Day 3: Raiders of the Savage Nipple

Our third day on the Pyrenees began in stealth mode; with a shared dormitory we had to assemble ourselves for breakfast in absolute silence. With 'Command Folder' in hand, we sat ourself down in the breakfast area to a seemingly half set table that consisted of a bowl for each person and a napkin. We soon discovered that the single utilitarian bowl in front of each of us was to be our only means to consume our hot chocolate / coffee / orange juice, toasted baguette and croissants.

Mike went through the now customary process of clumsily refolding the bedsheet sized map of the area, isolating the day's route to a concise A4 page segment – a process of much inconvenience to those attempting to consume their jam covered bread.

A review of the google map summary for the day's cycle revealed an anomaly that soon became known as the "savage nipple"; a segment of the ride that appeared to be a 700 foot rise in altitude over a distance of 300 feet - an increase that would warrant the use of climbing gear rather than a bike.

The Savage Nipple!

The team could only speculate about the nature of the "savage nipple" - in the meantime, the itinerary for the day was outlined with military precision; It was quickly agreed that vital supplies were needed from the local supermarket and Mike formalised a carefully considered shopping list that would satisfy the team's nutritional needs. So, in essence, a lot of cereal bars.

With the Col D'Aubisque looming on the horizon as the biggest challenge of the trip so far, nerves were on edge. A quick check of local meteorological projections (weather forecast) verified that temperatures would soar to 35+ degrees by mid afternoon - it was critical to get moving as soon as possible to take advantage of the morning's cool conditions.

With the fear inducing climb approaching, no time was wasted in refilling the aqua sustenance units (water bottles) and unleashing the metal steeds (bikes) from their stables (a store room), and within what seemed like seconds (minutes), the Raiders were mobilised.

Col d'Aubisque

Mike set off in the opposite direction to the riders – and for the first time in the trip, not because he was lost – but in order to backtrack to the local Intermarche to indulge in a little shopping.

While the Team Manager negotiated the demanding aisles of the french store, the riders were tackling intricate switchbacks at two thousand feet, rapidly gaining altitude. Glancing down into the valley revealed Laruns below as it slowly drifted into the morning mist.

peddling uphill, obviously

The guys were feeling pretty good about their pace, a respectable 6 miles per hour on a 10% incline – when suddenly a fellow cyclist with a red backpack nonchalantly whizzed past, with not so much as a respectful nod of acknowledgement to his fellow riders. Naturally, such an insult could not be tolerated, especially from some rookie who carried his own gear in a rucksack rather than employing the specialised services of a professional support crew (i.e. mike).

Between heavy panting, Mark explained to Greg and Tom that "keeping... a... modest... pace... at... the early... stages" was paramount to long term success – and with grumbles of dissent the young riders watched indignantly as the Red Backpack disappear into the distance, unchallenged.

Ass!

For several hundred more metres the youngsters flanked the Team Leader, but as the gradient intensified the trio's pace was beginning to slow – Mark claimed it was due to the heavy old frame of his bike – though the lad's quietly assumed it was due to the heavy old frame of the rider himself. The lack of pace was clearly illustrated when another contender began challenging the team for their position on the mountain – only this guy didn't even have a bike – and was taking a morning jog. 

With their reputations as serious cyclists at risk and Probert family honour on the line, Greg and Tom made an executive decision to shift up a gear and accelerate towards the peak, their hearts and minds set on reclaiming their position from the clutches of the Red Backpack.

Calf muscles throbbed as the duo powered up towards the Col, searching desperately for their target. With only two kilometres left before the peak Tom and Greg pushed their bodies to breaking point as they painstakingly closed the distance between themselves and the Red Backpack - and Mike watched in stunned disbelief from his position several hundred meters above.

neck and neck with the Red Backpack

As the Col's peak came into view, all three riders were neck and neck – with one stretch of road remaining before the finish line the Raiders tore ahead of the Backpack and sped into the Col's visitor car park, a mixture of sweat and tears running down their cheeks. Never had securing an utterly pointless win over an arbitrarily selected rival felt so good - whether the Red Backpack understood he was actually in a race, we'll never know - but who cares!

thrill of the win!

A welcome committee of fly covered horses awaited the pumped cyclists while Mike trotted down from a nearby hill where he had been securing “sniper” photos of the team's ascent. A few minutes later, Mark arrived to a banquet of baguettes, bananas, doughnuts and orange juice.

Hollywood posers!

the GoPro actually got a fly's wings in focus!!

carefully considered nutrition (crisps / donuts)

The team sat in dignified silence as they savoured their lunch overlooking the awe inspiring sight from the Col D'Aubisque with its majestic mix of aggressive rock and tree covered slopes.

natural beauty!

With full bellies, the Raiders were ready to practically free-wheel down the opposite side of the Col – a stunning descent offered up by the Cycling gods as reward to the painful ascent endured an hour before.

cruising

With the GoPro camera secured onto the frame of Greg's bike, the team enjoyed the spectacle of the valley below as they stormed down the side of the mountain. The maps' threat of the “savage nipple” - a seemingly abrupt and short climb, turned out to be a google maps anomaly. The site of the Nipple actually ended up being a load of sheep shading themselves under visitor's cars.

reaching the Savage Nipple takes Big Balls, as these sheep demonstrate

The team arrived literally at the hotel door at exactly the same moment, despite the clear advantage Mike had with a 2 litre engine; Mike's extra special ability to get lost, even with the simplicity of a rural road system and a comprehensive map came as no surprise to the riders, who were simply happy their gear had arrived at all.

A quick afternoon nap was followed a quick budget meeting, led by Finance Minister Mike. The meeting which consisted of several indecipherable spreadsheets and a shock and awe slideshow presentation made it clear (to Mike) that everyone owed him money. Nobody had the willpower to question the math, and with the promise of a day off to allow tired bodies to recover, the team headed downstairs for a beer and pizza!