Day 8 - Mirepoix to Mont Louis

64 miles completed. In 9 hours.

Made it Ma! Top of the world!

So, we're currently eating breakfast 50 metres from the historic military installation in Mont Louis. The moment yesterday evening when the fort swung into view below us was pretty exhilerating. I'm not sure what the motorists made of me whooping, laughing and cheering as I freewheeled the 3 miles down from the brow of the "hill" into Mont Louis, but I don't care one jot.

It was hot again yesterday. We set off early from Mirepoix in the hope of avoiding the worst of the heat. The first hour saw 14 miles whittled away, as Paul and I raced along the flat towards the base of the main bit of the Pyrenees. They've got weird Haut Pyrenees, Midi Pyreness and suchlike, I don't really understand, they're all bloody high. Maybe if I'd done some research before the trip I'd have more of an idea about these things, but never mind.

Once that hour was complete, "shit got real". The remaining 52 miles took 8 hours. Paul had assured us that the first 40 miles were pretty flat, but then there were 20 kilometres of climbs up into Mont Louis where it flattened off, but in fairness he did warn that there was a little bit of a climb towards the end of that 40 miles too.

About that little bit of a climb... It's called "Col de Mort". That sounds like a well-meaning English eccentric, but actually means Summit of Death. It was aptly named.

The rest of the afternoon was rather a blur. It's a constant slog at anywhere between 5 and 8mph, just trying to keep bringing your legs over in bottom gear. The sights are spectacular, but all you can look at yourself is the road ahead of you, specifically the next 4-5 feet to watch out for potholes, shingle and Old Brian's backside in front of you. I saw roasted frogs today. It's so hot up the mountain that the frogs had been run over by a car, but then their entire bodies had been cooked and all that was left was the skin. That's how hot it is. Paul's got molten tarmac in his cleats and OB has got it on his mudguard. I think I'm too slow to attract the molten bits. I probably cool it back down again and allow it to set.

Other highlights from today's ride?

Theo being and absolute legend and doing a proper Tour de France style support job. Sitting at the back of the trio, then slowly working his way up offering drinks. This usually meant he met me and OB on the way up, pulled over the give us drinks, then carried on ahead to meet Paul, but stayed where he'd met Paul so me and OB got a bonus drinks break again 10 minutes down the road.

Lots of drivers slowing down to make sure me and OB weren't dying as we lay exhausted on the side of the road during our refreshment breaks.

During one of these breaks an old boy came whistling up the same section of slope that OB and I had slogged up at a pitiful pace, AND HE WAS CARRYING A RUCKSACK! He looked most confused/offended when I clapped him on the way past.

Patisserie pitstop. Cream cake purchases should be a mandatory part of hill stages on the TdF.

The houses on the way up leave bottles of water at their gates, specifically for idiot cyclists like us.

The terror on our faces when we whistled down a 1,000 foot descent, because we all knew it meant we had to climb back up it on the other side of the valley.

The Ashes!


Last night we stayed in the only hotel in Mont Louis. It's got fearful reviews on Trip Advisor, but that seems pretty unwarranted. Our room smells of smoke, and the bike storage doesn't seem particularly secure, but apart from that it's decent. We even have a living room area attached to our twin room, Theo's slept there which has muted the snoring a bit (in both directions). Having failed to find delivery pizza, we ventured down to dinner...

OB made a friend. Possibly for life. Our waiter was the sternest, campest Frenchman I've ever seen, but OB managed to sweet-talk him around. Between OB's sweaty OAP charm and Paul's cod-French, we managed to coax the waiter into talking English and we ended up with an amazing 5 course meal (for about £30). By the end of the meal our waiter was calling OB "Papa" and gently rubbing his shoulders when we brought the bill. It was a lovely end to a tough day.

Quotes of the day -

2. I need two fingers of your vaseline before I go to bed Bri.
1. He won't be able to hold onto me anyway, I'm too sweaty.