Paul McIntosh McIntosh - Peaky Climbers: How eight amateur cyclists became kings of the mountains

www.peakyclimbers.com

How eight amateur cyclists became kings of the mountains

Paul McIntosh with Anna Hughes

First published 2018

Copyright Paul McIntosh & Anna Hughes 2018

The right of Paul McIntosh & Anna Hughes to be identified as the authors of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the copyright holder.

Published under licence by Brown Dog Books and

The Self-Publishing Partnership, 7 Green Park Station,

Bath BA1 1JB

www.selfpublishingpartnership.co.uk

ISBN printed book: 978-1-78545-333-5

ISBN e-book: 978-1-78545-334-2

Cover design by Kevin Rylands

Internal design by Andrew Easton

Daily route profile maps by Simon Warren

Printed and bound in the UK

Dedicated to the memory of Maisie Norton and Valerie McIntosh

Profits from the sale of this book will be donated to the Caring Cancer Trust and the British Lung Foundation. Thank you for supporting these causes that are very close to our hearts.

Contents

Prologue

Col = a mountain pass

It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves

Edmund Hillary

The road rises snake-like ahead, tarmac shimmering and sun-heated in the distance. A series of zig-zags leads steadily upwards, shaking off the clutches of the sheep-scattered valley. Patches of pines stand in isolation as the road emerges above the tree line, vegetation growing sparse between the exposed rocks. Breaths come in deep, steady gasps, filling the head, while hearts thud in ears. Thighs burn and feet spin, hands grip bars, dragging the body upwards. As the incline steepens the chain clunks heavily into the lowest gear; the only tactic that remains is to stand in the pedals, the full force of the body striving upwards, running on the bike, the frame swaying in a broken rhythm beneath.

The view opens up as the rider ventures ever higher, peaks on all sides, a sprinkling of snow on the tallest, a scene of breathtaking grandeur. It is humbling to creep through such landscapes, and all thoughts of proving strength and satisfyingthe ego are lost: it is in climbing mountains that we discover how insignificant we really are.

There are two choices: to maintain the upward trajectory or turn around and retreat. In edging beyond the comfort zone we stretch ourselves, learn our true limits, expand our physical, mental and emotional capabilities. It is more than simply reaching the peak: climbing mirrors how we tackle the challenges of our daily lives, chipping away at those seemingly insurmountable problems, persevering, breaking the task into manageable chunks, dealing with the immediate as it approaches. In return we gain satisfaction, freedom and an overwhelming sense of achievement.

The magnificence of the mountains has called people from age to age, from explorer to tourist, adventurer to sportsman. There is so much that is unique about such landscapes, a place where the view evolves with each mile, where upward effort is followed by freewheeling reward, where the lack of human habitation means slopes teem with wildlife. Full of beauty, and of indescribable scale, this presents the ultimate challenge: those who climb mountains can do anything.

Day One

Luz-Saint-Sauveur Luz-Saint-Sauveur

Distance 94km Elevation gain 3553m

The Tour de France has always been an item in the sporting calendar that grabs my attention. All sports do, really: football to re-live my glory days of managing a local amateur team; cricket because my dad was always dragging us to his matches when we were young; rugby because of the bullish but gentlemanly teamwork on display. But cycling is different. There is something entrancing about a group of athletes racing through the stunning landscape of France, an element of danger, tactics and skill, but above all a huge show of strength. It is incredibly impressive, multi-day racing, to hit the road at speed and to sustain it for days on end. And the mountainclimbs those are something else. Watching riders ascend grabs me more than any of the rest of it. You can see the pain etched on their faces, you can see the exhaustion rolling through their bodies yet still they climb, determined not to let the slope beat them. Something in me wanted a piece of it.

A sports enthusiast, I played football well into my forties, tried my hand at running, then turned to golf when middle-age spread hit. I never saw myself as a cyclist. But in my mid-forties, I took part in the London 100 sportive; raising money by riding a bike seemed to be the done thing. It was bloody tough but I actually enjoyed it. So I joined the local social cycling club and caught the bug. Fast forward four years and, with seven others who have become dear friends as weve made our preparations, were about to take on the most difficult challenge any of us has ever faced: to cycle 20 peaks of the Tour de France in seven days.

So, picture the professional peloton. Matching jerseys, off the scale expensive bikes, in their team the climber, the sprinter, the general dogsbody or domestique. All at the absolute peak of fitness, primed for the task ahead, accompanied by an entourage of support vehicles, nutritionists, coaches, mechanics, spare wheels, spare bikes, and a carefully calculated daily allowance of calories. It might be supposed, then, that the mountains are the domain only of riders whose Lycra doesnt sag around a midriff, whose training regime wasnt made up in the pub, and who have spent months in high altitudes acclimatising and preparing. Enter the Peaky Climbers.