I TRY NOT TO THINK OF MY HEART RATE, THE FEAR OF FAILURE AND THE WEIRD METALLIC TASTE OF BLOOD IN MY MOUTH
The engine room AND THE SCIENCE OF WATTAGE
In order for a 60kg Tour de France pro to ascend Alpe d’huez in 40 minutes, they’d need to expend 5.6 watts per kg, giving a total output of 336 watts. For a 105kg lug like Enright to get up in 77 minutes represents an expenditure of 2.85 watts per kg, or a total output of 299 watts. In other words, we told him he wasn’t trying hard enough.
are actually 22 hairpins on the Tour route, the final one numbered zero.
The nondescript finish line arrives on an avenue on the gentle slopes of the snow-capped Grandes Rousses. I crawl across and then realise I don’t have the strength to unclip my cleat from the pedal and begin to topple over in slow motion. In that moment I recall Peugeot’s PR man confirming to his Peugeot Cycles associate that I would treat this beautiful bike as if it was my own. At the last second, my sock slips out of the shoe and I catch myself. I sit dazed by the side of this deserted grey road with one shoe on, wind whipping through the shuttered chalets while I try to make some sense of what’s just happened.
It’s hard not to think of the ghosts who have passed this way. Of Marco Pantani, whose name still emblazons the tarmac all the way up the hill, his 37-minute ascent writ large in the tour record books, albeit tainted with the blanket suspicion of the EPO era. Or the recently departed Laurent Fignon, who stalked Peugeot’s Pascal Simon to his capitulation. Peugeot’s own Phil Anderson, the very first Australian to wear the Tour’s yellow jersey back in 1979, was a relative unknown from Melbourne who grabbed the maillot jaune in the Pyrenees and fended off the wily Bernard Hinault all the way to the 17th stage. Alpe d’huez proved his nemesis too.
Short of sitting through Evita in the Streatham Odeon to impress a girl, I think riding up that hill might have been the worst 77 minutes of my life. Even the run back down is frustrating, the road never really giving you a good look at it to get some speed up. A couple of hairpins from the bottom, I overcook one turn, end up on the wrong side of the road and almost bugsplat myself onto the front of a Renault van. The heart-rate trace recounting my slither into the oncoming vehicle doesn’t lie. So, yes, it is possible for a near-50-year-old desk jockey to ride up Alpe d’huez in one hit with no specific training, but it’s neither enjoyable nor recommended.
Some recompense comes the next day. Photographer Jahn and I head back into the mountains, driving the magnificent road up from Allemond to the Col de Croix de Fer. At 2067m above sea level, this pass links the Maurienne and Romanche valleys and is a wild and beautiful drive, climbing through larch forests and past two vast reservoirs before cresting in a jaw-dropping view over the triple peaks of the Aiguilles d’arves. The 508 is so much fun, finding the path of least resistance on the run back down, encouraging you to lean on its steering, take great bites out of well-sighted apexes and leap it off the heavy cambers. Pressure off, I even get back on the bike and enjoy a leisurely pedal.
Pop the Peugeot’s liftback, drop the seats and the bike fits inside easier than it would in my Range Rover Velar long termer. Surely there has to be a place for a car such as this; something light, fun to drive, smart and genuinely functional, yet we continue to turn our backs on cars like the 508.
On reflection, perhaps our desire to wedge ourselves into a cookie-cutter lifestyle has overwhelmed proper assessment of our needs and, come to think of it, capabilities. The Tour might well be won on the Alpe, but so too is a welcome dose of perspective.