The Autobus

http://www.flickr.com/photos/36349159@N03/5546732724/in/set-72157625648822151 This is not something i've really talked about, It's only the last few years i've realised what i achieved to make Paris, and it was only when i went to the the Alps about 4years ago with my friend Kieran Frend that i really understood. I have to admit that first day the mountains with Ki i shed a tear, climbing back over the Lautaret it bought it all back, well it bought a lot of things back, it made me realise how ill prepared we were to ride the mountains, i'd never seen the Alpes let alone ride them before the Tour, I'd won a stage of the Midi Libre just before the Tour, but that was just in the foothills of the Pyrenees, there was no pre Tour training camps for us it was straight to the Tour and i think it was the fact i never got to ride the Tour again that really got me, even after all the pain the Tour throws at you you want to go back for more. Also that i never achieved my full potential and that maybe the Tour was the best i ever was!! Climbing back over the Lautaret with Ki back to our digs the emotions came out and i'm man enough to say i started crying, even though Ki could have easily have dropped me he stayed with me, i don't think he quite knew how emotional i was but he knew being back in the mountains was bringing someting back, we didn't speak up the mountain, i don't think he knew what to say and i could have said anything anyway as i was too chocked, he didn't need to say anything anyway just riding with me was enough, at the top we stopped hugged, again we didn't say anything, we didn't need too, even if he only knew a little bit he knew those last few km ment something.......Cheers Ki. Life in the 'autobus!' This is the bit you rarely see on TV, most of the time all you see is the front of the race and the race for victory, not the daily survival to get to the finish inside the time limit, trying to make the next day and get to Paris, you rely on the veterans of the Tour to set the pace, they are the ones who know how much time we can lose on each climb, who set a pace not too slow, but also not too fast that we are wasting energy for the next day, these veterans are human calculators passing on their experience onto the autobus newbies. My worse day in the 'bus was the day after Alpe du Huex, the only real day i didn't think i would make Paris, we started on the Alpe but it was neutrialised to the bottom before the start proper, where we stopped to take off capes from the early morning cold desent, from the start proper, km zero, we had to climb the Lautaret and the Galibier, which happens to be about 50km of climbing in one go, tired from the day before i didn't feel great, which wasn't helped by the fact that Roche had his team attack from the gun, it wasn't long before i was in trouble and thinking i can't take this pace hoping the autobus would start soon, but those Tour veterans knew it was too early to start the bus as there was still 180km of racing to go, with the Lautaret, Galibier, Madeleine and the finish to La Plagne to climb, to many mountains to climb and to much time to loose. I think it must have been less than 10km into the Lautaret when i cracked and swung out of the line unable to take any more, or so i thought, as i drifted back Paul Kimmage shouted at me to get back in the line, saying it was too early to sit up, getting some strength from somewhere i got back on the line of riders praying i could hang on, my prayers were answered a few km later when it split, but it was still far to early to sit up completely, the veterans knowing we still had to make a good pace to make the time limit. The only real recovery we had that day were the desents, because when hit the valley roads we still had to ride through and off and it wasn't until we hit La Plagne the pace eased off, the veterans knowing we had plenty of time to make the time cut, but only after calculating how many minutes a km we could loose in the last few km. Me, Malc, Palov and Guy finished the day 34min 15sec down on stage winner Fignon, ready to fight the next day, another day in the mountains to Morzine, but one day closer to Paris. Looking at this photo i can still feel the pain.