments had passed till we were snaking up the Aravis. Well-fed and hydrated, the climb passed more smoothly than those previous, and before too long I reached the summit. Just a brief stop to sling on a gilet, then down the hairpins we had passed up and down the day before. At Flumet (or beyond??) the turn off to the Col des Saisies was taken, and the first few metres of the ascent caused the first real manifestations of muscular unpleasantness – some cramp-like twinges, along with an increasingly uncomfortable hotspot developing on one foot. I stopped and did what I could to remedy both ailments, and then pressed on for the summit.

The route up the Col des Saisies split off from the descent route after a couple of kilometres, and some of the already won ascent was lost skirting around for the approach via Crest Voland. The climb was quite tough, particularly after the previous efforts of the day, and the difficulty was compounded by the heat, which was noticeable and unrelenting. I managed to maintain a determined smirk on my face for most of it, and most of the other riders grunted cheerfully at my mostly inane comments when passing or being passed, but the general appearance by this stage was grim determination. There was a welcome section of descent through some forest towards the top, and then the final few hairpins rose up towards the top of the Col.

The summit was big and flat and windswept, and populated mainly by overweight touring motorbike riders, festooned with helmet-mounted microphones and bad sunglasses. In the middle of all this was a feed station where a considerable bunch of cyclists were tucking into the delights on offer with a degree of enthusiasm commensurate with the degree of energy expended throughout the day. I gulped down a few cups of Coke, and spent some time munching on some decent cheese, a couple of chocolate fingers and a banana, before somewhat reluctantly leaving the impromptu picnic and pedalling down towards the finish. With tiring legs a brief section of uphill midway down wasn’t really cricket, but it didn’t last long, and the course eventually met the Flumet Megeve road. There were still some kilometers to go, so I decided to stick with another chap, and we rode in determined silence towards the finish.

I finished the sportive in 6hr48, which was pretty unspectacular, but considering I’d spent nearly an hour stationary, and also taken it very easy up the Col de la Croix Fry, I wasn’t particularly disappointed.

Quite how I would’ve managed another 30 miles and 1500m of climbing I’m not sure – the Marmotte is going to be a different class of challenge I think. But even so, I awarded myself a pat on the back.

The others had fared pretty well – Sandy managed 13th overall, and Steve wasn’t far behind in 64th place. Sandy had stayed with the leaders all the way to the final climb, but halfway up the Saisies he’d started to suffer as a result of his meagre rations – the eventual winners had enjoyed the fruits of their soigneurs, but Sandy had had to make do with the contents of two bottles of drink and some gels. Still, a remarkable performance all the same.

Back to the hotel, a quick change, stuff the bike in its box and we were off to the airport for the flight back. As I drove home, in the dark, pouring rain, it was hard to believe that I’d been spinning up those Alpine roads only hours before. There’s definitely something to be said about the benefit of weekend Euro missions – you really can pack some serious experiences into such a short period of time, and GPM10 are definitely the best boys in the business.

Now, lets see if I’m as chirpy after the Galibier…