Damian's Blog - Day 8

After a few glasses of medicinal local cru last night, I crawl out of bed and my knee looks like a football as the effects of the trip start to take their toll.
The brilliant news to make our day is that we have the longest climb of our challenge this morning - 20 km to reach Port de Phailheres - I can hardly contain my joy. No really.

We have now completed a week on the bikes, and I have a small confession to make. I have been too exhausted /apathetic to do any laundry, and have adopted the Claudio 'Tinkerman' Ranieri rotation system for my cycle kit, one day on, one day off. I may not look like a professional cyclist, but I definitely smell like one. I have previously documented the wind assistance that has resulted from our energy bars and supplements, and now our clothes are standing up on their own. It's no wonder that most of us have a 3m exclusion zone around us - a bit like the Reddy Brek glow - and the salt stains on my lycra are not very attractive either. Hmm. Nice.

At the other end of the scale we have some immaculately turned out cyclists such as Mark Kirkland and Jonny Nye, both of whom have not had a hair out of place all week. This morning's climb is a good example. It is the longest and most gruelling to date, and I arrive at the top of Port de Phailheres with sweat pouring off me, akin to the Roy Hattersley Spitting Image puppet. I collapse in a pile, gasping for air when I see messrs Kirkland and Nye beaming like radiant John Barrowman look alikes, slapping eachother on the back and looking like they could burst into a song and dance routine at any moment. If I had any energy left I'd give them both a mouthful, but instead take solace in my mars bar and tepid tea.

C.H.I.P.S Pyrenees Style

Lunch is a couple of hours later, and we take it al fresco where Jo and the support team have prepared a picnique with a strong local influence. I particularly like the pork pie and Branstons pickle, how very French. Breakfasts on the trip have also been identical - porridge, croissants, more porridge and nuclear coffee, all watered down with a gallon of Lucozade and a sprinkling of energy bars. Good grief. The one thing I am really looking forward to is getting back to a normal diet, we are all pining for some decent food and I'm particularly looking forward to visiting my old friend Colonel Sanders on Sunday evening.

The post lunch jaunt is up the Col de Jau, a lengthy 10 km, and it is fantastic to see the group all digging deep for one of the final climbs. Special mention goes to Peter 'The Daddy' Harvey who at 52 is one of the more seasoned cyclists on the trip. Peter has had a distinguished career in banking and has trained incredibly hard for this trip as well as personally raising well over £60k for the charity. He has even brought out his own support team with his wife Annie and daughter Sarah providing fantastic help to all of us - the only down side is he is a died in the wool Saracens fan, oh well, you can't have it all I suppose..

How are the thighs...

The hotels on the trip have been varied, but tonight's 2 star accommodation is a real beauty. We are greeted by the owner, who is a cross between Magda, the old lady from 'Something about Mary', and a fading cabaret cruise liner entertainer. She hails from Rochdale, was bought up in Belgium, seems to enjoy a drink or 4 and now runs this hotel in Prades. Not very well. Dinner is chicken bones and clams with rice. She calls it French fusion, we call for pizzas. Dickie says if his children ever misbehave, he will send them to stay here for a couple of days as a punishment. Harsh.