Cameroon stage 1

Cameroon Stage 1

For results: http://www.cyclingnews.com/protour_oct07.php?id=road/2007/oct07/chantalbiya07/default

For photos: http://webphotos.aol.fr/galleries/jetlagsports@neuf.fr/

(click on pics for larger image)

Breakfast this morning was at 6am. Not my favorite time of the day. As we got up and went downstairs to the restaurant for yet another very week breakfast, we still didn’t know what time the start was for today’s stage. We knew it start in Yaounde (the town we were in), but had no actual information. With such an early breakfast, we could only assume an early start. Actually we didn’t even know the distance. Over breakfast, Fabien Ray from AVC Aix-Harbo Cofidis (who won the last stage last year) said he had heard they had changed the distance (something that often happens in African races apparently) from 130km to 180km… he also said that in Africa, 180km would be about 200 real km. So we felt pretty confused by the time we were tucking into our breakfast of champs, plain bread with nothing on it… and very little of it for that matter.

Our DS had a DS meeting that morning, so after breakfast we went to our rooms and wait for info… it eventually came. Turns out the stage was to be 138km, and we weren’t leaving from Yaounde, we had a transfer of 100km to do before the start. We were to be down in the parking lot with bikes and bags at 8am. So we packed our bags etc, and went down to the parking lot for 8am. The race start was at 10 am in Ngolbang. After much waiting around, our team cars finally showed up. The team cars were private cars… people with cars were being paid by the organizers for the use of their cars… only they were driving. So the caravan was to be nothing but inexperienced drivers who know nothing about cycling and rules of the caravan… great.

Our bikes were to be shoved onto a couple of big army flat-beds. How we were getting to the start we had no idea. With only 1 car per team there was not enough room. At the time we were all supposed to be leaving, the truck drivers emerged and got in their trucks… spent about 30 mins maneuvering out of a jam packed parking lot full of cars, bikes, bags and riders, and they drove off into the city… where were they off to? The bikes weren’t loaded or anything. They were going to get gas. They had been parked there since last night, but were NOW going to get gas, at out supposed time of departure.

Once the trucks returned, bikes started to get loaded onto of mini-buses (no bike racks) and thrown into the back of the trucks. Most of the riders disappeared into the hotel to get bike bags and boxes to try and protect the bikes, as they were getting scratched and shuved like you wouldn’t believe. In fact one minivan actually drove over 3 of AVC Ais-Haribo Cofidis' bikes while trying work his way thorugh the parking lot... that got everyone excited!

There was a LOT of waiting around going on...

Eventually all the riders pilled onto this absolutely shocking bus. We just about fit. Try to get our luggage in the holds under the bus was fun, as the doors didn’t close, and the floor was totally rusted through. Everyone pulled out of the hotel 30 mins before the supposed start of the race. We drove through the town for about 3 or 4 mins, then stopped. Everyone looked around. Someone said we all had to get off and get onto a different bus. Obviously thinking they were joking, it took a while before we all got off, got our bags, took 2 steps over to the other bus. Now admittedly the new bus was in much much better shape. The windscreen may have been so cracked you could hardly see through it, it was way better that the first. However, it was much much smaller and there weren’t enough seats for all the riders. Great. So I ended up standing in the door-well, getting overheated by the engine right next to me. I also got really tired and car sick… it was one of the worst trips ever.

The first bus (seen here) was a shocker, the 2nd bus was better but the trip was still pretty bad.

Eventually we got to the start town 2 hours after the race was supposed to have started. We hadn’t eaten for 6 hours, and that had only been 2 slices of plain bread. Just to add insult to injury, as we got off the bus, got our bags, got our bikes and found our team car to try and get changed and ready, the organizers were running around blowing whistles at us and yelling at us to hurry up, “the start is in 10 mintues”. Well… bugger that! We were more than 2 hours late, underfed and badly transported, we were not in any hurry what so ever.

We got changed and got on our bikes. Starving hungry and feeling pretty car-sick. With 138km of a UCI race ahead of us, things were not looking good for some of us. Scott Chalmers and myself rode around looking for anyone with something to eat. A few locals had arms full of bananas they had picked from nearby trees; but by the team the riders go to them, they were almost all gone. That’s about the time we realized it was actually a hot day. We hadn’t had anything to drink in the bus, either because we didn’t have anything, or because we felt too sick. Yes, this was an adventure.

The Race:

Finally we were off. This is what we had come for. Real racing, point to point in a new and exciting country. Although for a few of us, (myself included) our motivation was well down in the dumps on the start line, after just a few pedal strokes, the past for forgotten and we got into the rythme and pleasure of riding and racing. It felt great. It had been a fair while since I had done a truly international race. The French peleton is always very international, but everyone in France races “French style” and you pretty much know what’s coming. I’ve raced in the US fairly recently, but although that is fun and different for me, it is far from international. I guess the last real international events I did were back in 2004. There’s no better feeling that knowing you are racing in a field the represents most of the 4 corners of the world. What’s more, this field also had plently of African riders, a pleasure we rarely get. It is rare to see that many African teams outside of Africa. What does that mean and why was I so happy about that? Because it is different, new, and adds a truly exotic element to the race. It also means a more varied and unpredictable style of racing.

As it turned out most of from Castelsarrasin where feeling really strange. As I have already said a bunch of us were feeling pretty rough from vaccinations, most of us had also not really ridden all week, then there was the flight and the fact that we hadn’t really ridden since being in Cameroon. None of us could figure out what was going on. We didn’t know if we felt good or not. The legs felt heavy, the lungs felt strange, but yet we weren’t really struggling.

As things got going, the attacks came thick and fast very early on. The only truce came a few kms into the race where a big crash took down a fair few riders. Everyone called a general time out as we waited to make sure everyone was ok and back in the race. Our New Zealander Scott narrowly missed hitting the ground by taking his bike through the jungle. Scott, always a cheerful and jokey chap, had a good laugh telling us about his narrow escape and little jungle-biking escapade.
Once everyone was back the action took over again and we were all in the hurt-box. We had to be in every break… and we were, until a break with 6 or 7 riders went up the road and we weren’t in it. I remember thinking: “shit I hope our DS isn’t getting this info over race radio and cursing us for missing it.” As it turns out, that is the ONLY piece of info they got over race radio… so he never heard about us being in the race winning move, but heard all about us missing that 1 break. Oh well.

That break came back pretty quickly, and it wasn’t long before the peloton was starting to split apart on the repetitive climbs. I spent a little bit of time off the front, and it wasn’t long before a large group came up to us from the peloton. In this group was Scotty Lyttle. They went off the front and we were getting dropped pretty quickly. After a while I bridged back up to Scotty’s group. I think there about 5 or 6 of us at that stage. I was feeling pretty buggered. Scott wasn’t feeling great either. Seeing as Scott was in that move, I got myself to the front and started working as best I could, hoping to keep the group away and have Scotty in a good position. After my own recent results I was feeling pretty confident myself. Sadly things split up again a few km down the road and I was shot out the back of the group. Scotty however was still there going strong. Then the peleton split behind us, a large group went up the road, goodness knows what actually happened, it was chaos. All I know is that when it came down to it. Scotty was off the front in a good 14 (ish) man group with a couple of Unibet guys, a very strong Peter Van-Agtmaal etc etc. Then there was a group of about 20, that we shall call the peleton, then a group that we’ll call the Groupetto. This is where I was, along with my trusty teammates, James Spragg, Scott Chalmers and Adrien Calatayud. Richard Brunet was having a great ride and was up in the 2nd group on the road not far behind Scotty.

We ended up about 15 mins behind the leaders, and rode through the Cameroon countryside joking, having fun and enjoying the scenery. We had to have a few harsh words with some of the guys in the Groupetto… we proud ourselves on being the rulers of the Groupetto. A few guys were riding a little too hard on the front, and were stringing us out, and some of the African riders were getting dropped. That isn’t the point of the Groupetto. The point of the Groupetto is that there is safety in numbers, and that if we all stick together we can make it through the stage and be in good enough shape to fight another day. Eventually we had to put 2 or 3 of us on the front and set the pace. Our yelling didn’t pay off, so we went up to dictate the pace… nice and slow. Come the finish a few riders starting attacking… we have NO idea why, we were 15 minutes behind the leaders and had nothing to fight for. The UCI points didn’t go that deep, so that pissed us off a little bit, but whatever. It was a good ride. The crowds were unbelievable as we went though towns. They were 4 or 5 rows deep in town, and there were people all the way along the course. Even out in the middle of nowhere, people would emerge out of the jungle and cheer us on. It was really interesting and moving to see everyone go crazy every time they saw a Cermoon National rider. People on the side of the road would yell out “where are the black riders, we want to see more black riders.” Some guys would stand there with a stick, piece of bamboo or massive machete and point out all the black riders as we rode past. You really got an impression of what national pride, and history means to the Cameroon people. It was all a very good life experience.
Some people on the side of the road picked bananas and handed them to us. How refreshing is that! There is such an abundance of bananas over there, that spectators can litteraly just turn-around, pick them and give you a feed. I remember at one point seeing a Cameroon National ride in front of me take a banana from a spectator… he already had 7 bananas in his back pocket.
The finish of the stage was hilly, with 5 or 6 good hills before finishing up a 7% climb to the finish line. Scotty, up front, found himself in a leading group of about 5 or so riders. He got dropped 3 or 4 times on the final hills, but made his way back into the group each time. Come the finish he was monstrous. Peter Van-Agtmaal of the Netherlands rode of for solo victory (also taking the best sprinter and best climber!!!!), Julien Gonnet (a frequent participant of African UCI races) took 2nd. Third over the line was actually a German rider, who was quickly disqualified, as he bridged up to the leader break by hanging onto his team car. Scotty had ridden away from everyone else and, with the German’s disqualification, Scotty was 3rd, and was also best young ride. A very good and Solid day for Scotty and for the team.

The podium was a standard procedure… except for the Cameroon army who were there as security because of all the ministers and big-wigs present. The numerous press were trying to get photos of the podium procession, but the Army didn’t like it and tried to push them back… it wasn’t long before the truncheons came out and a nasty looking fight very nearly erupted… it was stopped by a member of the organizing comity who broke them up saying “we can’t have this here and now!” I can only wonder what it would have been like if there hadn’t been so many Europeans present.
Back to sweat it out in the bus to our hotel for the night.

The podium was held inside a gated and secured complex. Even us riders had to have passes to get in. After the podium we all had a good feed, but on in the local government building/town hall. Then it was back into the wonderful busses (where I actually got a seat this time) to sweat our lives away on the hot and muggy drive to that night’s hotel in Sangmelima, birthplace of the Cameroon president Mister Paul Biya.

Shit that's a long post...