Day Eight

Day 8 Sospel to Cannes

Today was a home-coming, a celebration. We had the warm Coastal air and blue skies, undulating hills, a chance to cycle the Monoco Grand Prix circuit and treated to a long, lazy Lunch on Paloma Picasso's beach. Everything was beautiful. We rode in groups and once we hit the Riviera towns and traffic we were slowly reintroduced to the real world, having descended from the mountains and our commune in the clouds. Arriving in Cannes is always a weird one. This year I didn't want the ride to end. I love the mountains and hate the slap back to reality and the world of Advertising. I had a strong ride this year and thank you all for sponsoring me in aid of Leuka.

Day Seven

Elevation 5906m
Col de la Bonette 2802m/9193ft
Col St Martin 1500m/4921ft
Col de Turini 1604m/5462ft

Day 7 La Sauze to Sospel
161km

Really special day. We woke up to a fresh morning with a bright sky. Clouds covered a clear blue background waiting to shine through on us. We had a good ride out to Bonette and started the climb feeling fresh. I think the last few days with sunshine had really improved the moral and mood of the group. Its a completely different experience cycling in the heat and sunshine. Although an overcast day provides perfect temperatures for exercise, we were much happier today. Col de la Bonette was to be our longest and highest climb.

The peak is the highest paved road in the Alps at 2802m/9193ft and the climb went on and on and on from tranquil alpine meadows and woodland to rocky snow capped harsh mountain. We really pushed ourselves and went for it, you have to focus on the task in hand to get you most of the way and then the other parts you distract yourself with useless conversation with cycling buddies. Today is big, 3 mountains and cycling into the night.


Reaching the summit of the Bonette was very welcome, not only were we exhausted and bored of the grind to the top but we were cold. The mountain had snow over the past few days and had only reopened the day before. At the top we were greeted by a big group of riders, support crew with yummy sweets and just awesome views over the alps and down to where we would be descending to.


By now a lot of riders have complaints and niggles that aggravate and get worse. Dealing with the pain is part of the daily grind now. PJ was on the floor in agony, tears streaming down his face. Its horrible to see comrades in this way but it is the reality of the ride. Impressively, he has returned to cycling after an road accident that broke 2 vertebrae over the winter. He is struggling to ride due to the pain. After some snaps by the sign we continued forth. The top of this mountain is very steep and the road has sheer drops off which really bring home the risks we are taking. I don’t enjoy the descending because I have come off the bike before and accidents usually happen going downhill. The roads are not always in good condition and the bike can pick up speed very quickly, I also still find the breaking hard on the wrists and strains my fingers and connecting muscles. At the bottom of the descent most had stopped for lunch, we decided to keep going for another hour and were on a fast road in the lower valley with the wind whipping through us. We joined a cycle lane which was smooth and fast in our peloton. Once we hit the next small village, Isola we stopped for lunch. A tiny bar was open and we shared baguettes. Sick of coca cola now we opted for an refreshing change to Orangina. Not really full from our food stop we continued along the main road, we lost the boys ahead of us but Texan Paul waited for us and we rode in a peloton through strong head winds. The wind was bashing us about and we fought on and glided down the balcony road of the mountains transforming into the deep sandy, purple rock and warmer air of the Provence and Cote d'Azur. St Martin is off the main road and a steep climb back into alpine forest. We are greeted by Kai from RSA Films and Colin in Fireflies caps in an open-top Jaguar with their little dog, it makes us smile to have people join us to support our ride.

It was humid and muggy today. Claire and I rode strong and caught the boys, surprised at our own efforts on the climb. We joined them at the water fountain as they splashed around like school boys and posed for stupidly funny photos and we stood and laughed. We stuck together for the last few clicks and at the top rode in in a line together, breathless and shattered. At the cafe we ordered in waffles and teas and introduced Kai and Colin into the mad, sweaty, famished world of ours as we inhaled our food, stretched and joked. News broke that 2 riders had been involved in a crash and that they had been taken to hospital. It was a sharp stab in the stomach as we all woke up to the reality of it and worried for their well-being.

Once we reached the bottom of the mountain we joined the front riders and waited at a patisserie in a beautiful medieval village. Details were filtering through about the crash and in the winds on the balcony main road down towards St Martin, Sue had been blown over her handlebars and Vlaster had collided over the top of her and landed in the middle of the road and injured his collar bone. Sue was shaken and had road rash and severe bruising but fortunately had not broken anything. The support vehicles had scrapped them off the road and taken them to the hospital.

It was early evening now and beautiful light, all the riders had been waiting and congregating before Turini, known as Firefly mountain to us because of all the meaning and experiences on the mountain. The plan was to climb the mountain as one group to unite us and allow us all the share something together.
As we were relishing the evening sunshine but without the entire group we started to ascend Col de Turini with the ladies leading. 70 riders climbing in a swarm of red jersey's felt so special. I had been taking the day in my stride as I didn't want it to end and this was something to remember always.
In my first year with the fireflies, the founding riders had painted 'Norris', my father's name on the road, to honour his memory. As we neared the corner where we had printed it, Jake and Luke Scott appeared next to me. They wanted to be there with me when we cycled over his name. He was like a father to them and Jake is the reason I was able to do the ride originally; He bought me my first bike. I felt anxious and as we continued on but I became distracted by the group until I heard Jake shout 'there's Norris. Everybody stop!'

A rush of emotion pumped through me as I pulled over and turned around. Jake had run over and lay face down over the faded 'Norris' painted on the ground as if to hug it.
I looked around at my friends and comrades and felt overwhelmed as I grabbed my head and keeled over into myself. This was a release, tears streamed out of my eyes and I cried uncontrollably. Emma and Jake wrapped me up in their arms and I felt loved and a strong bond to all my firefly friends. I was blessed with kind and beautiful words from loving friends who told me how everyone could empathize with my situation for doing this ride in direct consequence of my fathers death. I spent time with Luke and Jake and Adrian
and was able to sense the bond and admiration we had for each other shine through. This felt like the beginning of closure, not only to the ride but hopefully to four years of grieving.



You can just make out the NORRIS faded on the tarmac.


We posed for a group photo lying on the tarmac and then I let the group continue on as I needed to take it in and have some space to get my head back to normality. I pedaled on with Luke and the whole group seemed to be thoughtful and in a peaceful state. I felt drained and on the verge of collapse so ate what we had in the group for some energy and continued on with some of the slower riders who had injuries. We reached the top of the col to be greeted by a corridor of cheering, celebrating fireflies. The night was closing in and we started on the descent. It was long and as we lost the light we had only small bike lights and the moonlight to help us stick to the road. Feeling the chill and wanting to be home in bed, I cycled down steadily. I saw a spark come out in front of me and for a moment wondered was that a spark from my breaking or was that a firefly? I pedaled on and saw another spark, I screamed 'firefly' and the others with screamed that they had seen them too. We were caught up in a child-like excitement as fireflies darted out of the darkness and all around us.
Each time we saw another we screamed or chuckled and soon Ady shouted for us to stop. We stood motionless, captivated by the night sky and the whirling, dancing fireflies. It was perfect. The myth of the mountains came alive. Like a dream.

After 14hours, by 10:30pm we had made it to the hotel, cold, tired and fulfilled.

Day Six

Elevation Col de Vars 2108m/6916ft

Day 6 La Sauze to La Sauze Loop
150km

I didn’t know what today held in store but I woke up absolutely knackered. I felt pretty wrecked but had to get my head together and out the door. We filmed our start, exciting a garage and cycling down the 4 km hill to our hotel. I cycled with Tess, Claire and Phil. Tess had finished the night before in flood of tears and agony from back pain. She is a brave soldier. Claire and I pushed on on Vars and climbed well. We the same speed ad are in sync so luckily have established a good rhythm. The climb was incredible with views that blew us away. We waited for Tess atop the mountain and pushed on in the sunshine with Phil. It was a beautiful day with beaming sunshine and it was the first real heat we had felt since we started. Descending the Vars was even more sensational. We had felt anxious and irritated that we would be going back over ground that we had already covered but it was just magical. This was definitely the way to do the Vars route. South to North and as we came out of the top of the col and could see into the distance, past the trees, the grand Alps revealed themselves. I can’t really describe it but the feeling was very fulfilling. I recognized where we had come from and soaked in the environment. This is were we were and there is nowhere else I’d rather be!

In the town below Vars we stopped for an early, lazy lunch and spoilt ourselves with steak frites and banana splits in the sunshine. From there we cycled along the valley floor in heavy winds in a peloton. We protected Tess by cycling head of her so she could travel in our slip stream. We cycled to a lake and followed it around and into higher ground. My legs felt strong and when we met some other flies, I pushed ahead, testing my strength; it has increased and I feel quite fresh. This is something that tends to happen on the second part of the ride, the body starts coping and responding to the physical challenge to functions optimally meaning you improve and get faster. We pedaled hard and wanted to get the day out of the way so we could relax and have some time before dinner. The warmth from the sun was glorious and it felt so good to have a warm breeze and light envelop you. It took longer than expected and once we were back nearby we started to dream of ice-creams so decided to stop at Barcelonette. As we got closer so did the dark clouds and we could see the bad weather front hanging over the distant mountains. We continued home, no ice-creams, famished and exhausted. This day with less mountains was equally as tiring.

Day Five

Day 3
La Grave to La Sauze


Fathers Day
I started the day later than I’d hoped and had tired legs and a very tired mind. My clock was back on UK time and so I was late for breakfast. I managed to have a great day though. Found my legs and begin to see the time passing quickly as we leave the big Alps behind. There was a fresh layer of snow overnight and a sharp chill in the air. Col de Lauterat is a lovely climb but exposed and had fierce winter weather troubling our climb. It is a nice climb to reintroduce the legs back into it after a days break. We weren't as high as we had been so this col was quite pleasant. There is a whipping wind that means descending is a challenge and reminiscent of our time in the blizzard on l’Iseran. I dress up with more layers, 6 on my body and 2 gloves and a balaclava, hat and helmet. I have a comfortable descent but the bike feels twitchy in the wind. Descending is a mixture of sensations, its exhilarating but also terrifying depending on the road conditions, corners and steepness. I hate it at times but love it. This descent was long with wide roads and gentle corners that you can travel at faster speeds down, once we left the higher ground we started to warm up rapidly. The day was overcast but fairly humid.
I loved this day and enjoyed the changes in scenery. At the bottom of Izoard I stopped with a group to de-layer and have a chocolat chaud. Continuing I cycled well and felt that I had cracked the mental approach to cycling a mountain. I have managed to break down the climb and realize that even though it looks so far away and impossible, its not. I’ll be there in an hour or two having cycled through new places and villages, up steep climbs and undulating terrain, Positive Mental Attitude (PMA). That is what is so invigorating about riding a bicycle, it is an extension of you and can take you anywhere.

The Izoard is a grand mountain that changes from green woodland to sandy eroding desert rocks and almost baron of the alpine scenery we are familiar with. You feel like you are moving on and we are pretty much out of the Grande Alps after this one. The best thing about the ride has to be to camaraderie and a prime example of it was today as Mareka struggled to climb with a knee injury and Paul. R and Mark. J took it in turns to ease the climb by pushing up as they climbed next to her.

After this big one we descended on a cafe for Spaghetti Carbonara. This was the best lunch yet and to top it off pregnant fireflyette Tracey and her boyfriend, Chris support us in their hired flowery camper van because she can stay away from the ride on this anniversary year. Friendly faces with offers of chocolate en route help while the day away.
The three musketeers head off to climb the Vars together. It was a really good gradient for me and felt good on the legs. Poor Tess found it tough and was slowing up behind Claire and I. The climb was long and the last 7km was through a desolate ski town and into vast nothingness with grey skies which became monotonous. We were tired and wanted the climb to end. When it finally did we stopped in on the col cafe and rested before heading off. At the bottom of the descent Phil, Leaf and I speed back in the wind slip-streaming each other. It was tiring and after that we then has a 4km steep climb into the hotel. Oh well better just get it over with. Spinning on and up, the hotel comes sooner than expected. The light is dimming and the sky is warm and rosey as the light slowly disappears.

Day Four - A long day full of beauty

Day 4 Valloires to La Grave
137.5km
The Three Musketeers -Tess, Claire and I climbed the 5km of Telegraphe to descend in the sunshine over to Col de Glandon. This was a big mountain and a new climb. We all felt strong but Tess had terrible back pain and problems caused by riding which was staining her leg and back. We rode steadily and continued towards the top on a slight gradient to be greeted with the last 7km steepening up from 6% to 12%. We all found it tough and seperated, grinding away at our own pace. I managed to find a good mental place to stay in and realised that it is achievable and that self-doubts infecting the mind don't have a place here in the mountains. I'd found my inner strength and began to believe in it which meant that I could start to enjoy the expereince. It is quite an achievement particularly on a mountain that you can see the ascent and profile as you climb. The last 2km where on a sheer front so we climbed 12% of short switch backs.


Glandon was tough and long and steep and looming. I wrapped up warm and started the 30km descent with PJ. We saw flies resting up for a pasta lunch at a cafe and I stopped and caught up with the girls. Food was running low so we all shared as more flies descended onto this little lonely eatery on Glandon. We headed off and towards the infamous L’Alpe d’Huez with Ben and Claire. We cycled into a cafe full of flies to refuel in the town at the bottom of l'Alpe D'Huez and Ben majestically and comedically clipped the curb landing upside down on his back still clipped into his bike, wheels spinning in the air. A brief visit to the local bike shop, some sweeties and food in our bellies and we headed onto l'Alpe D'Huez. We were routed over the first 5 switchbacks at +10% gradient and then took a side road that led to a beautiful and exhilarating Balcony Road across the side of the mountain with sheer drops overlooking the valley floor. It was hot and steep. I rode with Alan and met Simon and Richard at a fresh water trough. We doused our heads in the cold water and filled our water bottles. The refreshing water brought us a new lease of life ad we continued in a group as Claire and Tess joined us. The climb is quite incredible and the trees cleared to reveal the valley below surrounded by the impressive Alps. We came upon Olivia sitting, looking out over the view. We stop and take it in. Both Alan and I get overwhelmed and our eyes begin to water. In that moment we are pretty impressed that we have cycled ourselves to here. We continue on a winding Balcony road with sheer drops. The road is only wide enough for one car and its a bit frightening passing them on a cliff edge. We descend back to the main road and have an uphill slog to La Grave - our home for the rest day. We’ve been in the saddle for 10-11 hours and we’re all very low on energy as we start a long 12 km ascent to the hotel on a main road. We fill up on crisps and sweets but the high from that doesn’t last long and we are hard pushed to keep the legs turning. Once we get close, I recognised that glacier and surrounding area. The excitement of making it home soon takes over and lifts our spirits but we don't seem to get any closer. We are so small on these mountains and it has been a long few days. Knackered and with little left we make a last push into La Grave and into the hotel. We have completed four days in the saddle and we have reached our halfway point. Tomorrow we rest!

Day Three - Snow Day

Day 3 Val D'Isere to Valloire
106km
We are half way up the I'Iseran which is a 48km climb from Bourg St Maurice, we continue on the last 15km that averages 6% to reach almost 3000metres high. We start the day knowing that the Col l’iseran is snow capped. This is a tough mountain with very step parts. It is the second highest point in Europe! We begin cycling all at the same time. 75 riders leave and me near the back see the mountain roads heading up dotted with fireflies. It shows me the way but also the gradient of the climbing to come. I pace myself and Chris, a faster, stronger rider sticks with me and films with his helmet cam. We chat and laugh and become mountain buddies, even if you don’t talk it is nice to have company.
Your breathing and pedaling gets in sync and without a word, you help push each other onwards and upwards. We climb at a good pace, overtaking people and greeting them and encouraging them. I listen to my breathing and don’t push too hard. I surprise myself as I feel strong. I am feeling positive and am into the ride now. As we get about halfway into the climb we reach the snow. Woody tells us the roads ahead are cold but clear. We push on and my warm layers that seemed unnecessary at the bottom now become necessary as it starts to snow heavily. The temperature at the top of the col is -3 degrees. We have snow falling on us for about 40 minutes of climbing, we joke at the vast whiteness and floating road, we have reached in heaven. Our bike frames are covered in snow and any exposed hair is gaining icicles. At the top I get a picture in the snow by the altitude sign. After a quick bite to eat my fingers start to freeze. Back on with the gloves and I start to descend alone into the whiteness.

Visibility is low and my face and hands are freezing. I am squeezing the breaks as hard as I can and I am not sure that I can tell whether I’m breaking or not. I get an overwhelming feeling of fear and start to break down. My core temperature has dropped so low and I am shaking on the bike. There is no sign of the snow letting up or that I am getting closer to the end of the snow on the mountain. As the cold gets to me I start to panic about what the best thing is to do. I’m terrified to keep cycling and have very poor visibility but I can’t stay where I am. I stop to shake my hands to regain feeling. Two fireflies who are behind me stop. Paul give me his spare knee warmers and wraps them around my gloves for warmth. He adjusts my breaks so that they are closer to the wheel rims. I continue with them but loose them on the snow filled icy roads. I stopped again, terrified I might end up over the edge because I have lost sensation in my fingers again. Thrashing my hands around I feel the blood slowly flow and try to continue, in floods of tears that freeze to my face. After a short while I come across a tunnel and silhouettes of cyclists jumping around and huddling. I roll towards them shaking and bubbling over in a state of delirium, close to hypothermia. They wrap their arms around me and lift me off the bike. Dr Bob, one of the oldest riders (and yes, a doctor) has some hand warmers, he rips off my wet, freezing (winter) gloves and rubs them. Unzipping my jacket I wrap my arms around me and clench my hands under my armpits, the best way to get warmth. We stand close together in a circle for warmth ad do the hokey cokey to stay sane and keep moving. A vehicle passes and offers help to get us off the mountain. The blizzard moved in so quickly that we are lucky the tunnel was there. A few fireflies further down the mountain hid in a cow shed and others flagged down passing cars. We were all on the verge of hypothermia, shaking uncontrollably and frozen. The support crew rescue all the riders off the mountain as the snow and wind whips around as we descend in vehicles. The support crew rescue all the riders off the mountain as the snow and wind whips around as we descend in vehicles. The bikes are left for the support team to return for when we are all safe and getting warm. In a small cafe out of the snow, we huddle and drink chocolat chaud and eat warm food. We are all wet, cold and recovering.

The sun comes out and slowly we start to move away from the trauma of the snowy mountain. Most of us realize how close to freezing and death we just were and how insignificant we are on these mountains and in these fast moving weather fronts and environment.


We embrace the beaming sunshine and stark contrast in blue skies continuing forth slowly still stunned by what just happen. I take it very slowly and cycle with Tess and Alan over to Telegraphe. As we continue on the descent, I contemplate our luck. I am overwhelmed by what we have just been through and find the ride a little scary. I realize how vulnerable we are upon our trusty steads and the damage that can be done by mother nature. We might be a Tour de Force but there are forces way stronger than us that can change our lives forever. This felt ambiguous and is essentially why we were all here doing the Fireflies Ride. We finish the day elated and closer than before sharing hugs and stories of our rescues.

Route & Reasons

Eve of the ride
In our first night speeches I listened to all these people introduce themselves and explain their various reasons for being here, who they have lost, who they know suffering with cancer and how they want to help. The stories are remarkable and very moving. We have 75 people riding to raise money for Leuka including a Leukaemia survivor, John, cycling with us. He received a standing ovaition having explained his history and that 18 months ago he had to say goodbye to his 2 children and family as he went into receive treatment at the Catherine Lewis Centre. He has only been in remission since January. His strength is inspiring.
I've done this ride twice before, 2006 and 2007, then went on to help produce and filmed the ride in 2008. I only got involved with the Fireflies Ride because I lost my father to cancer in January 2006 and was invited to ride in his memory by some of the founding fathers of the ride. I was able to use the training and ride to filter my grief and deal with all the confusing emotions and hurt in a physical way; the riders efforts are in aid of Leuka and the journey is both physically and mentally challenge and is undertaken in this spirit with the motto: For those who suffer, We ride.

After 2 years out of the saddle and a sense that I've grown and moved out of my grief after losing my father to cancer and doing the ride as a direct result of that I made my speech to the group. My heart was leaping out of my chest and my breathing became shallower as I couldn't quite catch it. I stood on a wobbly chair they gave us as our platform and I had no idea what I would say. I spoke telling everyone how this year feels a lot like my first year, because my approach and head is in a new place. Yes I’ve done it before but I got carried along with it by the other riders as generous and kind and supportive as they were; I wasn’t in the place I am now, which is settled and clear minded having moved away and chosen to come back on my own merits. Before I was doing the ride for my Dad and now partly I am doing it for me.

Some of the riders told us of their family and friends who are survivors and patients they have seen receive treatments linked to the research we have funded. Some spoke of the people they dedicate their rides to and some speak of those they have lost having dedicated their past rides to them. Olivia said she lost 2 people to cancer in the last 4 rides she has done and that she would stop dedicating rides to people suffering with cancer because it seemed to mean she would loose them. Although there are experienced cyclists here and strong athletic types, its still a huge learning curve and a challenge to master the art of taking care of yourself to be able to last the day and climb and descend the Grand Alps. I look forward to the freedom and invigorating aspect of pushing ourselves to the limit and leaving the Alps with a new found look on life; something we all need to deal with life and death.

Day Two

Day 2 Talloires to Val d'Isere
125km
After a short sleep and a quick breakfast we started the day with a group shot in front of the beautiful Lake at Talloires. I decided to ride with the girls today and stick to a slower pace to not over exert myself. We headed off to the Col de Forclaz which had a pretty scary and sharp profile. I climbed alone and put myself in a mental zone that focused me on achieving this. I expected the worse and soon we are at the top having gone in and out of slumped trances and being in a rhythm with my breathing and pedaling. I’m so pleased I reached the top that I buy a col badge and some cosy alpine slippers from the cafe to mark my conquest. We continue on into the low clouds that seem to be masking all our cols.
We had a gentle ride to the bottom of the Roselend, a magnificent mountain but testing on the legs. There is a lake sitting just before the summit, a welcome stopping place that disappoints as it is not the top of the col. We are riding well and feel we could climb the mountain without stopping for lunch before. It is better to keep the legs moving and the hardest part of the ride is pushing yourself to cycle through the pain; Keeping the muscles working and the blood pumping is better at keeping the pain at bay and stops the muscles seizing up once the body begins to relax. Beaufort, a small town is at the base of Roselend and she engulfs the sky overhead. We spot other red jersey’d flies in the cafes lining the route we are following. It is all too tempting to stop and we are quickly advised not to even think about starting the climb without any lunch. The climb is about 14 km to the lake and the little cafe there might not be open. The risk is too big to miss out on a meal, we are burning over 6000 calories a day and have to constantly eat and top up our fuel otherwise we would grind to a harrowing halt called a bonk. Its a challenge to eat carbohydrates and consume fats and sweets to help with energy burning and levels. Our blood sugar can drop if we aren’t taking on the right energy foods meaning we wouldn’t be functioning very well and risk problems.

After a chocolat chaud and saussison sandwich we start the climb in good spirits, singing eighties songs to while the climb away. We realize we are the last as we pass the slower, big guys who tend to have a very slow pace because of their size. These back runners are not in the mood for chirpy girls; understandably the climb is tough and all your focus goes into pedaling and pushing through the pain. We spin by at medium pace panting in between bursts of song and giggling. The idea is to spin in a lower gear to help push the lactic acid out of the muscles. On the steeper climbs you have to grind the gears and push harder but some gradients mean you use different muscles. This mountain has 3 stages, the evergreen lower part that opens up and becomes more vast and rocky as you enter the plateau with the lake to then start climbing hairpin turns on a sheer rock front into winding rocky roads where it is exposed and windy. At times it is easy to forget where your are and ignore your surroundings. Claire and Tess want to take it in and get photos of the views and poor Mareka feeling nauseous takes it slowly but I feel I must carry on and push on up the mountain alone.
I’ve find my legs quite quickly and ride with my breathe leading me. This is important as I have Asthma and no heart rate monitor. We don’t want to push our bodies into the red zone where we cannot recover from pushing too hard and we don’t want to hold back too much as this sends the body out of sync too. At the lake we greet the support crew with our day bags and put on warmer layers as the temperature changes. It is cold and blustery now, the old familiar white mist moves in and we have our head in the clouds once more. I cycle with Richard, a virgin rider to the top of the col and get to know him and find out about his family. I warn him about preparing yourself mentally for the slog to the end. He describes how exhausted he is and it is only day two. By the end of the day he explained, he has accomplished two days of the hardest thing he ever thinks he will do and now he is ready to go home. With the prospect of six more days and a tired mind and aching body I try to give him encouragement which is exhausting for me too. Suddenly we spot a proud marmot on the road, quietly having a moment. I see it as a good luck symbol and we push on. We were so happy to reach to top!


In the cold we descend 26 km to Bourg St Maurice for a baguette and coke with salt in it to help rebalance the salts and sugars we have lost. We leave in a peloton and push on to the last long drag and climb of the day, I loose myself and have no energy so pull over before I fall over on the main road. The traffic is busy and the energy of the other riders whirl around me. My head is woozy and as I stopped I couldn’t get my cleat out of the pedal, almost falling over. I know this is a sign of bonking. I fill up on sweets ad food that I really don’t want and get handed a lollipop by Adrian; His trick is to suck on it and slowly have the sugars pick you up as you ride. Jake and Adrian want to cycle with me to make sure I make it back safely. We carry on slowly and then the skies open and the rain comes down. Stopping for rain jackets, I use my Asthma inhaler. I feel a little energized from it and a bit more a wake. We pedal slowly up the long, steady mountain road that leads to Val d’Isere. It takes a long time and I can now manage conversation. The light changes as the rain clears and we are left with a magnificent and fresh evening. As we ascend the chill in the air gets stronger. I realize I have a puncture and Jake jumps in to change the inner tube over. Thankfully I have comrades to take care of me.
My chips are down and I need all the help I can get. Finally we reach some tunnels which scare the shit out of us. We were warned to take care through them and our support vans are going to lead us through but we are very far behind the others now and the vans are ahead. The cars and trucks howl past, the wind reverberation shakes us and in our tired states scare us. Woody, our support driver from Panavision leads us through in his van safely. After a long, long day I reach Val d’Isere and it is a ghost town, surrounded by fresh, alpine meadows, closed chalets and blanketed in off-peak bleakness. The mountains surround the famous ski town as a soft music whistles through the town and empty ski shops and complexes that lines the road. We make it to the hotel as the light disappears behind the mountains. Washing, dinner and bed. A very welcome break.

Day One - With Meaning

Day 1 Evian to Talloires
183km
‘I’m here to die a little and live a lot’ said by Luke Scott in his introduction speech on the eve of our ride. 75 strong, we will eat, sleep and cycle together for the next 9 days. After a brief night trying to rest but only wrestling with anxiety, it begins.
We cycled 183 km today, day one. It was tough. I started strong and it felt good being out on the French Roads heading to the mountains. We started out by Lake Geneva and ended in Talloires by another Lake, Lake Annecy; Beautiful. Managed to find a good rhythm and my legs this morning and cycled up front with Paul from Austin, Texas, an old friend from past rides and then found Alan, a rider from London. We realised that there is something about this experience you can’t quite get your head around. We spend 10 days together a year, some people are new and some returning yet you have this strange bond develop from the first night. Alan said ‘it goes beyond friends, its like family.’ Part of the reason we are so close without really knowing one another is the group dynamic and the reasons we are here.
We spent about 10 hours on the bikes today and climbed two cols (col is a path crossing mountain chains from lowest to highest point) passing through the clouds. I'm not sure if the clouds are low or if we are high. The weather was on our side - overcast and a gentle breeze - a blessing as I can't deal with the heat and it can get hot! I found it liberating and a pleasure at times to cycle in this alpine environment. I also spent a great deal of time struggling. I ended up on my own where you have to listen to your body and breathing and not push yourself beyond your limits. I question myself and want to give up at difficult ascents towards the top of the cols. I realised that I could only focus on the ground directly in front of me. I had tunnel vision and concentrated on overcoming the logical and self-doubt messages my brain was sending me. You spend a lot of time engaged in a mental battle to keep going. Its not easy when you are hot, tired and in pain, struggling to push on. The end is never near enough and there is only whats inside you motivating you. Of course you remember the money and support your sponsors have given you and at the most difficult times your thoughts jump between desires such as cups of tea, a comforting hug or lie down and to those you have seen or been told about suffering with this awful disease.






The riders here are all people that have come together to create this force. We are a Tour de Force. We have to believe it to help us up all those mountains. The pain and tiredness can be overwhelming and you try your best to cycle through it or some stop and get back some sensation of normality before continuing. I've learnt its best to cycle through it, just keep going and eventually your mind wonders and you feel something else but the biggest challenge is coping with the fatigue, sore muscles and lagging feelings when it takes hours to reach the top of the col. Sometimes you can see where you are heading for miles and it gets very frustrating to not feel any closer. Time marches on and the climbing is never-ending. Colombiere is like this but today we had low clouds that engulfed the top of the col so we cycled in a grim cloudy mist that felt cold and went on and on and on. I thought it would go on forever and I was definitely ready to give up, despairing on my own as I didn't quite believe I had reached the top.
Your body and mind throbs from exhaustion and your senses only come back to you after a recovery concoction of coca cola and salt and a sit down and do nothing in the warm for a while.

I had a broad spectrum of emotions today and spent a lot of time trying to avoid running low on energy however I reached periods of being so tired that I was a bit delirious and ended up in a trance nearly falling into the mountain as I was startled when a line of cars streamed pass me. I battle with bad thoughts and wipe away tears, I get hugs and replenish my energy with food and drink. I then am terrified on the descents, its technical and my bike is bloody fast. People hit speeds of 20-50mph descending on wheels thinner than half an inch in width. Skillfully and gracefully they float down the mountain, I do the same at slower speeds that contain my panic as I get to know my new bike and my hands ache and loose sensation because I have to break so hard.

Today I achieved something amazing and I’ve heard about tomorrow which I’m terrified of just how tough it will be. I want this to be over and I want some home comforts and r and r. I made some fantastic connections and spoke very openly and deeply about cancer and life with my fireflies comrades today. We know why we’re here and we need your help. We are totally exposed out here. Nothing to hide behind. We get to know each other without the pretense of our structured and formal lives at home. Its something else when you get to know and see people as they really are because you are exposed to such a tough challenge that what you go through emotionally and physically and the way you respond shines through, you can't mask it because it just happens. We let down our defenses and ride together with our reasons in this life changing experience. This is us, fit and healthy, dying a little and living a lot - lets do more to keep it that way.

Send-Off at Golden Sq

Friday 11th June
What an evening. This dark, gloomy un-summery day with cloudy skies suddenly opens up at about 5 o'clock and the sun dances through glazing the fireflies and their guests in Soho's Golden Sq. The tone of the evening is set, not only is it a gorgeous Friday night but there is a wave of energy that has built, ready to propel us through the Alps. This event happens every year on the Friday before departure to wish the riders well on their adventure. Traditionally riders meet at the Catherine Lewis Centre at Hammersmith Hospital to see where the funds raised will be going, reacquainting us with the reason why we're here and doing this. A photo at the Hospital with the staff and patients marks the beginning of what unfolds and grows within these new groups of people each year to become the ride. Brought together by the hospital visit and convoy across London, the comradery grows. We receive our jerseys and display them proudly, they become our uniform and our armor.

We infiltrate Soho and march on our bicycles through Beak Street and onto Golden Sq to a warm welcome. The light is beautiful, I take photographs and run out of film!!! The music and voices travel across the soft, evening air and the buzz of the flies converges into the Soho backdrop. It's so wonderful to share this with our friends and colleagues and supporters, as we cheers to the donations and gather for Charlie's speech. He needs no microphone but this time he has one and he launches into a dynamic unfolding of the tongue, spewing out the who's and hows and what for's and whys. His passion is engaging and I watch the virgin riders soak in the environment and battle with the overwhelming feeling that they are really here and will really be cycling over all those mountains. We are on display and representing what has become the fireflies ride, we shout and cheer and drink. I catch up with old friends that I am so happy to see but am not left to concentrate on one conversation, it is so busy that everybody is crossing paths and chatting, getting involved and catching up. I've seen riders who helped me in my first year that I haven't seen since. Mat taught me to use my gears. Aaron's life changed so dramatically after his times on the ride. Zak was a fantastic rider. Kate I trained with. It's wonderful, I have a past with them, having shared the experience. We might be a very small part of each others pasts but we are all very prominent in one another's memories. You can't go through something like this and not make a real connection with everyone you are with.
This year is the tenth year of the ride and I've been involved for the past four years. Having first ridden during the last world cup, I have a sense of deja-vu but also a realisation that I'm back, after a break from cycling for two years and that I would rather be nowhere else. This feels like the first time again. I've chosen to get myself back here and begin to understand something about myself, that perhaps I've moved out of my grief. I started the ride five months, coincidentally to the day, after we lost my father to cancer of the oesophagus. During that time riding was like my therapy but in a very convoluted way. I associated the pain in the training with the suffering I had seen in him; for me that connection was my neutraliser. I think I've spent the last four years processing all of that and now I'm back, almost where I started. I cannot wait the return to the Alps - they are calling and I think it might be a spiritual awakening or maybe a retuning.
Cancer is evil and this grueling challenge is our way of fighting back. We all pay our own rider's fees (almost £1500) and commit to raising £2000 each for Leuka. I'd like you to donate and feel inspired.
Please read my daily updates as I would hope for you to gain an insight into what it is like for someone who rides for a cause. I like the train and cars and comfy seats but I've found a new way to help my life and do something I still can't quite get my head around. This one is for Dad.