Dit zijn de afstanden die er per dag gefietst zijn. Dag 4 was de rustdag.Dag 5 en 6 waren de dagen dat we rond hebben gereden in de Veluwe zonder bagage.
Day 11 : Equipment breakdown part II
Col de Peyresourde, Port de Bales
We started the day by climbing the Peyresourde. Today there were four large mountains on the program, so we tried to go slow. When we were almost at the top, I saw the German guy we met on the Aubisque and the Tourmalet. I said 'gutentag', he replied 'ah der junges aus Holland'. We cycled with him for a while. He said we would get some lubricant from him at the top. My chain made some noise and Bram's was so loud you could hear him coming from 20 meters away. The climb wasn't very tough. On top, the other German was waiting. I didn't recognize him at first because he had taken his shirt off. The other guy arrived shortly after and helped us lubricate our chains. We took a picture of them with their camera and then some of ourselves.
At the mile mark of the Peyresourde
After a descent with lots of rocks and gravel we reached a village where we bought lunch. The next mountain would be the Port de Balès. It started within 10 kilometers of the summit of the Peyresourde. It was quite steep at the start and then gradually went up for a long while.
View from a relatively level section of the climb
Bram almost stood on yet another snake hidden in the grass.
It was warm today. In the last village before the summit we wanted to buy some food and drinks. Near a hotel we found a tree to sit under. As soon as we got there, I heard a loud bang. My rear tire had blown. First a deep breath and then think. I took the bags off my bike so we could assess the damage. The outer tire was torn along the edge for about 5 cm. The inner tire had a hole so big it was impossible to repair. We didn't carry many spare parts, just a spare inner tire and a puncture repair kit. We put the front wheel's inner and outer tires on the rear, the spare inner tire, and the lacerated outer tire on the front wheel. We then cut a 10 cm rectangle out of the broken inner tire and wrapped that around the new inner tire, hoping it would stop it from bulging out. I also loosened my front brakes to ensure those wouldn't rupture the tire if it popped out. Pumping the tires didn't go well; Bram's pump only reached about 3 bar. That would be sufficient for regular tires, but for my thin racing tires, it was barely enough not to ruin my rims.
We continued after a quick meal. Cycling was now twice as hard as before. We still needed to finish the Port de Balès and the following part was the steepest. On top, we quickly took some pictures and continued cycling in search of a bicycle repair shop.
Port de Balès
There was a good amount of gravel on the road during the descent.
Going down with two soft tires was even less fun than climbing. The inner tire was already protruding through the hole, so I couldn't really use my front brake. I continuously braked at my rear wheel, which made it difficult to steer. After a while, I thought it might be wise to check the temperature of my rear rims. That was a good idea; it was so warm I could barely through it. We waited until it had cooled down and then continued. I also put on my jacket to use it as a parachute to slow me down.
Nearly at the bottom of the descent was a turn in the road covered with molten asphalt. I couldn't brake properly and the outside of the bend was covered with small stones. I barely avoided crashing when a car came from the opposite direction.
In the next village we went searching for a new tire. Of course there was no bike shop. In the supermarket we asked where the nearest one was. It was 30 kilometers away, along a big road. The 100 cols tour ran in the same direction for the first few kilometers, so we followed it until reaching the big road. We asked for directions again and someone told us there was a bike store 15 kilometers away, but in the other direction. Both weren't in the direction we needed to go, but at least this one was closer by. Meanwhile it was already 17:30, so we needed to make a plan quickly.
We could stay at a campsite 5 kilometers away and then take a bus to the store in the morning, or we could continue our intended route and hope to find a bike store along the way. That didn't seem a good plan as the next 150 km would only pass through small villages. The third option was to cycle to the bike store right now. As it was 17:30, we needed to average 30 km/h to get there before 18:00, which was likely when the store closed. If we wouldn't make it there in time, we would risk having to camp by the side of the road or cycle 20 km to a nearby campsite and then take the bus tomorrow.
The riskiest option, but also the one which would allow us to resume our route as fast as possible, was to race to the store as quickly as possible and hope there would be a campsite if things didn't work out. We cycled as fast as we could because we needed to ride 30 km/h for 15 km with luggage and only a partly inflated tire. Fortunately, cycling went well, and the road seemed to go downhill. According to the map, there was a 4% incline, but we didn't notice it after all the mountains. We alternated cycling in pole position and started to believe we could make it. One minute before six we arrived at the bike shop.
Completely covered in sweat and out of breath, we walked in. It was a huge mess. The counter was covered with a big pile of bike parts , and the workshop looked like it had been snowing nuts and bolts all day. Everywhere were piles of metal piled so high it barely didn't fall off the tables. I bought a new outer and inner tire, a pump, and new cleats for my shoes. I also bought screws to tighten them, but they later turned out to be too long. A bit down the road was another bike shop, this time a normal one. There I bought a spare outer tire and a tool to tighten my spokes because one kept getting loose. In front of the first store, I replaced my front tire; the new one had no tread. The way back, over the same road, seemed to go downhill again. We probably got so accustomed to climbing that a flat road felt like going downhill.
In the next village along the route was the campsite. First, we were nearly blown off our bikes because of the cold air coming out of a cave. The local store was about to close, but we could still buy something quickly. We got two bottles of beer and some other things. The campsite only had half a free spot, which was enough for us. We drank the beer on a bench near the jeu des boules field. The only place where French people seem to live is on a jeu des boules field or at the bakery. Apart from those places, you hardly see them anywhere. There are also no people working anywhere. In small villages, you hardly see anyone. As usual the beer had a good effect on me, after a hard day of cycling. I reminded Bram that he had forgotten to tell his story about the highest mountain in the Pyrenees on the Tourmalet, but it's probably better if I don't write that story here.
Distance cycled : 110 km.