Stage 6 Pragelato to Chaberton

The Queen stage:

At breakfast it was announced that only the first 50 people reaching the last Check point would race on to Fort Chaberton, where they would spend the night in the ruins.

I was bitterly disappointed, my whole reason for the trip was to climb the mountain to Chaberton - the symbol of the whole race to me. I was lying around 65th at the time and felt like pulling out of the race there and then.

But, first we have to be taken to the start of the race, this means a 15 minute freezing cold chair lift to the top of the mountain. This time I accept their kind offer of a warm green quilted jacket. I wear it like a smoking jacket, but for some reason the danish men amongst us snatch this opportunity to wear it as a skirt! I don't know much about Denmark and so must accept this behaviour as normal :-) Here is where I pick up my first real injury of the race. As the chair swings under my legs, the chain ring stabs into my knee cap and draws blood....ouch!

The start of the stage was a fast, and in places, very steep wooded singletrack. I managed to get a good start not far behind the fast boys and was able to hold on through the technical descent. A fast wide trail then ran alongside the river where I could roll a big gear. The next section was an asphalt climb of about eight km's. I attacked this as hard as I could out of the saddle all the way up. Later I spotted Ludmilla and tried to stay with her. Another eight km's or so of off-road double track followed and then some ups and downs, where the air smelled strongly of coriander. I couldn't see any, but it was incredibly strong and and made me feel a little bit giddy with it's pungency......delicious. This led to a sharp peak with antennae on top. This was a hike-a-bike section extreme! I had fitted my ironbike carrying strap (...... patent pending:-)) and used it in anger for the first time.

At the CP at the top I saw Benoit, one of the Belgians who bears a striking resemblance to Paul's favourite tdf rider... Vinikourov, tucking into the food. I thought he must be having a bad day as I've never ridden in his company before. I passed through and left him there.

The next 14km was a mix of off-road, road and singletrack descent that dropped me into the CP and to my disbelief people are still setting off to Chaberton! I run around trying to find if I can still go and Lana and Andre grab my bike take it to the front and I run to get some food. They and Gianfranco push me over the line with a jam sandwich.

-Lana and Andre were a wonderful dutch couple we met in the food queue on the first night in Entraque. Andre was racing the Ironbike himself, but crashed out quite spectacularly on day two and spent the rest of the week wearing a neck brace and hobbling around on crutches -

My mind is still a blur, as I set off for Chaberton. I made it, then whoops! I nearly go off a loose bend. I get a bit paranoid in case I crash and don't make it. Then a flying thing gets under my helmet strap and stings or bites me, it's very painful and now I start to worry about anaphalaxis preventing me from finishing today :-) It's now very hot as I start the first part of the climb, some locals pass water to me and one woman runs alongside me and tips a full jug of ice cold water over my groin!!! I yell loudly in shock and everybody laughs - it must be how they amuse themselves in the mountains :-)

Mount Chaberton on Google earth here: You need google earth installed on your machine.

From here we head off-road, at first shaded by trees and then opens up to the grey rock of the mountain itself. Soon it's impossible to ride and I start to push, the track becomes narrower and much more rocky and I shoulder the bike using my carrying device. An hour later and I drink the last of my water and I have no food. It is still blisteringly hot. I assume that there will be water on the trail somewhere, but I can't see anything as I look up the mountain - only the track winding on for ever. For the next two hours I carry the bike, occasionally getting a chance to push it on the smoother sections. I'm beginning to feel quite thirsty and dizzy from hunger. Now the mountain rears up quite steeply and as I look up, I see a figure walking quite sprightly down the trail. I say hello and he says. " I am hiking to Cesana. I have told them to send water down, everyone has been asking for water. Do you have water?" I say I have no food or water. He replies " I have no water, but I have some biscuits." And before I can protest he hands me half a dozen. I thank him, put them into my pack and press on. Now is the real test. I'm a vegan, but are the biscuits? I'm feeling very hungry and quite dizzy from the low blood sugar. I decide that I can't be sure if the biscuits are safe for me to eat. I look to see if my friendly benefactor is nearby, he's not. I cast the biscuits down the mountain, so that they can't tempt me anymore. I rationalise this by telling myself that "I'm hungry, but not starving" In my addled state I start to think it was a test, the IB is testing me to see if I am strong enough. "Yes, that's it, it was a test" I say to myself......... "Get thee behind me Satan, begone!" ........ :-)

An hour later, I'm three hairpin bends from the finish and breathing is a little more difficult at over three thousand metres of altitude. I carry the bike for 30 steps and rest, 30 steps and rest....... until the top hoves into view and I see the finish line, I stagger across and they write down my number and that's it! No cheers, no fanfare just my rasping breath. I see a bottle of water on the table, take it and down it in one. All around people are lying around in the warm rays of the evening sun, all wearing red fleece jackets, black fleece leggings and white hats. Claudia grabs me and drags me into the ruined building and I am surprised to be walking in six inches of snow! And it's cold, freezing cold, I immediately begin to chill and shake. Claudia hands me a bundle of clothing and shows me to my bed in the snow. I rush outside to get some heat and get changed. Tim, one of the Belgian guys, takes this picture:

copyright: Tim Vandendaele.

I find my bag that had been sent up - we had to hand in a small bag at registration, containing riding kit for the day after Chaberton - in it I had stashed two energy bars and packet of noodles. Once I'd devoured these, I started to feel a bit better and thought I'd better get a few photographs. I sat on the peak and asked Heinrich to take my picture, an oldish distinguished looking guy moved up next to me and smiled to the camera.

I didn't know who this chap was but found this later on the IB website:

Turin Major Chiamparino climbed the Mountain by feet, in the morning,and was
there to plause the first to come. He was together with the majors ofClavière,
Cesana and Montgenèvre.

Politicians!..... never miss a photo opportunity:-)

I sit on the edge of the mountain and phone Jane in Ibiza, it sounds like she's a few feet away. Tentatively, she says. "Did you get up the mountain?" I say."yes". I hear Yaaaaaaaaaay! and then Yaaaaaaaaaay! in the background, it's LCO on the extension. After several euros worth of yaaaaaays(it's expensive to call Ibiza from Italy), Jane confesses that they'd been practising commiseration platitudes all day. Such as: Never mind I'm sure you tried your best, There's always next time.......etc. So I guess I must have caught them unprepared :-)

As the sun sets it begins to get very cold, someone lights a huge bonfire and warms up an equally huge vat of red wine. We tuck into some pasta..........siempre pasta!

The sky was so clear that you could see a billion stars.