Day 1

Team Bike 2009 (1 of 382) Pyrenees
Originally uploaded by M.J.S.

I doubt I will remember this aright.

We start early, and immediately I see that this won't necessarily be the usual type of group riding. Unlike the Dunwich Dynamo, where I got sucked along by an impromptu train of Fireflies and some pretty fit fixed gear types, or small training rides that were often more social than in a group, Team Bike's method seemed to be honed over long experience and allowed all sorts of styles of riding at once - a steady bus at the back, plenty of jostling at the front, and a lot of moving around, with people taking turns when they felt like it. Good stuff. But fast.

I stopped to take a couple of pictures; the mist was hanging low, the sun cutting across the valleys, and sheep, cows and birds of prey seemed to have more residence there than us. It was a Sunday, and as we rode through pretty villages and small towns people shouted 'bonjour' as they walked or leaned out of windows. Beautiful riding, with gentle rolls, and then up and through a valley very much like the Yorkshire Dales.

The first climb hit. Haltza (782m) I took it a bit too fast, even though I knew I shouldn't; and spent some time working out how to use my gears for the best. I was riding a compact, with a 29 at the back. This may have been a mistake, being used to a 25 back there, and it was too tempting to settle into a slow speed, without even spinning much. I made it up with a few behind me. It must have taken over an hour.

Then the first descent, which I took very gingerly. The bike proved to be excellent at this, with perfect braking, and firmly planted. Still, arms aching, about 30 mins later I was at the back for cake stop at the van. By the time I'd stuffed down a banana, and refilled my bottles, everyone else had gone, except what became known as the 'Yeep Squad', after their greeting (and were at the older end of the scale). I began to climb. Bagargui. This became tough very soon. A kind of terror took over - this was only day one. Writing this now, the sense of exhaustion and pain has already faded, but I remember the sense of being stuck in your own head, just breathing, feeling the strength in your legs go, and the hill and the road still ahead. It was getting hotter, too.

About a third of the way up, the van passed me. Perhaps I should get in. I did. At the top, we waited for the final two to come up. Then I joined for the final climb of the Col. Larrau. This was the sort of distance I could do, not easily, but adequately.

We all assembled at the top, admired the long views, watched other riders, felt the heat, ate lunch, drank out the water, and tried to listen to the cricket news. Then it was time to ride into Spain.