Tout le monde connait le célèbre chocolat Milka. L’emballage de la marque est encré dans l’esprit du consommateur : un emballage couleur lilas au milieu duquel figure la célèbre « Vache Milka » aux taches violettes, célèbre mascotte de la marque.

Toutefois depuis quelques années, la marque Milka utilise dans ses spots télévisés  une marmotte. Cette marmotte  est représentée dans la publicité comme étant le fabricant artisanal du chocolat Milka. Le spot télévisé fait appel à l’humour et est décliné en fonction des différentes recettes et nouvelles saveurs du chocolat Milka.  Cependant, la fin du spot publicitaire se termine toujours par la célèbre phrase : « Et alors la marmotte, elle met le chocolat dans le papier alu! ».

Après le succès de Milka tendre croquant et Milka mille éclats, Milka a présenté encore de nouvelles saveurs : Milka Caramel, Milka tendre moments caramel, Milka raisins, bref, la marque ne cesse d’innover pour le plaisir de chacun

Aujourd’hui, la marque se renouvelle encore  en sortant un chocolat SANS SUCRES  AJOUTES.

Voici  deux publicités de Milka mettant en scène la célèbre marmotte (pour Milka tendre croquant et Milka mile éclats). Personnellement j’adooore !!!

Je n’ai  pas trouvé de spot publicitaire pour le chocolat sans sucre ajoutés mais j’en ai trouvé un autre pour Milka 100 calories pack. Celle-ci n’utilise pas la marmotte et est plutôt banale mais je trouve de manière générale les publicités de la marque VACHEMENT sympa :-)

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer de Beyoncé et vous déguiser en Vanessa Paradis. Mais évitez de chanter “Jay le Taxi” s’il vous plaît.

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer de Rick Ross et vous déguiser en DMC de RUN DMC. Mais évitez d’être torse nu sous votre survetement s’il vous plaît, le cuir et la transpiration ça pardonne pas.

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer de Vinnie Chase et vous déguiser en gros beauf dégueulasse qui fait ses exercices quotidiens. Mais évitez de m’expliquer où vous avez caché votre téléphone portable s’il vous plaît.

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer de votre pizzaiolo préféré et vous déguiser en moustache géante. Mais évitez de prendre l’accent stupide de Mario s’il vous plaît.

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer de Dennis Rodman et vous déguiser en prostituée Hello Kitty. Mais évitez de mettre un pantalon sans ceinture s’il vous plaît.

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer de Chris Brown et vous déguiser en connard sans scrupules ni regrets qui nargue son ex petite amie qui a encore mal à la machoire. Mais évitez de le faire pour Halloween en fait, l’effet sera plus beaucoup efficace à la Saint Valentin.

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer de Tiny et vous déguiser en citrouille. Quoique non, évitez s’il vous plaît.

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer de Nick Cannon et vous déguiser en Musclor. Mais évitez de sortir votre “grosse épée” hors de son fourreau s’il vous plaît.

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer de Toni Braxton et vous déguiser en belette cocaïnomane. Mais évitez de garder de la poudre dans le nez s’il vous plaît, ça fait un peu désordre.

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer de Ne-Yo et vous déguiser en colon européen qui organise une soirée privée en l’honneur des nouveaux esclaves qu’il vient de vendre. Mais évitez d’en rajouter une couche en exhibant fièrement vos diamants de Sierra Leone s’il vous plaît.

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer de ce chat et vous déguiser en Jabba le Hutt. Mais évitez de croire que la moindre souris peut se transformer en Princesse Leïa s’il vous plaît.

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer d’Amy Winehouse et vous déguiser en Pamela Anderson. Mais évitez de mettre une mini jupe si vos cuisses n’ont pas encore subi la même injection de silicone que votre poitrine s’il vous plaît.

Si vous n’avez pas encore trouvé votre costume pour Halloween, vous pouvez toujours vous inspirer de la haute couture et vous déguiser en Grippe Porcine ambulante. Mais évitez de vous approcher de moi s’il vous plaît.

en ce matin parisien une heure de sommeil offerte pour “voir” la couleur des marmottes …

une fois en montagne quelqu’un a dit : “il y a ceux qui voient et ceux qui ne verront jamais”…

Modèle Angélique.

Taille M

Marmotte / Lapin.

VENDU

Après une année d’horizon plat, il me fallait une immersion vitale en montagne. Voilà qui est fait et qui va être refait!

Cliquez sur l’image pour accéder à la gallerie

Découvrez en quelques photos les merveilles de la nature sur ce sentier de Vanoise où nous avons cheminé jusqu’à la chapelle des Glières.

Party van julle het al gehoor ek weet van marmotte. Soms wens ek so hulle was skapies wat ek leer om aan te jaag. Die marmotte se huisie is so oulik, as hulle bang raak vir iets dan woerts hulle sommer gou-gou met hul leertjie op na die boonste verdieping. Oubaas het die leertjie vir hulle gemaak. Hy is sommer ‘n slim honne. Binne-in die boonste verdieping het hulle nog ‘n kassie! Daar is ‘n gaatjie vir hulle om daarin te kruip en die kassie het ‘n dekseltjie op. Hulle is baie snoesig in daardie kassie, veral as dit reën en ook as dit koud is. Ek wil ook ‘n marmot wees. Ek dink dis lekker in daardie kassie. Nie eers daardie woef wat my so laat skrik het sal my dan daar kry nie. Ek sal binne-in die kassie sit en vir hom terug woef as hy hier vir my kom woef.

Julle moet net hoor wat is die twee marmotte se name. Fizzie en Olifant! Poplap het hulle so genoem en Ounooi het net gesê, “watter name vir sulke twee diertjies!, kon jy nie aan meer oorspronklike name of meer marmot-name gedink het nie!” Dit het nie vir my geklink of Ounooi baie beindruk is met die name nie. Ek weet nie ook nie of ‘n marmot soos ‘n Olifant lyk nie, maar ek sal ook nie weet nie, ek moet nog leer van olifante. Ek moet nog leer van fizzies ook. Ek wonder of hulle soet is.   

O ja, julle sal seker wonder oor al die tonnels wat julle hier sien. Dis vir die marmotte, hulle speel speletjies en dan kruip hulle daar weg. Een tonneltjie laat hulle uitgaan waar julle die baksteen sien – regs agter. Oubaas het die baksteen by die opening gesit, want hy het gesê hulle moet nog eers gewoond raak aan hulle nuwe plek. Ek het ook gehoor dat hy bang is dat ek hulle gaan wil seer maak en hulle moet my eers gewoond raak.  Hy weet net nie, ek is ‘n soet honne en sal hulle net lek. Hulle kan maar uitkom en grassies kom eet, ek sal net vir hulle kyk. Ek sal hulle groot kyk.

Ounooi is lief vir verf, maar Poplap is nog liewer vir verf. Poplap teken baie mooi en is baie lief vir teken en verf. Ounooi raak net partykeer moedeloos as Poplap eers begin, want sy sê dan gewoonlik, “Poplap, al jou goed staan die hele wêreld vol, ons het nie eers loopspasie nie!” Dan moet Poplap eers van die verfhouertjies se dekseltjies opsit en haar pastelle toemaak en haar verfkwassies gaan was en al haar kunswerke op een plek kry, in plaas van die hele mat vol. Ounooi sê dis alles haar eie skuld, want sy het haar baie laat verf toe sy ‘n baba-kind was. Ek dink ek moet ook verf. Ek is ook nog ‘n baba-honne. Poplap sal my leer verf. Ek weet dit sommer.

Die oggend toe ons hier aangekom het, het Ounooi-ander aan die deur kom klop. Sy het vir Ounooi hierdie blomme gegee en ‘n kaartjie en ‘n vars tuisgebakte broodjie! Ounooi was so bly oor die broodjie. Sy was seker honger. Sy weet seker nie mooi van tuisgebakte broodjies nie. Sy het net met ‘n hoë stemmetjie gesê, “ag, hoe dierbaar! Sjoe! Ek gaan heerlik smul aan hierdie broodjie!” Ek weet nie wat dierbaar is nie, maar dit het vir my geklink of sy diere wil eet. Ek het gedink sy gaan my miskien saam met die broodjie wil eet en ek het in die hoekie gaan sit en vir die mooi blomme gekyk. Poplap het gesê, “dis my gunsteling kleur rose en boonop Mamma s’n ook.” Oubaas het niks gekry nie, hy het vir Ounooi die blomme in die water gesit. Ek dink hy wou seker ‘n houtwerkmasjien gehad het, want hy hou daarvan.

SIES!!!! Ek gee tien woefe vir die iemand kan raai wat hierdie gemors is!! Ek gaan een leidraad gee. Dis ook iets van ‘n ander honne! Ag sies, ek wil nie so ‘n honne wees nie!

Wat ‘n vervelige dag! Ek was gister baie lank op my eie en het maar net rond gesit en rond gelê en niks gedoen nie. Partykeer het ek vir Fizzie en Olifant gaan loer. Ander kere het ek sommer net vir alles wat uit die lug val gekyk. Ek het gisteroggend so ver gestap. Oubaas-hulle stap baie vroeg in die oggend met my en dan weer laterig in die middag en ek is nog ‘n baba-honne. Hulle weet nie hoe moeg kan ek so ‘n baba-honne raak nie. Ek het die hele oggend in my bed geslaap, skoon poegaai na die oggend se ver stap. Poplap-hulle was winkels toe en Ounooi het binne die huis gewerk en net twee keer uitgekom om klere aan ‘n paal met groen drade te hang. Ek wonder of die kwaad kat by Ounooi-langsaan ook sulke lang groen drade het. Ek slaap sommer weer as ek dink aan hoe daardie kwaad kat vir my ge-ssssshhhhhh het. Poplap was slim. Sy het vir my ‘n leiband gekoop wat sommer baie lank is. Nou kan ek sommer baie ver vooruit hardloop en dan lank sit en rus. Dan is ek nie so moeg soos gisteroggend nie.

Ek het ook nou gelees dat daar mense is wat op my blog graag kom lees oor “marmotte” en iemand wou weet wat marmotte eet. Ounooi en Boeta-hulle gee vir hulle graag die volgende soggens vroeg – die marmotte “roep” hulle eintlik as hulle dit nie gou genoeg bring nie! : blaarslaai, wortel, komkommer en appel. Als in stukkies gesny sodat hulle lekker kan kou. Daarby kry hulle dan hul marmot-pille (amper soos hondepille, maar spesiaal vir marmotte). Marmotte is ook lief vir strooi, hulle slaaphokkie word gereeld skoongemaak en dan word daar baie strook in die boonste deel van die hokkie geplaas waaraan hulle dan te heerlik smul. Ek hoop julle geniet julle marmotte, want ek hou baie daarvan om hulle groot te kyk. Ounooi-hulle dink ek is ‘n slim honne as dit by marmotte kom!

I decided that to keep up the momentum and improvement, I really need a good challenge. The Etape has been a tough one, so what’s next? Well, as I now have the cycling bug, it seems clear to me that I should have a go at the big ride, the fabled ‘Marmotte‘. This is a serious climb in the Alps – a total of 5,180 metres of climbing and 170+km of riding in a single day.

However, a) that looks tough

and

b) I promised to spend some more time at home doing DIY

so the Marmotte is the target for 2011.

For 2010, I wanted to try a sportive ride in Italy, so after recommendations from Lew, an Australian on the Etape group, and from a cycling friend in Milan, I have set my heart on the Maratona dles Dolomites. This is 4000m+ of climbing (so more than the etape), but is a shorter ride, and Lew reckons it’s easier. It also has a great reputation for organisation.

Getting a place is difficult and so it looks as though I will have to buy a package through a tour company, but there are a few that are partners, so I hope to get one.

That means continuing to lose weight – another five or so pounds from my etape weight, at least, and some serious climbing practice. I’ve already booked for the ‘Legs of Steel‘ ride in September around the Surrey hills and I think those hills are going to get some serious attention from me this winter!

So, before I forget, some final stats of the ride.

The figures fortunately bear out my story .  I had a bit of a disaster on the Glandon followed by a steady improvement in position as the ride went on. 

Overall I finished 262nd which is pretty good out of 5,300 finishers – not least as I was ahead of a considerable number of the 400 ‘elite’ starters.  Within my category (ie 30-39 year old males) I finished 119th out of 1,600 riders.

Not a staggering ascent of the Alpe – though there’s a couple of extra minutes in there for the stop at the support vehicle.  Either way, Pantani can breathe easy.

Amazingly the fastest time of the day was 6hr09 which puts my efforts into perspective!

The full ride details are here.  In summary

And the best official picture

Thursday

We decided this year to skip the extra day on the Alpe, nice though it was to spend time there last year.  AndyC and I were driving down at an obscenely early hour via the Eurotunnel and the fantastic French road system.

We were meeting up with a bigger group of guys organised by the excellent Paul Martin – 28 of us in total.  In the back of the van we had 3 other bikes; Bigfooter DaveM and two renegades CliveH and SteveF who were flying together from Stansted.

The plan was to get to the Hotel Pelvoux in time for tea which we managed no problem.

Friday

Friday was a nice day to chill, plan and enjoy the surroundings.  After a briefing in the morning we wandered round the town and I picked up an absurdly expensive jersey (€150).

We gave the bikes a quick shakedown by riding up to the lake.  It was the first time I’d got in the saddle for ages and frankly it didn’t feel that great.  My legs felt tired and my pedalling laboured.  The views were terrific though!

The other chaps picked up their race packs and we headed down to Bourg for a spot of lunch which was fantastic.

I spent ages mulling over my packing options.  The team of chaps we were riding  with do a brilliant job offering support at three places on the route.  However, the number of options this gives  and the fact that the weather conditions can be so variable makes the decision process strangely complicated.  Anyway, I packed up three bags with bottles, powders, potions, bars and gels ready for the morning.

My preparation in the last week had been far less than ideal.  A spot of gastric flu the weekend before meant that I’d been unable to train as planned (I barely had the energy to climb the stairs let alone ride) but also left my body depleted so that when I did a little training on Tuesday I suffered terrible cramp during the night that I was still feeling the effects in my calf muscles 3 days later.  This was cause for concern so I went to the pharmacy and the nice lady gave me some magnesium tablets and French ‘deep heat’ which smelled pleasingly of lavender.

Saturday

Despite getting an early night and sleeping well the alarm at 5 o’clock was still pretty shocking.  Up we got and forced down some breakfast.  The day starts with a chilly descent of Alpe D’Huez which was much more fun this year than I remember.  It was really exhilarating and great to get back on the bike after so much rest.  We were herded into the town – luckily were were in the first group (after the elite riders) and would be starting at 7:00.

Last year I managed 8hr20 which was a reasonable first attempt.  I’ve trained hard this year and was hoping at least to beat the 8 hour mark.  Last year I rode my bike a lot and in the process got pretty fit.  This year I’ve cut out a lot of the ‘fun riding’ and had a much more focussed and structured plan which has involved a lot of hard sessions on the turbo.

I thought that I probably had a 7hr45 and maybe even a 7hr40 ride in me this year but that was before my compromised preparation, aching legs, inability to train in the last week and mechanical problems with my bike had dented confidence.

To the Glandon

The first bit of the ride is a half hour blast along the valley dwarfed on all sides by mountains.  Everybody is pretty pumped up as the 1,600 riders in our batch burn off some adrenalin and it’s the perfect way to get the legs going cruising along at 45kmph almost effortlessly.  AndyC, DaveM and I set off together but in the melee Dave dropped off the back somewhere.  AndyC was displaying his usual ‘leave nothing on the road’ mentality and we ripped up the first couple of undulations.  Not content with sitting in on a fast moving group were were straight on the attack and swiftly got to the foot of the Glandon.

Glandon Ascent

The first test of the day; a 25km climb.  Only 5% or so on average but a tough and inconsistent climb.  It ramps up pretty quickly and Andy and I set about making our way through the crowds.  Probably a little quicker than I would have liked as my heart rate was a bit high but I thought we’d settle in.  After half an hour into the climb we got separated and I backed off slightly.

Unbelievably I had cramp in my calf muscles already!  After the first little test.  To say I was a bit gutted was an understatement.  I backed off completely when I hit a small town and rested my legs.  I was half tempted to turn round and head back there and then.  The Marmotte is a murderous day even when on the finest form.  The idea of spending 8 or 9 hours enduring cramp for a poor time did not strike me as a great way to spend time.

“6 months training for this!”.  Anyway, I stopped moping and decided that I’d ride to the top of the Glandon and see how I felt.  If I thought I would be able to survive the ride then I’d do it, otherwise I’d turn back.  Once past the summit there would be no going back.  I felt that all thoughts of a good time had gone, instead I would ride to finish if it was going to be possible.  Any number of the riders that I’d past on the initial climb were now streaming past me which was humiliating.

Just before the summit at least a friendly face appeared.  DaveM caught me up and was going well.  We made the first support car together, stocked up and went on our way.

Glandon Descent

“Fuck it” was what I actually thought.  If I can’t climb well at least I can have a good go at the descent.  I dropped Dave instantly and set about making the most of the downhill.  I remember last year relishing the views.  Not this year.  I was totally focussed on the next corner and maximising my speed.  The top section is a bit dicey and there’s always a few crashes each year, some fatal, but I negotiated them well and felt good.

At the bottom I felt okay but started to wonder where everyone was.  With 7,000 other people doing the event it would seem impossible that there could be no other riders in view but that was the case.  At other points in the ride this isn’t a problem but with the ‘boring flat bit’ coming up the last thing I wanted to do was ride on my own wasting precious energy.

Road to the Telegraph

This is the only slightly unpleasant bit of the Marmotte route.  Slightly uphill, 25km or 35km, unglamorous single and dual carriageway. It’s not the organisers fault of course that the mountains don’t all join up perfectly but still it is a shame.  There is a very simple strategy for surviving this part of the ride; find a group to sit in and eat and drink like crazy.

Simply put trying to consume  anything whilst either climbing or descending is very difficult.  When you are climbing even taking a quick sip of a drink can leave you hopelessly gasping for breath, let alone trying to eat.  Descending at pace requires a good deal of concentration and hands on handlebars!

I pressed on alone for a while and actually felt pretty good on the flat-ish roads.  The cramp was long gone and I was setting a good pace.  Finally a group caught me and I joined them.  I ended up doing a couple of turns on the front which was not really the plan but anything to hasten the arrival of the next climb.

Telegraph Ascent

I was the only one of our immediate circle of 5 that had ridden the Marmotte before so I was in the position of dispensing various bits of my acquired ‘wisdom’ whilst trying to make clear that I was extrapolating from a single ride.  One of these little gems was that the Telegraph was a nice little climb.  Mainly as it is, compared to the Glandon, a consistent gradient.  What I had forgotten in the year that had passed was that it is consistently bloody hard.  And really hot and exposed.

I was heartened that I was climbing OK and I dropped some of the group I’d been riding in.  My legs were cramp free and I made steady but sure progress.  With about 3km to the top I could feel a few twinges in my legs in my quads and hamstring but not in my troubled calf muscles which was a great relief.  I backed off a tiny bit and continued to mix in efforts out of the saddle.  I hit the top of the Telegraph and pressed right on.  I’d been promising myself a piss for some time but I wanted to save it for a treat, however mad that might sound.

Telegraph Descent

Something odd happens when you push your body hard physically.  It affects you mentally as well.  I started singing, not out loud thank god, the chorus of White Lies’ Farewell to the Fairground, the bit that goes “Keep on running…” over and over again with tears in my eyes.  Very odd.  But motivating and I tore down the hill.

Valloire

The short descent from the Telegraph takes you down into Valloire which in turn, after a brutal little kick, brings you to the Galibier.

Galibier Ascent

I started the Galibier as planned with a nice piss by the side of the road.  I managed to get on and off the bike without any cramp which was a good sign.  My back was holding out too on the climbs was was good news – I’ve sold out and started stretching since my trip to see Jo McRae and I reckon this was paying dividends.

The climb starts innocently enough with a playful 5 or 6% gradient that softens you up a bit.  Then at Plan Lachat you cross a small bridge and it turns nasty.  Straight away you’re faced with a wall of a climb which sets the tone for the next 45 minutes or so.  It’s a brutal ascent which gets harder and harder.

It was on the Galibier that the memory of suffering from the previous year returned.  It seems that the brain, probably for reasons of kindness (or more likely as an ardent evolutionist – survival advantage), is incapable of recalling exactly what pain and suffering are like.  Climbs like this really hurt and go on hurting for a long time which is very hard to relate.  The thought “I’m never doing this again” goes through your mind countless times.  The roadside markers counting down the kilometres are a mixed blessing.  When it says 3km to go but you can see the summit towering above you it means nothing.

The last few kilometres are particularly tough.  Road traffic is directed through a tunnel and only the crazy carry on to the top as the gradient stiffens to 10, 11 and 12%.  Though not for me the horrendous cramp of last year, of being bent double over the bike.  I was straight on to the big ring and into the descent.

Galibier Descent

The second support vehicle is just the other side of the summit so a couple of turns later I was forcing chocolate brownie and diet coke down.  I’d said to the chaps that it would be a good idea to have a ‘treat’ to give you something to look forward to during the climb.  Actually it was a pretty shit idea I think and I didn’t really enjoy either of mine.  I was very quickly on my way, water bottles replenished and jersey stocked with bars and gels.

I set about the descent in much the same vain as the Glandon.  Singing away to myself I was taking no prisoners.  It’s an amazing descent but again I had no time to enjoy the views.  During the descent there are 7 tunnels of varying lengths and illumination – or rather un-illumination.  Going from the glaring sun to a pitch black tunnel with no time to remove the shades is a bit of a hazard.  You can just make out the guys in front as they are silhouetted against the darkness.

I’ve never been so inclined to take risks and I overtook cars in the tunnel on blind corners and lorries without plain view of oncoming traffic.  But having come this far and worked so hard I didn’t want to compromise my time.

As I started to see signs for Bourg D’Oisans I started to think that, actually, after all, I might be on for a reasonable time.  In fact 7hr45 was looking possible.  I kept my head down and worked in a small group as the kilometres ticked down.

Alpe D’Huez Ascent

I was feeling pretty good at the bottom of the Alpe.  Not brilliant.  But good.  7hr45 was still on which was awesome and motivating.  Unfortunately this year the weather was not so kind and the sun was beating down.  The first couple of turns on the Alpe are brutal.  12% easily at points.  The final support car was placed at hairpin 18, or three long turns up the hill.  The guys were brilliant and turned me round in no time with a fresh drink and gel to get me up the hill.  I stripped off my helmet and gloves, poured cold water over my head on got on with the climb.

And so the climb ground on with a succession of relatively flat hairpins followed by walls of tarmac of varying levels of intensity.  There were a couple of water points on the way up and it was such a relief to have half a cup of cold water to drink and the other half on my head.

I was not climbing brilliantly but steadily and there were plenty around me off their bikes or in a worse state than me.  With each kilometre marker I was trying to do the maths to see what time was possible.  7hr40 looked about do-able.

As I came out of the trees another of my absurd nuggets of wisdom came to get me.  Who was it that said “it’s really nice when the climb opens up”.  This is absolute bollocks.  It’s really steep and it hurts like hell.  Slowly the hairpins counted down until I got to the last one.  I’d been getting stronger and stronger as time went on and felt good as I got into the town.

I crossed the line at 7hr27 which I didn’t think at any time was remotely possible.  I stopped at the drink station and necked 5 cups of brightly coloured liquid, one after the other.  I spotted AndyC and went to congratulate him.  Legend.  It turned out he’d finished only a minute or so before me!  Simply amazing.

Roundup

What’s great about an event like the Marmotte is everyone has a story.  It’s not possible to have a boring day of it.

I was, well, thrilled and relieved in equal measure.  Thrilled with my time.  Knocking 53 minutes off last years time is ridiculous.  Finishing in under 7hr30 exceeded all expectations. But also relieved.  I’ve made no secret of how seriously I’ve taken cycling this year, made no secret of how hard I have tried to train and that the Marmotte was my main goal of the year.  If the ride had gone badly, as looked so likely early on, it would have been a very public-feeling failure.  Excuses are just that.

AndyC is a legend.  His ‘leave nothing on the road’ philosophy, his ability to push himself hard and his level of fitness are a real motivation for me.  There is a level of friendly competition between us but I was nearly as pleased for him as I was for myself at the end of the ride.  And, one day maybe, if I actually beat him at something, that would be good too .

DaveM struggled in the end after a blinding start.  Well on target for an 8 hour ride after the first climb, cramp came after him in a big way.  Much as it had for me the previous year.  I don’t care what women say about child-birth, cramp is a killer! In the end, and despite the travails, Dave completed the course compromised and emotional in a very credit-worthy time of 8hr36 – inside Gold time and only 16 minutes slower than my effort from last year.

SteveF and CliveH.  I’m sure they won’t me mind saying that they are not as fanatical as the rest of us.  In training it took them 9 hours to complete the Dragon Ride which is a so-so time for a relatively unchallenging course.  I was pretty concerned what sort of state they would be in by the end.  Or maybe if they would finish at all.  I should not have worried!  Such incredible spirit mixed in with some comedy.  Not everyone would have been so blase about being sick during a ride.  Or so desperate to shed weight that they leave their mobile phone with the support car.  Or self-consciously doing up their jersey for the finish line despite being 5 hours down on the leaders.  But, if we are to be judged on the manner, style and spirit of our performance, then they both had fantastic rides.  Chapeau!

Stats and photos to follow!

J’aurais mis “Marmotte”… Parce que, chez Marmotte, qu’est-ce qu’on dort bien

Ah, vous trouvez ça sympa chez Marriott ? No problemo : on discute du montant des droits

In the  words of Alan Partridge’s Geordie friend Michael  – “sometimes it makes you wonder what it’s all aboot”.

15 things you probably knew already

1. The Marmotte is an event for amateur riders in the French Alps
2. It is about 175km long and covers 3 famous ‘hors categorie’ climbs – the hardest categorisation
3. It’s widely considered the hardest one-day amateur ride
4. The course is the same every year
5. It is not the more familiar ‘Etape du Tour’ which is a different stage of the Tour de France also open to amateurs.  The tour route changes each year and so does the Etape
6. The Marmotte is, ignoring weather conditions, a harder ride than the Etape
7. The climbs are the Glandon, Telegraphe, Galibier and Alpe D’Huez
8. The Telegraphe and Galibier combine to form one monster climb
9. The total climb for the ride is about 5,000 metres or 16,500 feet
10. The ride starts in Bourg D’Oisans and finishes at the summit in Alpe D’Huez
11. The ride includes two spectacular descents off the Glandon and Galibier
12. About 7,000 riders start the event each year.  Less finish
13. The Galibier is a monster.  Tour-creator Degranges said of it – “all other climbs are gnat’s piss”
14. It would not be unexpected to consume 8,000 calories during the ride
15. The ride, like many ski runs in the area, is named after the small animals that live on the mountains

The Galibier – no photograph can do it justice!

Climb Stats

Marmotte 2008

My account from the ride last year.

Well, I knew Iain was insane to be doing this, but he rang me before breakfast from the top of Shap Fell to tell me he’d done a Floyd Landis-style breakaway and raced to to the top, arriving a good five minutes before the rest of the team! He knows the road fairly well from having ridden it in training a few times in the last 2-3 years, and of course on the Jogle last year, so he knew when to go, powering down the dips and heading uphill in the biggest gear he could manage. He was going so fast they didn’t even have the camera set up to capture the riders arriving yet, so there is no photographic evidence – shame! So he’s definitely earned his ’second breakfast’ which was waiting for the riders at the top.

Marmotte, here he comes!

Btw, they had no reception at the nunnery last night so there was no blog update or tweets from Iain. Hopefully tonight.

Gah! The creaking noise from the bike was back when climbing Broomfield Hill on the way home, so I think it’s the pedals, I’ll swap over a newer set from another bike and try them out tonight – I don’t want that noise for nearly 900 miles driving me nuts. Everything else was good though, so I’m happy overall.

I managed to fit the castors to the bike box last night so it’s now as easy to move as a wobbly shopping trolley, one less task for my return. Why the makers didn’t think we would want them in the first place I don’t know – It’s a Polaris bike-pod and it’s excellent for taking your bike on aircraft or trains as it provides a lot of protection in transit (and you can pad out the bike with all your other bike kit and cut down on other luggage).

All well and good, only it’s not really designed for the car-less. It’s unwieldy when you try and travel with it on foot – it does have a set of wheels at the back (which don’t work very well, forcing you to carry the box at an odd angle) but it doesn’t have a carrying handle or strap, all of which leads me to conclude it’s designed for you to drive to airports. This is all very much from the “There’s a hole in my bucket” school of project planning, as if I drove in the first place, I would probably drive to my fecking destination, with the bike and therefore need neither aircraft or bikebox. Mumble.

Anyways, a bit of castor fettling, a small quantity of blood and copious swearing later, the bike box was now be-castored and ready to take with me to the Marmotte once TRAT is over.

First thing this morning I had a photoshoot from a freelancer on behalf of the local paper (Kingston Guardian). Only I don’t think anyone had warned her I woud be in armour when I answered the door. The paper had very much liked the swordfighting angle and was interested in the the medieval show that my friend Andy and I do (called Medieval Fight Club) – I’ve been trying to offer this as a corporate team building event/summer party in order to try and raise funds (no takers so far, boo! Get in touch if you’re interested).

So it seemed logical to the paper to ask me to be ready, in armour to be photographed on my bike when the photographer got to my house. Only they forgot to tell her.

It was a very fast photoshoot and she couldn’t get out of the house quick enough. I asked her what was the oddest things she had been asked to photograph, “Dead people” she answered as she practically ran towards her car.

The last minute TRAT preparations continue and I’ve got Friday morning off work to deal with any unexpected problems that might crop up.

After a great effort from Charlotte, TRAT Race Director, we’ve got the full complement of eight riders again – the new additions being Phil, brother of Liz who is already riding (bit of a family affair as their father is going to be our chef for the trip too!) and another bloke called Rauri – welcome on board to both of them. Those extra two riders make a lot of difference in a group, believe me – from my Saturday morning Richmond Park rides I have got used to riding in groups of about 8-12, if people drop off the back it becomes noticeably more work as the group shrinks. Eight is a good number, so I’m both happy and grateful.

My bike is now ready for TRAT, so hopefully so am I. I got it back from the shop and all of the various noises and creaks that I’m too incompetent to identify (or fix) have now gone. This is doubly good, as well as the tune-up reducing wear on the components which weren’t in best order, I won’t be annoying the hell out of everyone else on the ride having to listen to the various rattles, creaks and squeaks coming from my bike (they will still have to put up with annoying noises coming from me though).

Yesterday lunchtime I picked up various castors and fixings in order to sort out my bike box, will hopefully bodge those on ok tonight (this isn’t for TRAT, it’s for the Marmotte but I won’t have much time once I get back to sort those out).

Yesterday evening I got interviewed (over the phone) by the Kingston Guardian, so first thing on Wednesday morning they expect me in armour, on a bicycle for a photocall! I hope I got across the key points in the interview about TRAT and how the funding is used. They also seemed to like the Medieval Fight Club idea and what Andy and I do with it – hopefully it will lead to further interest in our show.

Recent new donations have tipped me over the half way point towards my fundraising total; with money pledged offline the total is now just over the £1,000 mark which is brilliant, thank you very much once again to all concerned.

On Saturday I did my last training ride (on the road at least) in Richmond Park – was a good four laps and I was happy both with my average speed and the fact that I felt reasonably fresh at the end of it.

With a party on Saturday night (and a wobbly tandem ride home) and lots to do yesterday, I decided against the Sunday training ride.

I’m still not sure that the training I have done overall has been the ‘right’ sort of training in that I’ve really picked up my speed on the flat but possibly not done enough distance work (in fact I know I haven’t). Anyway, it’s too late to worry about that now and I shall be taking it reasonably easy for the rest of the week. I might do a last turbo trainer climb on Tuesday but that will be my last actual training ride.

I’m still much heavier than I would like for climbing too but there’s nothing I can do about that anymore – I’m stronger on the bike than I have ever been so I’m going to have to hope that brute force and ignorance will get me through compared to gazelle like climbing grace.

I rode to work today at what I thought was a deliberately gentle pace (I had to stop myself from latching on to the wheels of people overtaking me). Despite that, I still managed a 14.3mph average, which I would probably have had to work for at the start of the year after getting out of condition.

So fitness wise, I’m in very good shape I think. Mentally I’m committed to it to and sure I’ll get through, although I expect the first few days to be a real shock to the system. I think what I’m looking forward to most is getting to the end of day two – for one, I will see some of my family, but mainly because I will hopefully have got through the first two days ok and know that I will be able to continue.

My bike is at the shop having a grown-up give it some care and attention, fortunately the chain and rear cassette didn’t need changing this time and the mechanic has given the bottom bracket some tlc. Hopefully the gears have been smoothed out nicely too.

I pick it up tomorrow morning as I’m on my other bike this evening (need to make a delivery of some maps and leaflets over Ealing way). A broken spoke on this bike that seems to have appeared from nowhere added a few logistical woes to yesterday, especially as they are bladed spokes on a wheel type that I have even less of a clue than normal how to fix.

Fortunately I do have a spare wheelset, so I swapped the rear cassette over (it had an 8 speed on it previously and anyway, for smooth riding and even chain wear I’m told that you should always use the same cassette with the same chain. This is one mechanical task that I can do (it needs specialist tools which I already have) so that wasn’t too difficult. It does remind me that I need to learn to do a whole bunch of other bike maintenance stuff – I can replace a brake cable but I’m hopeless at indexing gears so these are fairly basic tasks that therefore cost me money by having to get someone else to do them.

This week I’ll be packing to make sure I get everything ready before Saturday – I have already found and washed most of the kit I will take with me (except my armwarmers, must look those out). I kind of have to get ready for the Marmotte at the same time, as I will only have two days after I get back from TRAT to prepare for the long journey to Grenoble (which reminds me, I must buy the new castors for the bike box).

So there’s lots of little things to do, not least of which is attend a publicity photoshoot on Friday with John Snow who is patron of the Bishop Simeon Trust as well as his other roles.

At the moment, I’m starting to feel the twitchy, nervy excitement that will build and build until the moment before the off.

Only six days to go now…

When Iain first started training for the Etape back in 2007, he warned me that he wouldn’t be around much. He spent a lot of time on the bike trainer and out on the roads and I spent a lot of time doing stuff without him, cooking dinner to be ready when training was over for the night and encouraging him to try to get a few early nights and eat/drink a bit less. He seemed to appreciate both the support and the permission to get out there and do it without feeling like he was abandoning me.

The payoff for me is that he was so obviously enjoying himself, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the exercise and devising training plans, routes and timings and spending up big on bike kit. I tried to keep his feet on the ground a little with gentle advice about not overdoing it, keeping the credit card expenses down to a dull roar (what is it about men and Wiggle?) and motivating him when the ‘I need a rest day’ card was played too many days in row.

I’m a cyclist and cycling fan anyway, so there were lots of bonuses from Iain being in the Etape du Tour – not least a free team jersey – and going to France for the event was the main one. It was amazing to see that quantity of cyclists together as well as the thousands of people who’d turned out to support them. At the breakfast stop I took my cue from another cycling widow next to me who had a large flag, and held up my sarong printed with enormous sunflowers so that Iain would see where we were standing with his food in enough time to be able to pull over to us across the steady stream of riders. She’d done it all before and we were able to exchange stories and advice, which was good for morale. There was tons of local support on the route as well and it was inspiring to stand by the side of the road in a small village where the band had turned out to play the riders through. It seemed like it was very much a carnival atmosphere for them, to be repeated on a similar scale a week later when the Tour de France itself powered through. Also inspiring to watch the riders at all stages of the race where we spectated, especially on the finish line where many of them chose to sit back, put their hands in the air and spin over the line like their were Tour de France stage winners – not Iain! I had the video camera going from the minute he came into view as I knew he’d be head down, powering for the line, crushing everyone in his wake – and he was. Nothing to do with the fact he can’t ride no-handed, I’m sure. (I taught myself to do it a couple of years ago in Battersea Park, just in case I ever win a bike race.)

Anyway, all this inspiration rubbed off on me, and by Christmas 2007 I was enthused enough about getting a road bike to ask my boss to put a tax free bike scheme in place (www.cyclescheme.co.uk) and bought a Specialized Elite. It’s not quite a case of ‘If you can’t beat him, join him’ but I rode the Etape Caledonia with Iain (well, a couple of hours behind him) in 2008 which felt like a great achievement for me. I didn’t spend hours training but worked on the basis of a nice equation Iain picked up early in his training: you should be able to ride in one long outing at the weekend the same mileage as your total weekday commuting miles. It just meant not catching the bus on rainy days and keeping the miles in my legs building up. I wasn’t going for any sort of time, just a finish without walking up any hills, and I managed that proudly.

Another opportunity for me to explore cycling through Iain’s training was in Spring 2007, when I suggested tying in a possible advance training ride for Iain in ‘proper’ mountains with an activity weekend for me in the Pyrenees. This worked very well and we flew out to Barcelona with the bike box and were driven up into the high mountains for a few nights with Activities Abroad. Simon, the activity provider and Jo, his gourmet cook partner were very welcoming and Iain was able to get out and ride a couple of Cat 1s and an HC (the steepest mountain type in the TdF: Hors Categories, literally ‘too steep to categorise’) I, on the other hand, was driven to a ski station, given a mountain bike, and taught to ride it at speed for 17km downhill. I have never had so much fun on a bike in my life! We discovered several things – firstly that I was more fearless than Iain downhill and secondly that he needed to get his brakes upgraded as soon as he got home. In 2008 I admired Iain’s ‘beautiful madness’ riding the Marmotte in the Alps last summer but had no desire to join him uphill. He did say I would love the Col du Lautaret which is 36km of downhill but I decided I would need someone to drive me up there.

Coming up to last Christmas, Iain’s enthusiasm for training was waning a bit but I heard about a new idea, a spinning studio opening in Putney (www.pedalstudio.co.uk). I decided to join and got stuck in when they opened in January. Under the tutelage of spinning instructors who are also cyclists themselves, I quickly started to feel more energised and positive on the bike, and have been getting quicker and quicker on my commute with weekly sessions (cheers Richard!). New records break every week and I am no longer scared of going uphill (well, not the ones on my commute anyway). I even matched Iain’s time up Kingston Hill the other morning (although he wasn’t there to race against. We need to measure it properly for it to count!). During the early part of this year, Iain hasn’t been as motivated as in previous years, mainly due to illness and injury. I can’t force him to go out and train, when I know he should be on the bike if he wants to reach the targets he was aiming for, and I’ve found that all I can do is be enthusiastic and set a good example in my own riding. We’ve been out for a few rides together, and he even dragged me up Box Hill one day. We’ve also bought a tandem which is immense fun and if I think he needs to train harder, I can just sit back a bit and make him do all the work. He’s had less time to ride it now his training is full on and in earnest for TRAT and the Marmotte but when it’s all over we shall be out and about on it – roll on July and August!

In June, I’ll be willing him on while ‘cut-out Iain’ moves swiftly up the UK map on the wall in our kitchen (he made it for me during his John o’ Groats to Land’s End ride last year so I could mark his progress). In July I’ll be joining him in Bourg d’Oisans to cheer him on in the Marmotte again, and I am planning to ride up Alpe d’Huez while I’m there. I will need to hire a bike but I can’t stay so close to that cycling mecca and not take the opportunity. Again, the only target I have is to reach the top without getting off and walking. The only way I won’t do it is if Iain makes me cycle up the Lauteret – I much prefer the payoff of the 35km downhill to having to come back down the 21 hairpins of the Alpe!

Three years ago it would never have crossed my mind to do anything other than watch the Tour on tv, marvelling as the riders power up Alpe d’Huez at insane speeds. Now I’m actually planning to do it myself and it would not have happened without being part of Iain’s cycling odyssey. It’s a privilege to support him, learn from him, and be inspired by him! Chapeau!

Fantástico el trabajo de esta ilustradora francesa afincada en Paris y que trabaja como freelance principalmente para la industria de videojuegos en el departamento artístico.  Sus ilustraciones y bocetos guardan una inusual belleza que la hacen única.

Il y a quelques temps j’illustrai un de mes billets d’une magnifique marmotte tirant au bazooka. Ironiquement, j’appliquai cette légende: la marmotte un animal si gentil. Comme souvent, cela m’était sorti de la tête jusqu’à peu. Google s’est rappelé à moi.

Les statistiques m’ont annoncé une consultation fréquente de cet article ancien dont la pertinence reste intacte, sans que cela puisse expliquer une soudaine affluence de lecteurs. Un examen plus poussé, me prouva la corrélation existant entre les consultations de cet article, les visites en provenance de google images et le mot clé de recherche marmotte. Un petit essai me prouva que dans tous les pays francophones, la recherche d’image avec le mot clé marmotte me met en tête des résultats.

Cela me semble toutefois attenter à ma modestie naturelle, d’autant plus que j’ai toujours négligé l’étude de la zoologie (j’ai fait un peu de biologie dans le supérieur, certes mais rien à voir avec ce charmant animal). Je le confirme donc ici à eux qui prendront la peine de lire en plus de regarder les images, je n’ai aucun magistère en matière de marmottes.

Cet aventure m’éclaire quelque peu sur le fonctionnement des moteurs de recherche. Le principe moutonnier y est en vigueur avec une efficacité remarquable. Panurge reste un archétype qui voue un culte à l’<<intelligence>> des moteurs de recherche.

Ce qui me surprend est qu’aucun des quidam surpris ou interloqués ne m’est laissé de messages d’insulte. J’en déduis, grâce à google, que les amis des marmottes sont plus aimables que ceux des Palestiniens qui n’avaient pas hésité à me traiter de dangereux fasciste sans-coeur, hostile et fanatique.

Et puis, ce que je regrette est de devoir me censurer pour prévenir de futurs incidents avec des amis des petites bêtes moins pacifiques. Je ne pourrais pas mettre de belle image pour évoquer la ptite fille que j’ai entendue hier dans le tram dire à sa mère d’une voix argentine: << Maman, dis! tu te rappelles quand il y avait un rat de l’armoire de Tata Laurence!>>

Un quelconque sans coeur à la recherche d’une citation de Malaparte avec les mots rats, enfants et Varsovie pourrait arriver ici et la confrontation de son cerveau affaibli (un lecteur de Malaparte a forcément le cerveau faible du côté droit) à mes élucubrations pourrait induire un choc terrible de fascistination.

Alors, c’est dommage. A cause de Google, je ne pourrais jamais évoquer le lac Ladoga gelé et le cheval, cet animal sublime en sculpture, ni les plaines de l’Ukraine et leurs chiens valeureux  et fidèles qui se jettent sous les chars pour casser un morceau. Google a rendu certains de mes projets de billet Kaputt, c’est une honte.

En fait, l’évocation des animaux  devrait être interdit aux bloggueurs par le gouvernement. Cela leur interdirait toute tentation de se répandre en propos nauséabonds et d’évoquer un intellectuel dangereux qui est passé du fascisme au communisme sans s’arrêter par la case bien-pensance.

Faut vraiment pas aimer cet animal là pour l’appeller Punxsutawney Phil…

15 septembre 2008 – Valsavarenche et le Nivolet

Nous sommes à présent seuls dans la chambre d’hôtes, et ce matin c’est la rentrée scolaire en Italie. La logeuse a accompagné sa fillette a l’école, et c’est donc en compagnie de sa Mamma (qui habite le premier étage de la maison) que nous prenons le petit déjeuner. Elle ne parle quasi pas français et notre italien est encore pire, mais elle aime trop bavarder pour se laisser arrêter par de tels obstacles. C’est un sacré personnage et, tout de suite, les petits déjeuners prennent une ambiance plus colorée !

Comme la veille, le petit déjeuner n’a rien de “fait maison” : pain de mie industriel, mini-confitures industrielles, biscuits industriels, viennoiseries industrielles… tout est sous plastique, rien n’a de goût. On n’a même plus, comme la veille, quelques morceaux de vieux -mais vrai- pain grillé Heureusement la Mamma sauve l’affaire ! Après avoir jeté l’anathème sur nos mini-confiottes, elle nous sort du frigo son onctueuse confiture maison d’abricots (faite avec très peu de sucre car elle est diabétique). Mais chut, il ne faut rien dire à sa fille

Nous partons pour Valsavarenche dans l’intention d’aller voir les lacs du Nivolet. Une journée “cool”… enfin normalement. La route nous semble très longue, il faut dire que cette vallée est particulièrement allongée.

Il est passé 8h30 quand nous arrivons à Pont (alt. 1953m), un peu perplexes : la route que nous espérions prendre est fermée à la circulation automobile. Plus loin, la route est ouverte, c’est juste cette portion-ci qui coince. Pour atteindre le col du Nivolet en voiture depuis Aymaville, il nous faudrait faire un détour colossal (160km au lieu de 40km).

Moment de discussion. Bilan : on est quand même là pour randonner, pas pour rouler ! Il est encore suffisamment tôt pour espérer faire l’aller-retour pendant les heures de jour. On ne verra sans doute pas tous les lacs, mais bon… Allez, en route ! Un bon 600m de dénivelée nous attend, et pas mal de kilomètres aussi.

On s’apprête à traverser la rivière sur le large pont que tous les randonneurs empruntent, quand on se rend compte que pour nous, ce n’est pas par là. C’est le tout petit sentier qui part derrière l’auberge. Tant mieux, ici il n’y a personne ! Ca monte bien, mais c’est pas désagréable. Des panneaux nous annoncent les règles à respecter dans le parc du Grand Paradis (Parco Nazionale Gran Paradiso).

Une bonne heure plus tard, on atteint une sorte de petit plateau sur lequel on croise un troupeau de vaches en sens opposé. J’aimerais bien voir comment elles vont négocier ça (la première partie de la descente, ce sont des blocs de roches) mais elles doivent avoir l’habitude. On attend sagement qu’elles défilent en écoutant leur incroyable orchestre de cloches…

Les paysages sont splendides, le beau temps est de la partie… ça nous donnerait presque envie de s’asseoir, rester là toute la journée rien que pour admirer l’oeuvre de la nature. Mais en dépit du ciel bleu, il ne fait chaud que tant que l’on est en mouvement ! Il reste encore un peu de neige à cette altitude.

Après un petit col, nous voilà à devoir traverser une grande cuvette un brin marécageuse.

Juste au moment où nous avons une hésitation sur le sentier à suivre, un vacher passe par là et nous confirme la bonne voie. C’est une chance. A partir de maintenant nous ne verrons plus un humain jusqu’à destination.

Durant 2h nous parcourrons le fond d’une longue vallée suspendue. C’est plat, morne et monotone, cela semble ne jamais devoir finir. La “dora del Nivolè” se divise en de multiples petites rivières qui serpentent dans ce vallon, le rendant assez humide. Souvent notre chemin était envahi par l’eau.

Nous pique-niquons sur des rochers : pain, tomates et fontina, comme souvent. Il y a du soleil mais le vent me glace les os. Nous repartons assez rapidement pour nous réchauffer en marchant.

Soudain, quelques bâtiments rompent la monotonie. Des cris aigus nous apprennent que nous sommes repérés. Mais nous avons tout de même la permission de les admirer de loin. Enfin !
Jeu : cherchez la marmotte dans les deux photos ci-dessous

Nous laissons le village des marmottes derrière nous et parvenons à un pont de bois. Un second est visible un peu plus loin. La civilisation se rapprocherait-elle ?

Nous arrivons à un 2ème village abandonné, composé de bien plus de bâtiments que le précédent, mais inaccessible à cause de la rivière.

Le chemin s’élargit et nous rencontrons d’autres animaux (non je ne parle pas d’AàG )

Un troupeau de moutons blancs et noirs paisse paisiblement… certains ont des cloches à leur cou, j’ai l’impression (fausse ??) que ça doit être fort lourd pour eux.

Ils essaient de paraître indifférents mais notre présence les inquiète tout de même un peu, surtout dans les parages des jeunes.

Un 4×4 se gare dans le chemin au-dessus (la fameuse route fermée) et un type en sort avec ses chiens. Cela nous énerve étonne qu’ils n’aient pas de laisse, nous sommes toujours dans le parc national. Bon allez, au revoir les moutons.

Le chemin s’élargit encore et rejoint les pylônes et la route du col. En face de nous, une belle pente propice aux marmottes. Et en effet, ça siffle de partout à notre arrivée !

Alors je me suis lancée dans les pentes enneigées pour vous présenter Renato et Géraldine :

Seule Géraldine a bien voulu, avec beaucoup de patience, que je l’approche davantage :

Il semble que le printemps, à la sortie de l’hibernation, soit beaucoup plus propice à l’approche des marmottes. A l’automne, elles font leurs provisions de fourrage et sont plus farouches.

Voici le panorama qui s’ouvre soudain devant nous…

Ca et la neige qui craque sous nos chaussures, il n’en faut pas beaucoup plus pour nous transformer en gamins !

Après avoir été voir les lacs du Nivolet (laghi del Nivolet) nous allons prendre le traditionnel chocolat chaud au refuge de Savoie. Il nous a paru bien moins accueillant que les autres refuges, est-ce dû à la proximité de la route ?

Nous nous penchons sur la carte pour examiner l’accès aux autres lacs. Nous hésitons beaucoup mais étant donné l’heure qu’il est et le long chemin de retour qui nous attend, il est malheureusement plus raisonnable de repartir sans aller jusque là. C’est l’inconvénient du mois de septembre, l’obscurité tombe vite et en montagne c’est encore pis…

Comme d’habitude, nous essayons de ne pas reprendre exactement le même chemin au retour qu’à l’aller. Nous allons emprunter la “route” fermée afin de rester en hauteur et sur l’autre flanc.

Ce papillon-là devait avoir bien froid… Un peu plus loin, une drôle de rencontre nous attendait. Il a déboulé en face de nous, sans nous voir. On devait être contre le vent. J’ai cru au départ que c’était un des chiens entraperçus plus tôt. Il s’est arrêté en nous voyant, comme s’il nous jaugeait du regard, puis a dirigé toute son attention vers le fond de la vallée. Il est resté encore quelques instants, nous jetant un oeil de temps à autre, pas très inquiet… puis s’est mis à trottiner sur la pente, vers le fond de la vallée suspendue.

Peut-être était-ce ça qui l’intéressait ?

Nous sommes descendus à notre tour, un peu plus loin, à un endroit d’où un sentier partait. Nous avons été jusqu’au village abandonné remarqué à l’aller, nous l’avons visité. Ensuite nous avons essayé de traverser la rivière pour reprendre le sentier. J’ai trouvé un ancien gué mais il n’était plus praticable, AàG était déjà plus loin en train de suivre la rivière.

Nous nous étions dit qu’au pire, on suivrait l’eau jusqu’aux deux ponts de bois. Malheureusement il y a tellement de bras de rivières dans ce vallon… On a marché un bout de temps dans ces prairies humides et pleines de bosses, on n’a jamais trouvé d’endroit franchissable à sec.

A un endroit moins pire que les autres, AàG a sauté dans l’eau puis sur la berge. Mes chaussures prenant l’eau de toute part (comme je venais de le tester plus tôt dans la journée avec la neige), j’ai préféré les enlever et passer pieds nus. L’eau était glaciale et les cailloux aïe ouille… le temps de traverser, je ne sentais plus mes pieds. Oui il y a des photos et non vous ne les verrez pas :-p

L’impressionnante arrivée des nuages du soir :

Après cet épisode hautement aglaglaïsant, nous avons poursuivi notre marche et fini par retrouver la cuvette marécageuse. Derrière celle-ci, ma zone préférée, le petit plateau perdu au milieu de nulle part… là encore, une surprise nous attendait. Deux surprises, plus exactement, mais nous n’en avons photographié qu’une !

Les chamois suivent le rythme de la lumière, ils montent et descendent avec le soleil.

Il nous reste la dernière ligne droite, la grande descente. Tout du long, on remarquera des traces de sang sur les rochers, à intervalles réguliers. Probablement une vache blessée…

Il est fort tard lorsque nous revenons à la voiture. Le temps de rejoindre Villeneuve et de trouver un restaurant ouvert, il est déjà 21h. A cette heure-ci, la cuisine est fermée (comprendre : on ne fait que des pizzas). C’est une toute petite salle comprenant plus de locaux que de touristes, et d’autres arriveront encore bien après nous. C’était particulièrement bon marché mais le service aura été particulièrement peu aimable aussi !

Quand nous rentrons au logement, crevés, les petits chats glissent entre nos pieds et se faufilent dans l’escalier… L’un est parti vers la cave, l’autre vers les étages, et nous voilà à essayer de les rattraper à tâtons sans réveiller toute la maisonnée. Ils auront leur poignée de croquettes à défaut de la chaleur de la maison, puisque celle-ci leur est interdite…

I’m not  a great beliver in new years resolutions. However goal setting is a useful thing, and January 1st seems as good a time as any to set them. Last year it was

Weeee!

 all about cycling in and completing the Marmotte cyclosportive event in the French Alps – http://www.sportcommunication.com/GT/epreuve2.php?langue=2&trophee=128 This entailed a lot of training and a lot of preparation events in the UK. In the end I rode the following events as preparation:

White Horse Challenge

Fred Whitton

Hampshire Hilly Hundred

Chiltern 100

Highclere 200k

Circuit of the Cotswolds

Funnily enough I got slower as we completed these events. The White Horse and Fred Whitton were outstanding successes. I felt good and rode well in the Hampshire Hilly and Chiltern 100 but didn’t push it, in retrospect these were lost opportunities as I was going well at the time. At Highclere I rode well in the first 75% of the route but cracked badly in the final 15 miles. This was another lost opportunity as it was a long event and I could have made it a bit harder and practised feeding and drinking in heat and when tired. I set a PB in the Cotswold event but didn’t get up the major climb in one go. Felt it should have been faster as a confidence boost for the Marmotte and again to test eating and drinking under pressure. On the plus side, it was windy and the headwind early on was ferocious.

In retrospect I acheieved a lot and generally rode well. But. With the exception of two events I didn’t really push enough to get enough inforation about my fitness and specifically about eating and drinking when on the limit, especially in hot weather.  Of course this is a bit harsh. I improved on previous years immeasurably especially with climbing. I was found out a bit in the Alps but on UK climbs I definately improved massively.

The Marmotte was very hard. It took me 11hrs 47minutes. Things started badly when I needed an emergency poo stop in the first 10k and didn’t have access to toilet paper. Cycling buddy Paul stayed with me. I bet he wished he hadn’t as we lost the 1,000 people we started with and ended up cycling alone for a bit. The first climb of the Glandon was long and hard. I had hoped to avoid absolute granny gear until later in the day but on the first climb I was in my 2nd smallest gear of 30×23 all the way up. My two cycling buddies dropped me on this climb. It was a bunfight over the top, I queued to get a bidon topped up and then got underway.

I was dreading the descents, particularly this one as it is technical and fast. I managed the trickiest bit at the top without puncturing through using the brakes and then got into a rythmn following wheels to the bottom. At the bottom it’s a long, hot, flat run in to the 2nd climb of the day – the Telegraphe. On this run in it is essential to get in a group and stay there, conserving energy. I made the same mistake I’d made in the Fred Whitton on a similar stretch on the A66 to Keswick and found it hard to get in a group and when I did either it was too slow or too fast. I found myself going at the pace I’d like sitting 2nd wheel in a group of about 40 for a while, and as nobody else was taking a turn on the front I moved up to help the bloke on the front out. And then I was on the front with nobody doing a turn, wearing myself  out. So I sat up. We were caught by a faster, better organised group, so I jumped on to them. They dropped me after a mile or two of struggle. Back on my own, waiting for a group. One comes along and we repeat the process of effort, sitting up, effort, getting dropped, effort……

With the benefit of hindsight I should’ve stopped at the bottom of the Telegraphe drank water, topped up bidons, had something to eat, took a breather. But I didn’t want to stop and have to get going again. I started climbing and found myself among a bunch of Irish lads. Had a quick chat. Started off okay but soon started to struggle as my stomach started playing up and I was reduced to playing mind games with myself for the next 12km in order to get to the top. At the top I queued for water, had a wee, ate a gel, took a drink and walker about for 10 minutes to see if I could find Dave or Paul. I couldn’t see them and hadn’t seen them since they dropped me on the Glandon so assumed they were ahead on the road.

Got going again, legs felt like lead. Short descent off the Telegraphe and all too soon shooting through Valloire. I didn’t stop for food here either, I  might have done but couldn’t tell official stops from the bloody Belgian and Dutch tour or club stops so kept going. The bottom of the Galibier (mountain number 3) isn’t that steep but it drags on and it was hot and my legs were not feeling good. I decided to kid myself into getting as far as the cafe at Plan Lachet (roughly halfway up, but the easy half). I got there feeling knackered and bought a coke and had a sit down. Importantly I was able to take off my shoes. Of all my errors in the Marmotte this was a nagging big one. I’d used new shoes. Wrong choice. They were killing my feet, absolutely killing them. It was heaven to take them off. I’d been there for maybe 15 minutes when I spotted Paul going by. I gave a wave and a shout and Paul pulled over for a coke too. We sat for another 15 mintes or so before setting off again. I was suprised to see Paul as I had convinced myself that he was ahead after dropping me 5 hours earlier. I was relieved to see him, it gave me a boost to know that I had a friend with me for the hard part of the Galibier.

We set off at a good pace, catching people all the time. After a bit I realised I was in a bigger gear than I thought sensible (30×21) so made the necessary alterations. In doing so my speed slowed and Paul dropped me for the 2nd time of the day. He kept on riding away from me, but I kept calm and settled in at a pace I though I could sustain for then next 8km of 10% gradient. Good plan. I kept catching people (although more than a few passed me), and saw a lot of people stopped or collapsed at the side of the road. Toward the top supporters started appearing and I got a good cheer on from some Brits who recognised my Bicester club top. I kept pushing, but eventually I had my usual falling-off-on-a-hill-climb moment. I was attempting to pass a bloke when he veered toward me. I backed off and went the other way and he veered that way too, so I changed direction but so did he. We touched wheels and I went down. A woman who was pushing her bike picked up a bidon that had come out in the collision and was rolling off down the mountain. I got back on and did the final steep section in a sprint – possessed with rage at being knocked off. I seemed to have a lot of energy left that I hadn’t suspected.

Over the top I stopped to put my jacket on for the descent (Galibier is very high at 2600m and therefore cold). While doing this I spotted Paul a bit further down the road doing the same. I had a quick drink and I think a gel (but not enoug of either) and set off after him. I descended like a demon and caught Paul and a group of others at the junction of the Galibier/Lauteret.

I had just made one mistake in not eating or drinking enough at the top of the Galibier. I now compounded this on the way down by failing to eat or drink anything else. Trouble is, it is very difficult to do so when hurtling down a mountain. I need to work that out before doing the Marmotte again. This descent is about 75 minutes during which time my legs were seizing up and I was getting tired and hungry (without knowing it). Toward the bottom there is a short climb and a bit of flat to negotiate. I got dropped here and it felt like running in treacle trying to keep going. I plodded on alone and stopped to take my jacket off as it was now quite hot. Remounted and around a couple of bends there was Paul doing the same. I slowed to speak and said I’d soft pedal but didn’t want to stop as my legs were seizing up. I pootled. I coasted. I didn’t get into groups. I cycled on my own a lot. No Paul. There is a flat section at the bottom of the Lauteret that runs to the bottom of Alpe D’huez. It is important to get in a group and save energy. I did’t. Again. No Paul.

I scooted past the feed zone at the bottom of the Alpe, but stopped a little further on and waited for Paul. No Paul. After maybe 10 minutes I began to think he must have got in a group and passed me on the flat run in not noticing me in the hurly-burly of the group. In fact he’d not caught me and had stopped in the feed zone for longer than I had waited just beyond it. Again, I should have stopped in the feed zone and taken 10 or 15 minutes to refuel and get ready for the immense challenge to come. Eventually I set off. It felt hard. Some people passed me. I lost my temper with my bidons full of energy gloop that I hadn’t been able to stomach for several hours and flung them into the bushes at the side of the road. I’m not happy about that as the scale of littering on the route was awful and I’d been bemoaning that fact, but when you are tired….. At first I was still finding it hard. I checked my gear. Doh, I was still in 39xsomething rather than 30xsomething! Quick change down to my smallest gear 30×25.

Now I was rocking. I felt good and although people were passing me, I was passing a lot of others including many walkers and some lying down. I was focussed and going well. Several hairpins came and went. Still feeling strong. I had a few wheels to follow of people that were going okay, so stuck to them like glue. Still feeling good. A couple more hairpins came and went. Now, things started to change. I felt a bit hot. I felt a bit tired. Re-focus, lock in on that wheel in front. Another hairpin. Oooh my legs were starting to feel heavy. A hairpin coming in the distance. My mind starts to wander and for the first time I’m not in full control of it. That hairpin is a long time coming. How about stopping in the shade for a minute? I do a deal with my slightly addled mind – I’ll stop in the shade provided I can do it at a point that doesn’t mean I have to unclip. I find a spot almost immediately.

I stop. I drink a bit. I start off again. My mind instantly questions my ability to make another hairpin. I fight back, but my mind intervenes with some more ‘lets’ stop in the shade’ marketing. I stop in the shade. For the first time today I climb off the bike on a climb. I sit down. I suddenly feel very tired and not very well. I lie down. I try to drink. An Italian bloke asks if I’m okay. I say yes. I mean no. I lie for maybe 15 minutes and then summon my energies and get going again. Almost straightaway the effort is too much and my mind starts telling me to stop again. I do a deal with myself. I’ll stop again after the next hairpin. I manage the hairpin and then I stop halfway to the next one. Shoes off this time as my feet are really driving me mad and the thought of putting them back on is almost more than I can bear. More time passes. Lots of it. And then I spot Paul coming up the road. He looks tired but he’s still pushing the pedals around and I think he’ll make it. I give him a cheer, a clap and some encouragement. Inspired, I get my shoes on, faff for a few minutes and steel myself for another go at riding uphill.

I stop after about 5 minutes. I’m desperate now. I stop at every hairpin and often the points in between. I stop off at a waterfall at the roadside and fill my bidons and then dunk myself under it for 10 seconds. I feel a bit better, drink most of one of the two bidons I have left and have just filled. I set off and am soon stopping at the next hairpin. I’m in good company as an assortment of northern european tall and big blokes stand about with thousand yard stares in various states of exhaustion. One or two set off. I set off after a tall blonde bloke who looks worse than I feel. He drops me.

I stagger up the mountain, trying to fool myself into carrying on. I look up the mountain – it’s tortuously steep and impossibly difficult to comprehend how I can make it as I see the lines of riders above me into the distance – and seeing the people coming downhill I perk up. If I can make it to the downhill bit ahead I’ll be okay. I concentrate hard. Then it dawns on me that the downhill riders are the finishers coming down the mountain. If the mountain I’m cycling up exists under normal laws of physics then this would be considered normal. In my fevered brain the line between sense and nonsense is almost indistinguishable. Downhearted at the no downhill section revelation I stop. Again. And again. And again. I cycle past people offering me water. I releaise my mistake and stop at a refreshment stop for water and possibly orange squash, if that is what it is. I rest a while and drink some more. I get myself into a position whereby I’m on the bike and clipped in while leaning against a Biffa bin ready to go again. I’m feeling a little better and the gradient has possibly eased up a bit. I set off. I follow the wheel of a struggling Italian rider. Two English riders go past chatting away. Two foreign riders go past one knackered, the other pushing him up while talking away. I’m still glued to the other Italian. Eventually he cracks and I grind on. I make it quite a long way without stopping now and I’m closing in on the photographers hairpin. I determine to put everything on the line in order to cycle past them. I do so, but at a cost. The photo is revealing – my eyes give it away, they are bloodshot, agonised and staring into the middle distance. I stop again. Bloke starts chatting to me about Bicester Millenium but I’m too tired to respond. He probably things I’m grumpy. I’m not I’m just shattered. I get going again, determined to stay on the bike to the finish now. I stop. I push my bike and clip, clop my way to the start of the resort and remount shame facedly. I really am determined to stay on for the last kilometre.

Going through the tunnel just after the tourist finish line for the Alpe D’huez climb I have to dodge a bloke who decided to change gear and got it wrong and is trying madly to stop himself from falling off. I keep plodding on, past a showered, changed, fed and drinking beer group of finishers who find it both amusing and worrying seeing me in my agonies. Finally the finish looms. I can’t put in a sprint finish, it’s too humiliating. I cross the line and give my wedding ring a kiss – thinking of Jo and Sproglett has got me over that line. And then ‘boom!’ Baz – who I’d last seen at the start upset at not being able to face starting the event – appears with beer and snacks! I’m not feeling good but after maybe 20 minutes start to recover some humour. Back to hotel and see myself in mirrored lift, I promise myself not to forget how I looked and how hard it had been. I was as drained as I’ve ever been by some margin. Pale skinned, bloodshot eyed.

A shower and later some food. I perk up. Dave finished and did so about 40 minutes faster than me. Paul, who I’d last seen going past me on one of my stops had packed in 4km from the finish through exhaustion and had been driven to the top by concerned onlookers. My 11.47 included 2.15-ish for Alpe D’huez. I’d banked on 1.5 hours or thereabouts.

Lessons.

Sustained climbing for hour after hour requires greater functional power than I possesed on this attempt. I had improved my climbing on UK climbs significantly, but not my ability to hold threshold for long enough for the Alps. Next time I’ll work specifically on threshold power and use 2×20 to 4×20 for improving this/testing it.

Do less UK events in preparation, but make the ones I do more representative of the Marmotte by going for a time target and challenging myself a little more.

Practice feed/drink strategy in UK events by riding harder.

Train more consistently especially turbo sessions focussing on threshold power and doing tempo rides at weekends. Perhaps upto 80 miles in length at longest but harder.

Lose some weight so I’ve got less to haul up mountains and will therefore be able to use less power for same speed.

Take a wider variety of food on rides with me – especially savoury to break up the monotony and difficulty of eating sugary foods all day.

Don’t wear new shoes on big events ever again.

Simply by not struggling up the Alpe I’d have finished in just over 11 hours. Perhaps with better threshold power, a bit less weight and a better feed strategy I could knock off another 30 minutes. 10.30 in 2010? Maybe.

So after all that. What ARE this years goals? Simply to ride consistently, use the turbo trainer all year to improve threshold power and do some extra core strengthening.

We will see.