We had some minor bike maintenance done on Tuesday. I got new bar tape, Susana got new derailleur cable housing. We had the work done at Liberty Cycles in Bagnéres de Luchon, “specializing in every kind of bicycle.” Gérard, the mechanic and owner seems to be well connected to the local racing scene from his stories and paraphenelia hanging on the walls, such as a signed jersey from Miguel Indurain, and a photo with he and LeBlanc, the outgoing Tour de France president.

He wasn’t a very fast mechanic, often being interrupted by a cutomer with a purchase or stopping to tell us a story as he worked. But he gave us a scrapbook to look at with years of Tour de France memorabilia as it usually passes through the town, and his stories and perfection on the wrench made it well worth the wait.

We talked a lot about doping. He said substances were widely available from the junior level on up. It was sometimes the trainer pushing banned substances on their athletes and sometimes up to the rider if they wanted to indulge. He said it was easy to tell if a rider was using, since it also affects their head, like recreational drugs, and their technique would be affected — not riding as aerodynamically or drafting as much, shifting at the wrong moments, etc, since they’re not using their own power. He also said that the biggest losers are cyclists who dope and don’t win races.

I asked him about our climb for the day, Col du Peyresourde. Whenever we ask someone about a climb, we only get one kind of answer. “It’s hard,” or “tough” or “steep”. But he said, “it’s not too easy, not too hard.” I appreciated his honesty — it was hard, but not the hardest we’ve done.

Wednesday morning had us leaving Arreau for Col d’Aspin and later, Col du Tourmalet, the most notable pass in the Pyrenees. The day started like a winter day in Seattle with fits of drizzle and mostly cloudy and cold. I thought I was riding well on Col d’Aspin (1489 m, 4885’) until I got passed by a nine year old on a miniature racing bike.

The skies opened up and the views were impressive at the top. Not too many long steep sections here. Next was Tourmalet.

Tourmalet literally means “bad route”. At 2119 m (6952’), it climbs more than 1200 m (4000’) from the westbound side. It was first known to be used as a passage in the 11th century. In 1675 it was purchased by the Duke of Maine so he could build a proper road for his entourage to take him to the thermal springs in Bargéres, and his road was completed in 1688. It has also been crossed by Napoleon, and continues to be climbed by thousands of cyclists every year.

Like Col d’Aspin, the mountains around Col du Tourmalet are completely bare — they were clearcut 400 years ago to build ships for France and Spain during years of navel escalation and never replanted. Instead of bears, birds, and other wildlife, the mountains are now just used as grazing land for cows and feral horses, a tragedy for the coming generations. But in 400 years things haven’t really changed that much.

Our climbing of Tourmalet was slow and steady, with the confidence of many other passes now behind us. But it was still hard. It was a relief to see a sign for the upcoming switchback that read only 8%, to give a little rest from those that were steeper. Obviously the paint on the road from past Tours lasts a long time, as we saw a lot of slogans for Tyler Hamilton, the American cyclist banned from the sport for an illegal blood transfusion two years ago.

Unlike most French mountain passes we’ve ridden that start out steep and get a little easier, this one is the steepest at the top. This climb was comparable to Alpe d’Huez, and the experience was probably much like it would have been with our full panniers. We made it to the top and zoomed down the rough road on the other side.

We still had a little more daylight and some energy left in our legs, so we continued past our planned stopping point on to the next climb, Col du Bordéres, to push ourselves to the limit just once.

And we succeeded. Ending the day with 2935 meters (9629’) of ascent and eight hours in the saddle (plus breaks), we scarfed down Morocan food with legs a-blaze, having done as much climbing as the hardest stages in the Tour de France.

Thursday was another famous climb, up the Col d’Aubisque, but from this direction it was just another hill beyond the Col du Solour. There were many antique cars escorted by dozens of police cars and police motorcycles as we rode up, with people out on the road watching everything go by. Soon after one large wave of motorcycles came there was some silence before a lone cyclist emerged and came flying down the road with a team car following. And then a few more cyclists and more team cars. We soon realized it was the Tour de Pyrenees, which we’d seen flyers for previously. There were jerseys for Rabobank, Quickstep, and Codifis, but I assume it was their B-teams. Regardless, nothing like stumbling upon a bike race to break up a climb.

A few more passes today have gotten us to Licq, in the French Basque region of the Pyrenees, not far from the Atlantic Ocean. Some older people here still speak Basque, a language completely unrelated to any other European language, but quickly dying with new generations. Tomorrow we’ll leave the Raid Pyrénéan route and enter Spain with our last French climb, the Port de Larrau. And of course, one person we talked to described it as “steep”.