Getting to know the ‘géant de Provence’
March 8, 2008:

We’ve all made it to Paris-Nice healthy, fit and ready to race. Nigh a miracle considering the time of year and the rough weather and illness that was going around California. Not to mention the usual shenanigans between ASO and UCI. I don’t even see there being much point in me commenting on that. I mean what is there to say which isn’t obvious and hasn’t already been said? It’s bollocks is what it is.

The whole team got here Friday. It’s given us a chance to settle in and rest up rather than chasing planes and trains. Of course when I say settle in I mean try and physically fit myself and Christian and our bags into a mouse-size room. At first, we stood around in absolute amazement that a hotel room so small could possibly exist. Then we came up with a new furniture arrangement that made it possible for us to simply open our cases while in the room at the same time (we don’t ask for much).

I needed the rest when I got here as I’d spent the day before on a recon trip in Provence to do some research of the legendary Mont Ventoux. We have a stage finish at Mont Serein, which is three quarters of the way up on the north side of the Ventoux. Normally, races go all the way to the top of the south side which most bike fans are familiar with because of the lunar landscape, Tommy Simpson Memorial and legendary Tour de France battles that have taken place on that side.

The north side is not quite as well known. I’ve only raced up there once and that was in the 2001 Dauphine. I climbed well that day, crossing the top with Christophe Moreau (who went on to win the race overall) and then doing the fastest, most crazy descent of my life to catch up to the climbers. I decided that this was not a week to be relying on such rose-tinted memories and that I had better climb it again and remove any complacency that may have existed. And there’s the fact everybody says the north side is easier than the south, something I wanted to confirm for myself.

Nicole, Zorro and I hit the road on Thursday late afternoon and had a turbulent drive from Girona to Malaucène (the village at the very foot of the north side and from now on to be referred to as base camp). It was turbulent because the Mistral was blowing strong. It was so strong in fact that when I perused L’Equipe on Friday, I saw that the windsurfing world speed record was broken! Some mad man near Marseille got up to 90 km/hr. I dunno man, that seems like crazy talk to me. Anyway, the wind was stupid strong.

By a freakish twist of fate, the Gutowskys who work at Slipstream and have become friends these few last months, have a house at base camp, making the whole recon plan all the more feasible. So Thursday lunch time I set off from base camp with illusions of doing a two-hour loop then climbing the ‘géant’ twice, first time easy, second time hard. Oh how foolish I was! The first time up, I realised it wasn’t possible to reach the top easily. But fortunately Goot was there so when I reached the top frozen and semi-demoralized, he could pile me into the car and return me to base camp.

I wasn’t happy. So after showering, eating and snoozing I decided I was going to have to give it another go. I stumbled out of the bedroom at 4:30 pm declaring this to the rest of the recon party. I suppose this is where the newly crowned windsurfing world speed record holder would call my actions crazy talk. I still felt average and the wind was blowing and the temperature dropping, but I was determined to conquer the beast. I set off at 5 pm with instructions to Nicole and Kathy to meet me at the top at 6 pm–and to bring Zorro, he’d like the snow.

Twenty minutes later I realized what a stupid man I was. But my stupidity did not exceed my stubbornness and so onwards and upwards I plodded. Any ideas of going race pace up there by this point were laying on the pillow at base camp where they should have stayed. Anyway, I was no longer doing this just for myself. Zorro would love the snow and Nicole must see the view. So to make a slow story fast, everybody got to the top, and I now know the north side of Mont Ventoux intimately. The rose tinted glasses have fallen off and are laying smashed somewhere in Malaucène.

Today is the prologue of Paris-Nice, my principal objective for the start of this year. I feel good, relaxed and strong. Our team is giving off an aura of relaxed strength as well. All is well for now.