Sam tackles the Pyrenees

Sam tackles the Pyrenees

12 September 2012

AFTER six years of hesitation, Sam Kane finally took the plunge and sent off his entry fee for the Raid du Pyrenean.

The punishing 720km crossing of the Pyrenees from west to east includes no fewer than 18 climbs, including the iconic Col Du Tourmalet, with participants given a time limit of only 100 hours to complete the course. That’s four days and four hours.

Flying over the vast mountains on route to Biarritz, Sam began to grasp the enormity of his task, with an almost confused sense of panic and excitement gripping him. But there was no going back.

“On day one I left the security of my warm B&B and slowly rolled into the cloudy dank morning, my first tentative yards on my 30kg Kona Dew bike, a very appropriate name as it would turn out,” he continued.

“With some pleasant rolling coastal road behind me I had to tackle the first two climbs which, although not drastically steep, became rather dramatic as I had to cycle through a fierce thunderstorm.

“With a howling cold wind, stinging torrential rain and constant fear of being smoked by the menacing forked lightening, I was eventually forced to stop and shelter. I was glad for an excuse to rest,” recalls Sam.

After 11 arduous hours and spirits literally washed away, he reached Laruns and with thoughts of a lingering soak in a warm bath, Sam couldn’t wait to find his hotel.

“It was such a body blow to be told that my hotel was in fact 5km away up a major climb. Angels come in many guises and on this occasion my angel was a local pizza man who lifted Dewdrop into his car and took me up that hill to heaven.....where my warm bath awaited. Merci Beaucoup.

“Day two started early with my body feeling as though it had been zapped by lightning the previous day. I slowly pulled on my damp, cold cycling gear, which did not help my less than enthusiastic state of mind. I was now feeling somewhat tense and anxious as my exertions of the previous day clarified just how difficult this challenge was.

“Had I bitten off more than I could chew? Should I have gone with a supported group? Doubts were knawing away my confidence and I knew I had to rid my mind of this overpowering negativity or I could find myself on an early plane home.”

With new found resolve and after a hearty breakfast, Sam was on the road by 9am and greeted with a 5km descent before he hit the first climb of the day where Dewdrop encountered yet more rain, which rapidly became torrential.

With the lure of a cafe at the summit, Sam slowly hauled himself through the freezing mist, where, wringing wet and freezing, the hot coffee and sticky cake was a godsend, although with so many sodden, or was it sodding cyclists, he could not find a perch near the warming stove.

There was then another long descent — somewhat spoilt by the torrential rain — before Sam stopped at Argeles Gazost where he loaded up with steak and chips and loads of other tasty nibbles, before tackling one of the most difficult and famous climbs of the trip — the Tourmalet.

He continued: “This I knew would be a real test but one which most amateur cyclists dream of trying one day. Slowly but surely I toiled against gravity as the endless coils of the Tourmalet slithered endlessly into the sky, like a giant anaconda, each hairpin relentlessly leading to the next. The pain in my legs matched only by the little gremlins on my shoulder whispering mischievously get off, have a rest, you don’t have to suffer anymore. Sure who will ever know?”

“The final 500m, with a 20 per cent gradient, is horrendous and with respect to Messrs Schleck and Contador, I decided to admire the view at this point and have a wee walk. Arriving at the top at 7pm, in a freezing howling wind, it was a bitter blow to find the cafe closed.

“As I stood, feeling unashamedly sorry for myself, my mobile phone sprang to life. My lovely wife, who supports me so much in all I do, was keen to know if my hotel room had a nice view. It was a short conversation!”

Descending the mountain and now longing for the sanctuary of a soft warm bed, Sam realised he had yet another climb to do before reaching his hotel — 35km away.

“Moments such as these, when physical and mental exhaustion scrape away any lingering drive to continue, really test your resolve, especially when travelling alone. But what could I do? There was no option, no rescue. I had to grit my teeth and keep going.

“Reaching my hotel at 11pm I was completely exhausted but my spirit was greatly lifted when I discovered a plate of cold meats, fresh crusty bread and a strawberry dessert had been left in my room....beautiful. I felt my angel was with me once more, although no sign of the pizza man.”

Sam set off on day three again wearing damp cycling gear, but it wasn’t raining and he felt he “could almost enjoy this.”

“After cycling through some beautiful scenery I chalked of another climb which, although not too steep, climbed forever, but with the smell of sweet crepes drawing me to the summit like a honey bee to the flower, I was now buzzing and energised. And I wasn’t disappointed this time and with 10 crepes for five euros I savoured every mouthful of this well earned crepe feast,” Sam continued.

“A fantastic descent, with long sweeping bends followed and with the advantage of weight, I whooshed past many of the racing boys on there lightweight carbon fibre machines, trying without much conviction to restrain the mischievous grin on my face.

“Full of confidence I passed over a couple of small climbs without trouble and just when I thought all was well in the world. Wham. I arrived at the bottom of a climb which I found difficult to stand on never mind cycle.”

Sam decided it would look better to all those lads he had swept past, so he got off and took some photos, but really he was in a panic and wondered how Dewdrop was going to manage this? He tried to get on the bike and fell off immediately.

“With no momentum and hoping nobody came along to witness my moment of weakness, I started walking up the climb, consoling myself with the assurance that I could not cycle up any faster anyway,” he explained. “Several bronzed wiry Frenchmen breezed past me with a cheerful Bonjour (Gawd I hate them with their superior fitness) but thankfully the gradient eased off to a point were I could guide Dewdrop to the summit, where a team of cyclists with backup took pity on me and provided me with food and water.

“They asked me where I was staying the night and I immediately sensed by their frowns I was in more trouble. They informed me my hotel was a further 35miles away and over two more difficult climbs. It was now already 5.30pm and I felt a cold dread as I knew I must keep going.”

It was at this point that Sam realised that relentlessly long damp hours in the saddle were catching up on him now. “Is my bum sore or is it my imagination?” he asked himself. As the pain intensified, Sam could only cycle standing up as to resume contact with the saddle caused him to wince in pain. Reaching St. Girons he realised his challenge was over. Stopped by a sore backside.

But what has he learnt from his journey?

Sam added: “I suppose I underestimated the difficulty of this challenge and should have used a support team to carry my gear, as weight on the climbs was a critical issue. I intend to tackle it again but at my own pace as the most important aspect of my cycling is to enjoy the experience.”