The Semi-Circle of Death

Click to enlarge stage profile

Saturday sees the 100th Tour's first foray into the mountains (about bloody time too, I say). This year La Boucle is running clockwise and so the Pyrenees come first. On Sunday, stage 9 heads from Saint-Girons to Bagnères-de-Bigorre over quite a few Pyrenean passes, including the Col de Peyresourde.

For me the Peyresourde will forever remain a part of Robert Millar Day, an unofficial, never to be repeated event about which you can read more here.

Click to enlarge climb profile

The climb of the Peyresourde from Bagnères de Luchon (the direction I rode it and the direction the Tour will tackle) is a tad over 15 kilometres long, takes in 939 metres of ascent and has an average gradient of 6.1%. Not an absolute monster in isolation (not for the pro peloton, anyhow) but in combination with another three first-category climbs, and a second-cat, in a 168.5 kilometre stage, it will be a sore part of a much harder whole.

Stage 10 of the 1926 Tour was an inhumane 326-kilometre-long brute from Bayonne to Luchon, crossing the Aubisque, the Tourmalet, the Aspin and the Peyresourde, and was nicknamed The Circle of Death. During The Breakaway we rode the Peyresourde and its neighbour, the ascent to Superbagnères, in the same morning and joked that we had ridden the Semi-Circle of Death. I can look back and laugh now but it was no joke at the time — sweltering heat, rough Pyrenean roads and a hefty dose of the holiday splats saw to that:

The temperature had rocketed in the hour since Super-B, further hampering my slog with a heat that

Laurent Brochard

fast approached Rolf Roasting Point. As we passed through a wee village called Garin, the gradient eased to about 4%, sufficient respite to allow my mind a moment or two of contemplation: I was going to empty both bottles of water over my head; I was going to turn around and freewheel back down to Luchon, throw myself into the fountain and cry for my mummy until she arrived to pick me up. My Laurent-Brochard-style bandanna/sweatband had filled to overflowing, was drip-dripping salty sweat into my eyes, into a headset top-cap bolt now rusted and ruined by days of perspiration. I dreamt of a cold sponge on the back of my neck, the way boxing trainers revive weary fighters. In fact, forget sponges, I needed an injection of something performance-enhancing, preferably deep-frozen and highly, improbably illegal. With that thought I rode over a slogan daubed onto the road: dopé salut.

To read more or buy a copy of The Breakaway - Cycling the Mountains of the Tour de France click here.

Never Meet Your Heroes - Their Jerseys Will Do

The main inspiration behind The Breakaway was a desire to ride my bike up the high-mountain passes made famous by the Tour de France. The art of climbing by bike has always held me in its thrall. I was (still am) a skinny chap, and so riding uphill was my forte, or at least I was better at it than most of my cycling peers. There was also a rather famous compatriot over in France providing inspiration (to me and many others).

Millar in Polka Dots

Robert Millar is the only British rider ever to have won the Tour’s King of the Mountains polka-dot jersey, a feat he achieved in 1984. In 1989, I was a sixteen-year-old riding my bike at every available opportunity. Millar was by then a 30-year-old, highly successful pro on the Z-Peugeot team. That year he won the summit-finish-stage from Cauterets to Superbagnères (which also included the climbs of the Tourmalet, Aspin, and Peyresourde), and finished the race in tenth place overall. I was a new convert to the joys of Le Tour and watched events unfold through Channel 4’s half-hour highlights programme, gazing wide-eyed at an exotic, exciting world, where men did battle on high-mountains passes with names like D’Huez and Marie Blanque. And in amongst all that exoticism was a Scot, a man from my own country — entertaining, awesome to watch and utterly inspiring.

The Breakaway - A Personal Piece of Tour History

One notion that I took away from the travels behind the story of The Breakaway was a sense that the climbs we had tackled were essentially the exact same roads the Tour peloton had been riding since the race first tackled the high mountains over one hundred years ago. The road surfaces had improved (tarmac laid onto the mud tracks of those pioneering days) but in essence the Col du Tourmalet I huffed and puffed my way up was the same that created the legend of Eugène Christophe in 1913, the same over which my hero Robert Millar led the race in 1989 (en route to stage victory at Superbagnères). Many of the climbs that the race will tackle this July will be the same sweet and savage roads I was lucky enough to ride during my own tour of France.

On Saturday 29th of June the peloton will roll out of Porto-Vecchio on the island of Corsica for the start of the 100th Tour de France. Whilst a sprinter, such as Mark Cavendish or Peter Sagan, is likely to don the first yellow jersey, it will be in the mainland’s high mountains that the race overall is decided.


With Bradley Wiggins apparently all but wiped from the public’s consciousness (how fickle the British sporting fan), Chris Froome has stepped up to the plate (or kicked Wiggins clean from it) to become pre-race favourite and undisputed Team Sky leader. Whereas Wiggins’ forte is the time trial, Froome will be looking up-slope to make his winning moves. He is a far better climber than Wiggins, perhaps the best in the world right now. On the high passes of the Alps and Pyrenees he and Team Sky will most likely put on a dominant display or, you never know, he will falter, allowing a rival to steal a march and make their mark on Tour history.

Each year the riders (with a little help from the mountains) create another instalment of Tour history to add to the archive, another layer of reference for the fans (those of us around now and those of us who will be around to see the 200th Tour). No two editions of the race are the same (although the Armstrong and Indurain eras were often predictably dull). No matter what kind of cycling, or cyclist you are into, there’s always something to look forward to.

This year, like Chris Froome, but for different reasons, I'll particularly be looking forward to the Ventoux summit finish (stage 15) and the Alpe D'Huez double (stage 18). There's a real sense of satisfaction to be gained from watching the peloton race up climbs you have tackled (albeit at comparably inferior speed) — pride (perhaps a little shame too) and a deal of (in my case, unashamedly) childish excitement. That’s one of the great joys of cycling, the fact that you can ride out your own fantasies, create your own personal sporting legends upon the exact same stage that your heroes (and a few villains) once strutted their stuff.

Click here to buy or preview a copy of The Breakaway. It might just inspire you to create some Tour history of your own.

Learning to Ride

Big Person, Small Person

Yesterday I had the privilege and pleasure of being on hand for my niece Edie's inaugural bike ride. The tiny balance bike had been our gift for her second birthday but we'd had to wait a couple of months for suitable weather and, more importantly, for her legs to grow sufficiently so that her feet could reach the ground when she sat in the saddle.

She and I went for a spin round a nearby park, me holding onto the saddle and coaxing, her steering, pushing along with her feet and chattering enthusiastically. I was chuffed to have been on hand for such a momentous occasion -  okay, so her first bike ride isn't quite as significant as first steps but I'm a cycling-obsessed uncle and such things matter to me. Whether or not they will matter to her further down the line is another issue. This little pink and white balance bike might be her first and last two-wheeled passion. Or, perhaps, she'll take after her uncle and it will be the first bike of many.

It's a Stelvio No-Go

Stage 19 of the 2013 Giro d'Italia is scheduled to tackle The Stelvio but it appears that Madre Natura has other plans. With the pass blocked by snow, and more forecast to fall, (at the time of writing this blog) race organisers look set to remove the climb from the day's route. You can check out the current summit conditions for yourself by viewing the Stelvio webcam here.

This Giro has been dominated by the weather, with rain and snow almost as prevalent as the blazing sun and azure skies we expect to see in Italy at this time of year. As for snow at the top of the Stelvio? It's a mountain pass that tops out at 2757 metres, so a little inclement weather is to be expected.

Stelvio 'easy' side in the sun

I've tackled the Stelvio from both the Bormio side (which this Giro was scheduled to ride) and the more famous (surely infamous?) ascent from Prato. The latter is definitely the harder of the two, one of the hardest, if not the hardest of the many climbs I tackled during The Breakaway. If you can only ever ride one Grand Tour climb I'd suggest aiming for this one. It's an absolute brute, a bona fide legend. Reach the summit (weather and legs permitting) and you'll have lifelong bragging rights.

So, here goes with a bit of bragging and a short extract from my Stelvio ascent for The Breakaway (don't say I'm not good to you!):

How many hairpins?

I could feel the energy evaporating from within, certain my fate was but a matter of timing, unrelated to the effort I expended, sand slowly draining from the hourglass. Then the cold shakes set in. 

"I told you to hurry!" The fear shouted its final warning and once again I succumbed, made a dash toward the summit to counter the risk of never reaching it. 

At hairpin 5 I changed up a gear and heaved round the pedals in a manner that suggested I had excess energy to give — head down, the alarm ringing in my ears, teeth gritted against the pain. At 4 my quads were in agony; at 3 I felt twinges of cramp; 2 and my lungs burned from the effort; by hairpin 1 I didn’t care that the summit lay just ahead at the end of the long, steep, straight ramp. Managing the next pedal stroke was my only concern.

To read more or to purchase a copy of the The Breakaway click here or visit Amazon.

The Breakaway costs less than an inner tube and you don't even need a Kindle to read it. Just download the free Kindle app and read it on your laptop, desktop, tablet or teapot. (I made that last one up.)

The Giro d'Francia?

On Sunday 19th of May, stage 15 of the 2013 Giro d'Italia will make a foray into the French Alps. The race was scheduled to tackle two climbs up which I soared (or was it suffered?) as part of my adventures in The Breakaway: Mont Cenis and the Col du Galibier. However, as of Saturday the 18th it appeared that heavy summit-snow and a risk of avalanches had resulted in both these climbs being withdrawn from the day's itinerary.

Had these climbs still been included then hopefully none of the riders in the Giro would have been as confused as I was by Cenis, nor as challenged by the Galibier.

The Breakaway ... and the Giro d'Italia too.

... and the Giro too

Okay, okay, so the title says it's all about the mountains of the Tour de France. Well, truth is, the travels (and travails) of The Breakaway actually kicked off in Italy.


Our first five days took in the Dolomites and Italian Alps, climbs that were breathtaking to look at and ride, passes infused by decades' of myth and tifosi passion. My first experience of riding in Italy was unforgettable, but so tough that it nearly ended out trip before it had properly begun.

Lake Garda Goonie

We were turned to Goonies by the darkness of Lake Garda's unlit tunnels, almost eaten alive by Dolomiti billy goats, truly humbled by the Stelvio, its innumerable switchbacks and silver-haired Shaolin monks.

Stelvio Switchbacks

The Tour is indisputably the biggest race but the Giro d'Italia is every bit as inspiring. Could it be the fans' passion, the Italian flair for style and drama, the azure seas and skies? It's all that and a whole load of truly immense mountains that make the Giro what it is. Unmissable.

To preview the book or buy a copy for only £3.99 click here or visit Amazon.