The Road to Ventoux: Part III

The section from the Cote de Citelle to the next climb, the Col d'Ey, was beautiful and rolling. As we rode through miles of lavender fields, the scent gradually built up along with the heat, and I was doing my best to 'enjoy' the experience.

I was gradually building up time on the broom wagon, without feeling totally 'safe' yet. However,

as it got to a more 'sociable' time of day, the number of people by the side of the road shouting encouragement gradually increased, and began to make the experience feel really special.

I tried to acknowledge as many of the supporters as possible - because I was genuinely grateful for the encouragement, and also because it tended to make them cheer more!

The feeling of riding on closed roads with people shouting from the side was a sensational experience. Almost my favourite moment of the whole Etape was coming to the first roundabout

with a group of riders, and then splitting in half to go round both sides of it....just like the Tour! Stupid I know, but it made me

happy.

On this section, I got the chance to chat to people a bit. There seemed to be almost as many Brits as French folk. Bizarrely, I even met someone who used to live with a friend of mine from work.

I'd been watching the numbers of the people I was passing, and they were gradually getting lower - which was heartening. I was still amongst a fair few of the 9000's, but was now passing some 5000's and even some 4000's. Was good to be able to see some reflection of my progress.

As we were just about to get to the Col d'Ey, I came up behind a guy in a Welsh kit. As I overtook him, I gave him a cheery 'Go on Wales!'...(I grew up in Wales, and still feel kinda Welsh in my heart). However, as I looked round, I noticed that he looked a bit worse for wear. It turned out that he'd just picked himself up off the tarmac, after being hit hard from behind. He'd fallen badly on his hip and had also picked up a pretty nasty gash on his elbow.

He'd done exactly the right thing, by getting straight back on, but was still a bit shaky, so I said I'd ride with him while he sorted himself out a bit. I figured having a bit of company and someone to chat to might not help him out loads, but certainly wouldn't hurt. In those sorts of circumstances, you realise that it could easily have been you that had taken a tumble, and I'm sure Alun (for that was his name) would have done the same for me.

As we rode along and chatted, I think we both benefited from the experience anyway...it just makes the time go a bit quicker, and before you know it, you're another 5 miles along the road

without really realising.

Worrying about his injuries, was taking my mind off the gradual onset of soreness in my ownknees. I'd taped them up pretty heavily, but as the heat came on, the sweat from underneath started to loosen the adhesive at about 40 miles, meaning the pain came on at about 50 miles. It was pretty sore, but by no means a deal-breaker - it's always been more of a problem when walking than cycling...but that was a long-term worry...for now I was just thinking about getting through the day.

By this time, we'd reached the Col d'Ey - 6.3km at 5%. We took it at a steady pace and although it was longish compared to lots of British climbs, it wasn't a real killer and didn't put too much stress on the legs. It was good to have the company, and someone else to think about, and Alun even helped my morale by complimenting me on my climbing ability - the first and last time that's ever going to happen...I'm going to put it down to concussion or something!

The 'summit' came along without much fanfare, not even a bit of flat, just a curve round to the right and into the descent. This was a slightly trickier, technical one and I had to be a bit careful on this one, as I was only working with a rear brake. I'd been practicing using my body, and 'looking' towards my exits from corners to guide me out of them, and that definitely paid off as I got down without having to use my brake too much, and letting the bike flow a bit through the corners.

As I'd not really been pedalling too much, because I didn't want to get up any excess speed, Alun rode away from me for a bit. I knew there was a feed station in Buis Les Baronnies at the bottom of the descent, so I figured I'd catch up with him.

I hadn't anticipated quite how much chaos there would be though. There were probably 300 people there - bottles of water strewn everywhere and queues at all the tables. I had all the food I needed on me, so I just needed some water to make up my electrolyte drinks and I could get away fairly quickly. I was now about 45 minutes ahead of the broom wagon and starting to feel good about my prospects.