Chechu and Linda Hit It Off.

The promised meeting with the teams actually took place, but not for me. We’d broken into three groups. The really fast French riders went off to conquer more cols, the slow and social group left at 10 a.m. and our group of eight with two of the Roche team with us, departed at 10:30. We were led by Richard with Phillipe sweeping up the rear. Our departure from the hotel was a little frenetic as we quickly climbed through the streets of Lourdes, away from the river and out to the suburbs where we missed our first turn. After Richard pointed out a fine suburban home and declared it a memorable chateau we then doubled back to pick up the river route to Pau. “Excellent” was my thought, “a nice rolling ride downstream along a river, piece of cake.” The cake however rolls along at 35 kph-plus and we quickly make great time through a series of small towns along the river. There were white water rafting and kayaking courses but things looked slow at that time of the morning.

The pace didn’t slow as we passed through the entrance to the grottos of Betharram with its collection of miniature chapels and oratories perched on the slopes of the hills up to the grottos themselves. Very quick scenery, but nice. We’re supposed to turn left somewhere just beyond but we miss that turn and end up on a deserted road that, one sign tells us, leads to a zoo. Not to worry, this gives the group a much needed pee break (the French guys won’t stop unless the women in the group stick a frame pump in their spokes). After the necessaries are done, we head back to where we were supposed to turn and encounter the slow group headed the opposite way. They are taking the river route and we are headed over some nice little small-road “bumps” on the map. The little road from Arros-de-Nay through the thoroughly charming little village of Rebenacq has no named cols, but some sharp bites. I got to inspect Rebenacq since I had to double back to make sure that a sign didn’t say D34 which we were searching for. From Rebenacq the road to Lasseube goes over some roads marked with those little arrows that Michelin puts on its maps to tell motorists to check their brakes if they plan on going that way and to avoid in icy weather. Cyclists, however, pore over the maps and design routes that maximize the number of these arrows they include on their daily ride. This particular arrowed road caused me to drop back from the group and grind to the top as we split up according to gravity effects and fitness. I wasn’t last up the hill, that’s saved for the Stephen Roche “gars” who have to pick up the pieces. Anyway, when we split up like this, the faster folks wait at the top and I get to use my bulk to win the downhill derby, which is a freewheel race to the bottom.

I’d done part of the ride on the Tour route twice before and knew how to handle that largely downhill run into Gan and before too long we were rolling at 42 kph along the arrow straight, slight downhill into Pau. I had to pull for a bit while Richard took a phone call on his mobile. Goodness, those 90 seconds lasted forever. It may not seem logical, but it is actually easier to blow up pushing yourself faster down a slight grade. For every incremental increase in speed you have to overcome wind resistance that rises exponentially with your velocity. The thrill of going really fast is soon eclipsed by the realization that you can’t breathe anymore and your legs won’t pedal as fast as you need to go. Toasted, they call it.

As we got to Pau, we were directed across town to a parking area next to a “Maison de Nature” which some guessed was a nudist resort but was more likely a place for the ecologically-minded. This was close to a cluster of hotels near the Autoroute and the place where the US Postal and iBanesto teams were staying. The slow group had gotten there just as US Postal was coming in from their training ride and the group got a chance to take photos, get autographs and schmooze. They were gloating a bit after coming back over from the Postal camp when we rode up. Linda, a good rider in our group who led me up hills with her husband, Steve, decided that being a slow rider should not be rewarded exclusively and pedaled quickly over to the US Postal hotel and got Chechu Rubiera to sign her Roche jersey. So much for washing that bit of acrylic. I was too beaten down by the ride to do anything but eat my hard boiled egg and phone home. I hadn’t talked to Diana in a couple of days and knew I needed to call her since it was near her birthday. I was a bit hazy when I woke her at 7 am and as I rambled on about Lance and the small hills that can kill and the bad hotel in Lourdes, she got less and less responsive. Oops, it’s today.

We load up the bikes in the customized trailer that carries them behind the bus, pile in and ride over to Ainhoa in the heart of French Basque country and to what I know to be a good hotel in the country having scouted it when I was over this side of the Pyrénées last week. The group is sharing pictures of the cycling stars they snapped and videoed on their digitals and video cameras and I’m figuring out how to make up to my wife for forgetting her birthday. This is going to be expensive.

The hotel in Ainhoa, the Argi-Eder (argi.edr@wanadoo.fr) is all it’s cracked up to be. Back off the road, it’s a big rambling three storey in the traditional Basque style, tucked into the side of a hill, with a big pool, and nice rooms that let out onto balconies or small verandas. It’s part of the Relais de Silence chain that requires its hotels to provide peace and quiet as well as a bed and breakfast. Excellent, but can I sleep without noise now? I did sleep well and did keep to my promise to not ride the next day. I’d been on the bike for 9 of the past 10 days and needed a break.

The Argi-Eder is a refined (the only word I can think of) hotel that has an excellent kitchen and gourmet service as well as a pleasant setting near Ainhoa, one of the villages rated as “The Prettiest in France” by whoever does that for the French Tourist Board. It is indeed pretty with a fine old church in the center of town with the Jai-Alai fronton next to it and surrounded by a cluster of homes and a few shops and a couple of hotels and restaurants. It’s a tourist destination, but the road are too steep and too narrow to bring in too many. Nice.

We’re able to check into the hotel in time for some to swim and others to just relax after a much needed shower. The group gathers around the pool at a quarter to eight for drinks and the Roche team gently coaxes us to buy the spare jersey or matching bib shorts or monogrammed shorts, or whatever we might need to show we are part of the Roche group. The guys running the Roche tour are doing this for the first time—that is running a tour and ride associated with the Tour de France and they’re hoping to get the name out with the team apparel. I must say, we do look nice in the yellow fading to blue jerseys and matching blue shorts.

We have an apertif, then dine at the formal settings on a fish course of dorado and squid with a nice sauce pecheur. Then rack of lamb, followed by a cheese plate with a marvelous local berry jam, then a Basque cake covered in chocolate followed by cognac and for me and a few others, a Poire Williams made by Etienne Barna in nearby St. Pied de Port. I was told by a friend back home who had lived in the area not to miss out on this. I’m not a big fan of eau-de-vie, but this had a nice effect. When I went into the village for a paper the next morning I ended up buying a bottle for one of the guys who raved over it. The hotel has a collection of bas Armagnac that dates back to 1872 (92 euros a glass); equally fine ports and some very nice Bordeaux as well as the local products of the Brana family, which are held in high repute across France.

The next day I simply lazed about, going into the village for lunch and buying a beret and a paper then settled in to watch the Pau-Bayonne stage on TV and to see the pros suffer up the cols de Soudet, Larrau, Bagargui, and Burdincurucheta; the same cols I had “conquered” a week before. I smugly watched the pained faces in the peloton as they slogged up the 13% slopes. Happily, the first pro to get across the finish line was Tyler Hamilton. I have to note that France 2 television, which covers the Tour without breaks from 12:45 until its close, managed to catch Lance taking a pee while rolling along on his bike, a team-mate steadying him. I wonder if Liggett and company carried that on OLN?

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