Ironbike Italy

The big storm closed Gatwick airport at lunch time for a short while, just long enough to stop our flight to Turin. We were given a flight from Heathrow to Paris, and then Paris to Turin the next day(with overnight accomodation thrown in.)Four hours later we arrived at Heathrow, our flight was delayed three hours. So,in Paris after midnight we only had three hours to check in. We slept on the floor. At check in we were charged for excess luggage,Paul disagreed and asked for our luggage to be taken off the plane. So we missed that flight. Five hours later we arrived in Turin and were met by Gianfranco and after a bonkers two hour drive with Gianfranco at times with his specs over his sunglasses to see signs, we arrived at Entracque(pron.Entrakway) the village depart. Gianfranco became a good friend, and was the man to know. He and the chef helped us out a lot.

The prologue itself consisted of ski run into the village. The course was about 1.5 km., with two 30%+ descents on grass! A couple of km's climbing on asphalt to reach the start showed that three hours of sleep is not a good way to start an eight day race :-)

Stage 1 - Entracque to San Damiano

At 80km this was to be a nice introduction to Ironbike.We started on a nice long asphalt descent for 6 km. Then a steep off-road climb which immediately had me in the 22/34 which I didn't change for the whole 8km!!I caught Paul on the first off-road descent, which was unusual. When we hit a descent I normally don't see him again! He said he was having trouble getting used to riding a hardtail. The terrain ensured that over the next few days he relearned the ways of the hardtail:-)On an exposed singletrack section at the top with Paul riding behind me, the helicopter suddenly appeared from behind the mountain in front of us, I think the pilot was enjoying himself in the Apocalypse Now style. He then swooped towards quite closely and as he passed the force from the rotors blew me off the bike. Cue....Bernard Manning style jokes from Paul about me "getting blown off" as he rode past.On the last asphalt climb to the finish I saw a group working together in front so I eased up to them and we worked together for the last few km's. The approach to the town lit up by the low sun was stunning, and the church front glowed golden in it's rays.Campo base here was in a beautiful sunny field and tea was held in the small piazza in town.
Altogether a nice steady ride to introduce the Ironbike. Ride time for me was about 6hrs.24m. Paul was 6.38San Damiano is named after the run down church in Assisi, where St Francis(one of my favourite saints)heard the word of God from the painted cross, telling him to restore God's house. After repairing St Damiano, Francis later realised that God meant him to restore the Church as a whole:-) aww bless... Wiki


Stage 2 - San Damiano to La Condamine

Today we needed lights!!Over the top of the first climb I start to descend some really rough stuff and a couple of hikers start to shout "Bolsa, bolsa and point at me. I stop and remember that bolsa means bag. My under saddle bag is swinging loose only held on by a few threads. As I move off the trail Paul passes, that's the last I'll see of him I think. It takes a couple of minutes to find some way to tie my bag on and I set off. This is a great slightly cambered singletrack and very fast and enjoyable. But, less than five minutes later I see Paul, this time he's in trouble by the trail... I stop.His rear brake rotor has come loose and the bolts are lost. He has two in his hand, I reason that three should hold it and take one of mine from the rear.The trail now enters a huge rockfield with big drops and slabs of slick rock. I overtake team mamiani here and make good time until I find a gap that the front wheel fits perfectly and I go over the bars. I hang back a to see if Paul's ok, he catches up and then sprints past for the finish of the special stage.At the CP luckily there's a mechanic and he has spare rotor bolts for us both, and we set off together. On a long fast asphalt descent, I notice that it's getting quite cold. After crossing a few beautiful bridges and through small tunnels, we head to the next climb.After starting the climb of the Col de Vars, with a group, I find myself with just a Catalunyan guy at the top. We work together on the descent which takes us to Les Claux. Here, I'm a little bit confused as we pull into a cable car station. Senor Catalan explains that we take a car up the mountain!......bonkers, I must have missed this in the briefing. We share, then spend a nice ten minutes talking about why Catalunya is not in Spain:-) We disembark and ride part way back down the mountain to get on a chairlift over the next part of the mountain. Here the nice French operator bloke takes my bike, stands me on the platform, gives me the bike to hold at chest height and points over my shoulder. At that moment a chair swings in behind me and sweeps my legs from underneath me and I'm away up the mountain trying desperately to hold my bike and grip the swinging seat with my buttocks. Once the seat stops rocking about I find I can pass one arm through the frame work of the armrest and relax a bit. At this point Paul passes underneath on his way to the station.At the top the next descent is footpath designated and the race is only allowed to use it if we respect this and don't ride.From the check point at the bottom we climb the 10km col de Parpaillon on wide off-road double track. Then we discover why we need lights, at the summit is the Tunnel de Parpaillon.

Taken from the Internet Landrover Club website: The road was built by the french army's corps of engineers in the late1800's. What makes it special is the high altitude of 2656m and the 800m longtunnel on top. After the invention of tarmac the neighbouring Col de Vars wasgranted a hard surface as it offered access to the same regions at 500m loweraltitude.

We were stopped at the mouth of the Tunnel by French soldiers and given rather fetching and warm looking green quilted jackets. I declined the offer and set off into the dark.....it was freeeeeezing!!!. It was full of huge puddles of crank deep icy water, I was shaking with cold when I eventually got to the other side of the tunnel.Now only an 18km off-road descent of loose gravel hairpins to finish..hurrah! Five km's later I have to stop to rest my hands and feet! And then again...etc. The last few km's are fabulous rocky singletrack switchbacks which drop us into camp.distance - 118kmI came in at 11hrs 15mins and Paul 11.34

From the IB site:As a note: applause to the French tandem team that after the stage was obligedto abandon the race, for a technical problem. They trained so hard! And weredefeated by the brakes (two sets has been changed since the beginning of theIB!).

Stage 3 - La Condamine to Barge

The Bargesi throw a party.

At breakfast it throws it down! It's not looking good as we line up to start in the pouring rain at 7'C, and so 20 riders decide not to start today. The stage started as a long 20 km grey climb that lasted for ever, I met Paul at the CP and where everything suddenly got better. A switch to narrow singletrack with a huge drop to the left and then some stupid steep rocky descents where I was able to overtake lots of people who were walking. Some hikers went past in the opposite direction and I said 'Good morning' and one said "are you English? We're walking to the Med."....bonkers!At the next CP it was blisteringly hot and Paul sat in a van, before we attacked the Col de Longet. A lot of this was a very difficult carry, sometimes climbing and the dragging the bike up after or helping other riders to pull their bikes up. As the col opened out it revealed beautiful lakes and huge grassy prairees. Then up 15 km's to the Colle del Prete and back into Italy for 20 km's of very technical downhill, culminating in some woodsy singletrack to Barge. My feet are sore!!!! Barge is a special town for the Ironbike and the Bargesi put on a special party in our honour. In the large sports hall of today's campo base (pron. bazzay), rows of tables had been laid with bread, wine and water. Center stage was the local crooner singing along to backing tracks. The songs were performed in Italian, but were almost recognisable British pop songs. A few notes would ring a bell and you'd think 'I know this one!' and then it would slip back into a soupy euro schmaltzy croon:-) ...absolutely fabulous!
I retired to bed early to catch up on some sleep. The Bargesi had other ideas. Half an hour later there was a loud bang, the ground shook and the sky lit up! The fireworks!! I'd forgotten about them and they were directly above. I lay, trying to ignore them for a while, but then got paranoid that sparks might set my tent alight.Paul was outside enjoying the spectacle, as were the locals. Who'd lined up chairs in an orderly fashion to sit and watch the show. It looked like a night at the opera as everyone sat, clapped and applauded each individual battery of fireworks. Until the grand finale when everyone cheered to a standing ovation. This seemed to be how it was done. Each time there was a show the locals would sit in a quite restrained manner to be entertained, and then show their appreciation with rousing applause. L'Italia è bella :-)
distance 116 km
Today I took 11.00 and Paul 11.30

Stage 4 - Barge to Torre Pellice

The lost hour.

Today was a later start after last night's celebrations, and consequently everyone felt relaxed and that it was all over bar the shouting. Even when Claudia announced that an hour was being taken off today's limit no one batted an eyelid.At the 9.00 am start it was already very hot and we set off up a baking asphalt climb out of Barge. This first climb was effectively 26 km's and soon moved onto a steep tree covered off road climb that became very dark and humid. Here I found Paul crouched over his bike. I stopped to help, but he said he was ok and I rolled on. After passing colle de Rucas, a renowned ski resort, we topped out on the colleto Super Valanza. The descent was a wide white chalky powdered track into a quarry, with huge lorries full of stone coming in the opposite direction. From the ironbike website:.....From Rucas athletes go up and down the Col Valanza (1530 m) passing on rough streets full of stones falled down from the trucks that work in this area. Infact, in this valley, the famous “stone of Barge” is produced. It is used for pavements and roofs, all over the world. I took a wrong turn here but was called back almost immediately by the riders Paul was with. I only lost about 500m but it took half an hour to get back up to Paul, he was strong today. After some rolling up and down stuff, we suddenly came to an almost vertical climb. Paul shows me how to shoulder the bike and we hike-a-bike to the top. An almost as steep descent follows where Paul goes over the bars on a muddy section. He's ok, so I roll on.At the CP Paul rolls in just as I'm about to leave and says we'd better hurry, there's only four hours to get back.There's a short descent which leads to the climb of the day ,15 km's the rifiugio Barant. The climb began with an impossibly steep asphalt section, I was in 32/34 and standing for the few km's. After five km's the road became a rough double track, now in the sun the temperature was 35'C plus. The road winds up and up, I glue myself to the backwheel of a friendly Italian rider. I ask the time at the top and realise that It's taken three hours and have an hour to cover almost 30 km's , luckily it's all downhill.....according to the map anyway. I need to be back before 6.30pmI have to average 30kph! I set off down the loose gravel off-road hairpinned descent, as fast as I dare go, the bike sliding around all over the place. But, as is always the case in Ironbike the downs are full of ups too! And I now feel time slipping away from me, this starts doing things to me emotionallyAt first I start to feel angry with ironbike for taking an hour off todays time limit and have a bit of a shout at them. Next I'm frustrated with myself for being weak and not training hard enough, so I have a bit of a shout at myself. Then I start to think about all of the people who've wished me well, and I'm consumed with an enormous and overwhelming sense of shame. Shame that I'm out of the race already, shame that I'm not trying hard enough, shame that I'm letting everybody down, shame that everyone's faith in me is being squandered.I think about each person who has wished me well : Jane, LCO, Maam, tios Grim and Beryl, Greg, The mighty D, KB..... Then the weird stuff happens and I start crying, sobbing with tears running down my face. I start to draw a lot of strength from this, then I pray........Is this the road to Damascus?15 km's of asphalt left and I'm flying, big ring and chain fully to the right. I like to think I'm gritting my teeth, but it somehow feels like a beatific grin :-). It's still very close and I cross the finish line and knowing that I'm within a few minutes either side of 6.30. I ask a guy watching the race what the time is and he says 5.27 and I think excellent three minutes inside the time.As I walk away I realise that he said five not six, and I walk back and say six? "No, five" he says.I'm too weirded to work out what has happened, so I get my bag and tent.On the way in I hear "Vegeteriano!" and see Chef waving to me. He's found me some Italiano veggie burgers and gives me a packet. It seems I've become his pet Vegetariano solo- their term for vegan :-) Just another example of how considerate and friendly the IB is.Tonight we camp inside an ice rink and pitch the tents on the concrete base, the other end is set up for tea. I have a little lie down and and Paul comes over and says " Did you make the cut off?" I said. "Yes" And he tells me that he didn't. I then explain that we didn't need to be in until 6.30 and he smiles. We work out that somehow he'd heard we'd got nine hours to finish(which we had after deducting an hour from the original ten hours)and had taken the hour from the nine. So, he thought we'd only got eight hours for the day!After tea I noticed Claudia had posted something on the wall. It was a print out of the messages that friends and family had put on the website. It was wonderful, everybody I been thinking about earlier had sent us both well wishes and luck. Now I had that stupid happy grin again.Later, I wandered the short way into town. Torre Pellice (pron.torray pelleechay) had put on a little show for us in the main piazza. It was about 10pm and a gently warm evening, people were sitting eating gelato, walking arm in arm or just chatting in groups. In the piazza they were sitting in orderly rows, oldsters all in deck chairs watching the show.The show was a middle aged songstress in tight jeans 'giving it large' to trashy europop, ie Born to be alive..etc - with a gaggle of local teen girls doing an enthusiastic synchronised dance routine in the background. Stupendous!!!!
distance 78km
I take 7.57 and Paul 8.26

Stage 5 - Torre Pellice to Pragelato

La Scala Reale (The Royal Stair Case)

We roll out of Torre Pellice on cobbles to start the huge 20km first climb to the colle de Vaccera, then we have a nice technical downhill to follow.Sometime later I find myself on a long steep busy road, when I hear shouting. I look across and on the other side of the river I see three IB riders, somehow I've missed a sign so turn back and find a bridge a km or so down the road. The trail now wanders along the river, occasionally crossing bridges for forays into small hamlets and then back to the river. I pass Jurgen the friendly Austrian fixing a flat and wailing in despair"It voz a nail" he says. "A nail, a nail on ze road, how can zis be?" and as I ride up the road I can still hear "A nail, a nail on ze road.....how?"A little further on I meet Paul, he's in a bad way, so I decide to ride with him. we ride past huge beautiful lakes and gradually the huge fort of Fenestrelle comes into view. Rising up the side of the valley and perched on the top of a pinnacle is a fairy tale style castle. We cross the road, enter the walls and zig zag our way up a steep ramp to the gate. And shoulder the bikes for a wide set of stone steps to the court yard. This is the start of a special stage and has a CP stacked with food, Paul tells me to try the bread and tomato and...........
......today was the day I discovered bruschetta (pron.brooshkettah locally) At home we might call it tomato sandwiches. In Italy it is a devine feast! Ingredients: A hunk of bread, some chopped tomato, some basil, some sunshine, lots of laughing and loads of loud talking! Ridiculously tasty, it made me bend double in delight :-)
We decided to get moving and rolled down to the start of the special stage, as we got there Paul stopped to fiddle with his bike and I set off. Paul came through the start a minute or so later and called up to me. I stopped and waited for him and we hiked and carried the bikes the 4 km or so of steep spiral track that wound it's way around the peak to the top.Now is the bit we've been waiting for, the Scala Reale 900 steps back down to where we started the climb. Initially the steps are rideable and then we move into the fort and so pitch blackness, now the height of the steps starts to vary and some are missing altogether. In the darkest parts volunteers are shining torches. I try to bail out on one of these sections and hit the wall with my shoulder, leaving a lovely manly graze on my right deltoid. Once outside again we ride bits and walk bits, quite disappointed at how much we have to walk. At the bottom Paul nips past to the stage finish.

Meanwhile at the front of the race sometime earlier:from the IB site-Many of them make all steps on the saddle (unbelivable) others, instead, come down with the bike on the shoulder. It’s exactly on one of those external starways that the brazilian rider does not succeed to brake properly. He falls down, careless of the safety protections. He raises immediately after, under the eyes of emergency personnel that was there to take care of him. He starts again and continues with a scratched arm, while the Cezck Sibl Radoslav and his fried Miroslav were behind him, fighting with the steps of the covered stairway.The fall, gives the brasilian a new force, never seen. He assults the steps with increased determination and comes down until he reaches the square at the feet of the fortress. He detaches Sibl of 6 minutes by because of coefficient 2, minutes become 12. Therefor, in the general classement Hugo Prado Neto is always 2nd but with just 25 points of distance from Sibl.

Now it's just a steady 12 km to Pragelato. It's very hot and the steady ride turns out to be a roller coaster of short sharp climbs each higher than the next, followed by cruel sharp descents that steal any height gained. Paul is seriously flagging now and getting slower and slower, I ease back to wait several times. Eventually we reach the outskirts of the town and are joined by a group of Belgian guys, one them of does a bit of a jokey sprint as we approach the finish and because I'm feeling a bit fresh from riding slowly with Paul, I have a bit of a dig too. Great fun.
Tonight's camp is in a pine wood at the edge of town, and we pitch between the trees.I go down to tea, and see Paul and he says I've checked the results and we're still in the race and under 50,000 points. We managed to get some potatoes which is unusual and delicious.I decide to go back to get my gps that I've left charging in the massage room. While I'm there I have look at the results. It's true we are still in the race, but I notice that Paul is now above me in the standings. I assume that they've made a mistake and reversed our finishing times, but can't understand why Paul didn't mention it earlier when he checked the points. At this point Paul and Claus appear and I say 'I think they've mixed us up when we came in today. Paul then explains that it's not only where you come overall but also how fast you do the special stages and today's special stage was double points.I feel that this is crazy , because it feels like I been penalised by the race for helping a mate when he wasn't going to well.I could have ridden back by myself and saved time, in fact I could have pressed on at the fort when he held back at the beginning of the special stage and called up to me, when I waited. Or when I helped with his rotor and he jumped past at the end of the special stage.............er hold on a minute. And the day after the rotor incident when he suddenly jumped ahead over the special stage finish line, which I mentioned at the time and he said "It doesn't make any difference, you started after me". ............mmmm.As I lay in my tent I started laughing to myself when I realised what could have been happening :-)Did he know all along? As I write this I hear a loud and definite shout in reply from those who know Paul....." Of course he did! It's soooooo Paul" ................ But, I'm not sure.Tomorrow is the day I'm looking forward to, we go to Mount Chaberton!

90km
I took 9.26 Paul 9.29

Stage 6 - Pragelato to Mont Chaberton

The Queen stage:

At breakfast it was announced that only the first 50 people reaching the last Check point would race on to Fort Chaberton, where they would spend the night in the ruins.I was bitterly disappointed, my whole reason for the trip was to climb the mountain to Chaberton - the symbol of the whole race to me. I was lying around 65th at the time and felt like pulling out of the race there and then.
But, first we have to be taken to the start of the race, this means a 15 minute freezing cold chair lift to the top of the mountain. This time I accept their kind offer of a warm green quilted jacket. I wear it like a smoking jacket, but for some reason the danish men amongst us snatch this opportunity to wear it as a skirt! I don't know much about Denmark and so must accept this behaviour as normal :-) Here is where I pick up my first real injury of the race. As the chair swings under my legs, the chain ring stabs into my knee cap and draws blood....ouch!
The start of the stage was a fast, and in places, very steep wooded singletrack. I managed to get a good start not far behind the fast boys and was able to hold on through the technical descent. A fast wide trail then ran alongside the river where I could roll a big gear. The next section was an asphalt climb of about eight km's. I attacked this as hard as I could out of the saddle all the way up. Later I spotted Ludmilla and tried to stay with her. Another eight km's or so of off-road double track followed and then some ups and downs, where the air smelled strongly of coriander. I couldn't see any, but it was incredibly strong and and made me feel a little bit giddy with it's pungency......delicious. This led to a sharp peak with antennae on top. This was a hike-a-bike section extreme! I had fitted my ironbike carrying strap (...... patent pending:-)) and used it in anger for the first time.At the CP at the top I saw Benoit, one of the Belgians who bears a striking resemblance to Paul's favourite tdf rider... Vinikourov, tucking into the food. I thought he must be having a bad day as I've never ridden in his company before. I passed through and left him there.The next 14km was a mix of off-road, road and singletrack descent that dropped me into the CP and to my disbelief people are still setting off to Chaberton! I run around trying to find if I can still go and Lana and Andre grab my bike take it to the front and I run to get some food. They and Gianfranco push me over the line with a jam sandwich.

-Lana and Andre were a wonderful dutch couple we met in the food queue on the first night in Entraque. Andre was racing the Ironbike himself, but crashed out quite spectacularly on day two and spent the rest of the week wearing a neck brace and hobbling around on crutches -

My mind is still a blur, as I set off for Chaberton. I made it, then whoops! I nearly go off a loose bend. I get a bit paranoid in case I crash and don't make it. Then a flying thing gets under my helmet strap and stings or bites me, it's very painful and now I start to worry about anaphalaxis preventing me from finishing today :-) It's now very hot as I start the first part of the climb, some locals pass water to me and one woman runs alongside me and tips a full jug of ice cold water over my groin!!! I yell loudly in shock and everybody laughs - it must be how they amuse themselves in the mountains :-)

Mount Chaberton on Google earth here: You need google earth installed on your machine.

From here we head off-road, at first shaded by trees and then opens up to the grey rock of the mountain itself. Soon it's impossible to ride and I start to push, the track becomes narrower and much more rocky and I shoulder the bike using my carrying device. An hour later and I drink the last of my water and I have no food. It is still blisteringly hot. I assume that there will be water on the trail somewhere, but I can't see anything as I look up the mountain - only the track winding on for ever. For the next two hours I carry the bike, occasionally getting a chance to push it on the smoother sections. I'm beginning to feel quite thirsty and dizzy from hunger. Now the mountain rears up quite steeply and as I look up, I see a figure walking quite sprightly down the trail. I say hello and he says. " I am hiking to Cesana. I have told them to send water down, everyone has been asking for water. Do you have water?" I say I have no food or water. He replies " I have no water, but I have some biscuits." And before I can protest he hands me half a dozen. I thank him, put them into my pack and press on. Now is the real test. I'm a vegan, but are the biscuits? I'm feeling very hungry and quite dizzy from the low blood sugar. I decide that I can't be sure if the biscuits are safe for me to eat. I look to see if my friendly benefactor is nearby, he's not. I cast the biscuits down the mountain, so that they can't tempt me anymore. I rationalise this by telling myself that "I'm hungry, but not starving" In my addled state I start to think it was a test, the IB is testing me to see if I am strong enough. "Yes, that's it, it was a test" I say to myself......... "Get thee behind me Satan, begone!" ........ :-)

An hour later, I'm three hairpin bends from the finish and breathing is a little more difficult at over three thousand metres of altitude. I carry the bike for 30 steps and rest, 30 steps and rest....... until the top hoves into view and I see the finish line, I stagger across and they write down my number and that's it! No cheers, no fanfare just my rasping breath. I see a bottle of water on the table, take it and down it in one. All around people are lying around in the warm rays of the evening sun, all wearing red fleece jackets, black fleece leggings and white hats. Claudia grabs me and drags me into the ruined building and I am surprised to be walking in six inches of snow! And it's cold, freezing cold, I immediately begin to chill and shake. Claudia hands me a bundle of clothing and shows me to my bed in the snow. I rush outside to get some heat and get changed.


I find my bag that had been sent up - we had to hand in a small bag at registration, containing riding kit for the day after Chaberton - in it I had stashed two energy bars and packet of noodles. Once I'd devoured these, I started to feel a bit better and thought I'd better get a few photographs. I sat on the peak and asked Heinrich to take my picture, an oldish distinguished looking guy moved up next to me and smiled to the camera.
I didn't know who this chap was but found this later on the IB website:
Turin Major Chiamparino climbed the Mountain by feet, in the morning,and wasthere to plause the first to come. He was together with the majors ofClavière,Cesana and Montgenèvre.
Politicians!..... never miss a photo opportunity:-)
I sit on the edge of the mountain and phone Jane in Ibiza, it sounds like she's a few feet away. Tentatively, she says. "Did you get up the mountain?" I say."yes". I hear Yaaaaaaaaaay! and then Yaaaaaaaaaay! in the background, it's LCO on the extension. After several euros worth of yaaaaaays(it's expensive to call Ibiza from Italy), Jane confesses that they'd been practising commiseration platitudes all day. Such as: Never mind I'm sure you tried your best, There's always next time.......etc. So I guess I must have caught them unprepared :-)
As the sun sets it begins to get very cold, someone lights a huge bonfire and warms up an equally huge vat of red wine. We tuck into some pasta..........siempre pasta!

The sky was so clear that you could see a billion stars.