Post #2 -This Ain't Peggy Fleming's Grenoble

From Geneva, our trip took a turn South, to Grenoble. On the way, we stopped in Annecy for lunch. Doc ate bone marrow ravioli. Gross, right? It was a cool town, but this post is all Grenoble, so don't distract ME. Before we get into any personal details of our Grenoble experience, let's look at some fun facts about the city itself! (thanks Wikipedia!!)

Little did we know that the venerable city of Grenoble (population 150,000 non-bathing residents) dates back to 43BC. Named Gratianopolis, after a Roman Emperor in 381AD, the name eventually evolved into Grenoble, likely because no one understands a damn thing the French say. Come on, get those marbles out of your mouth already!

The Bastille is one of the main tourist attractions of the storied city of Grenoble is the Bastille. For those unaware, The Bastille is the name of a fortress culminating at 476 m (1,561ft) above sea level, at the south end of the Chartreuse mountain range, overlooking the city of Grenoble, France. You may not remember that the Bastille was the longtime home of the man in the iron mask. It made a somewhat inhospitable residence for Phillipe, lacking many of the basic staples of modern comfort. Phillipe, for those that did not read Alexandre Dumas' masterpiece, was the twin brother of King Louis. Phillipe was royalty, slumming against his will in a backwater Grenoble dive.

So let's talk about our Hotel. The Hotel Royal.

Seriously. I am not making this stuff up. Much like Phillipe, our royal crew did some serious non-consensual slumming in historic, venerated Grenoble.

Is that Branford in your pocket, or are you just happy to see ME?

We had to stay in Grenoble only because of the tunnel on D1091. For more details, see the link below. In summary, our plan to stay in Briancon as an easy connection to Alpe d'Huez blew up like Oprah at a fish fry, as a result of some dodgy French engineering. The tunnel collapse meant we had to re-route our commute. What was originally a 90 minute drive became a white knuckle switchback-ridden 3 hour tour. Solution? Stay a night in a low budget Grenoble hotel, hit L'Alpe the next day, then directly on to our style pad in idyllic Briancon*. My lovely bride searched for and found a place that looked acceptable. So we booked it. conveniently located next to a fine restaurant, Le Coq Noir. The peoples were not happy.

Why? Well, let's just say free range air conditioning and Le Coq Noir played pivotal roles in the overall downward groupthink spiral. NO A/C?? Blasphemy to Texans/Badgers and the Pennsylvania Dutch alike! Next to Le Coq Noir?? (did you know that means Black Cock?) Well, Black Rooster. But you are following me. Oh, and the elevator was the size of a large dumbwaiter. One person and a carryon bag. And some faith in mankind. Still, we made the best of it. The guy working the front desk was a massive hulk of friendliness***. Seriously nice guy, with very friendly service. Just remember that as an offset to Le Coq Noir.

Late that afternoon, we assembled the bikes in the lobby for a little shakeout ride. Fueled by some Heineken and pre-Alpe angst, we hit the road for a 15 mile tour of not-so-GreatNoble. When I say hit the road, it's an unfortunately literal description for the Ticket. As we wrapped up the spin, which included some tense traffic interactions, Gypsy dwelling drivebys and a spritzer of French rain, Big man lodged his tire in a drainage grid, going slo-mo endo. Damaging his already shoddy hip, his knee, his ego, and most importantly his big ring shifter. Less than 24 hours from the Alpe Assault and we had a game changing mechanical. [LOW POINT OF TRIP].

Less than a km** from the Royal, we coasted home in very low spirits.

While fully bummed, the group had to eat. Toni saved the night through deft use of Yelp. She suggested a Thai place called Mei Shan. we dragged ass over there, tired, bummed and HONGRY. This place was the shining jewel of the G-Noble experience!! The owner doted on us, much to the chagrin of some of his French customers. The food was fabulous, and the Côtes du Rhône was both delicious and unbelievably affordable. We totally blended in to the scene. No one even suspected we were American. Despite the crash and the accommodations, excitement remained over the Alpe Assault.

Sleeping that night would have been tough even in the most ideal conditions. Nothing ideal about these conditions, ladies and gents. windows open created a slight breeze, but also let every drunk hobo's voice into the room. The doc slept with his door open, at the Gay Friendly Hotel Royal. It was that bad. With maybe 3 hours of sleep, we arose to an "American Breakfast" and a chance to showcase our packing skills. Once packed, we headed to Borg d'Oissans to get Tick's bike all fixed, and to take care of some BUSINESS!!

The city sleeps, but not ME

Link to the Broken Link-

http://www.cyclechat.net/threads/grenoble-to-brian%C3%A7on-d1091-closed.182525/


Mei Shan - it's that good!!
http://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/mei-shan-grenoble?select=IxgmW2nDlq_D0DMJS3rIjA#iBGjqHUYvdEhZsW0Kz7J7A

FOOTNOTES ARE MY FAVORITE!!

* we aren't going back to Grenoble!! This is the first I am hearing of this!!!! - Yeti (while in Mr Hyde mode)

**I am a fan of the metric system. No, I am not a communist.

*** Perhaps he was a descendant of Jean-Jacques Rousseau(1712–1778) – philosopher and writer, and resident of Grenoble. J-J was the proponent of man as the Noble Savage, and a general fan of nature. He probably liked Heineken.


NEXT UP = = = = ACTUAL BIKE STUFF!!! ASSAULT ON L'ALPE, OR L'ALPE ASSAULTS US.

Post #1 - Geneva is Swiss for "You can't afford to live here"

Fast Forward to Travel Day!

British Airways. Direct flight from ATX to Heathrow. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 6pm, arriving in LHR at 10am, connecting to Geneva at Noon, Queen's Time.

We dutifully arrived at the airport 2 hours early, checked in and hunkered down. Ok, maybe a beer or two was involved. Slowly the crew dragged in to the airport. Last person in was the Doctor. Our group's version of the free radical, the Doc is no slave to schedule. Nor has he ever missed a flight. Just ask him!

Fun fact: when the German gets excited, his blood must run a little thinner. At the airport his nose was packed like a prize fighter in Round 5. We got a bleeder!!

Boarding time! The Brits can pack a flight. Like sardines. No empty seats, and no air conditioning on the tarmac. No big deal, right? Wrong. This is ATX in July. The tarmac made Dante's Ninth Circle look like an Alaskan Spring day. Combine this with a two hour flight delay. Oh, and let me now remind you again about the sardine situation. And unfortunately, some of the passengers smelled like cousins of the canned fish. Europeans and their soap could be better friends.

As to the flight delay - Cap'n British Guy gets on the PA and announces a mechanical delay. For some reason the engines won't start. They are trying to sort it out, and hope to be underway shortly. In the scheme of flight delays, this one is kind of a confidence shaker. International flight, engines are wonky, A/C doesn't work. Are we doing this thing in an airborne version of a British Sterling?*

After aforesaid two hours, Cap'n informs us it's all been sorted out. Apparently the mechanics have some tools purchased at Ollivanders. Off we went. From that point the flight over was flawless. BA service was great, the Cap'n found some soft air. The A/C never really worked, which is more a reflection on the difference between A/C in Ammurica vs the Euro definition.

The two hour delay led to a mad dash through Heathrow. Interestingly, there was a very kind and helpful gate agent that guided us through the maze of that airport. In hindsight, these agents are a must. Without such assistance, passengers would wander through that place in perpetuity. Seriously, I have never witnessed such a labyrinthine shit-show. Anyway, we made our flight.

Arrived in Geneva ON TIME! Bikes didn't.

As we waited in the airport for our payload most precious, we quaffed our first euro espressos, or beer and watched a stage of Le Tour. It was actually on the TV at the bar. So cool to see how the peoples of that area react to cycling. This was the first indication that I may be French.

The team split, with Ullrich and the Big Fella headed to car rental. We had two vans, one seating 7 (VW) and one seating 9 (Ford). Both stick shifts, which is apparently still very popular on that side of the pond. I guess they don't like to eat burgers while driving. A note here on the driving situation. Think Alps, cart path roads, no guard rails, insane euro-drivers, stick shifts, and multiple eager to share back seat drivers. Ullrich and Todd drove the entire time. Those poor bastards did a great job right until the very end of the trip [foreshadowing].

Finally got our bags!! On the the hotel, which was 20 minutes away for about an hour. Toni burned through her monthly data allotment while GPSing this tiny commute. "recalculating"...... Hotel N'Vy was phenomenal. Super cool motif, very helpful front desk. Highly recommend it. Not cheap though. Everything in Geneva is expensive.

Dinner in Switzerland at this cool English pub, where we ate pizza shipped over from the Italian restaurant across the street, while drinking Belgian beer all the while. Menu was in French. Talk about supporting the EuroZone! Food was great. Learned that the Yeti has a thing for spices. Or his tastebuds are all dead. never seen someone consume so much red pepper. The ways of the Yeti are a mystery.

Next Up - One Night in Grenoble, I Know, I Know It's Serious.....


* https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sterling_(marque)

France Pre-Post - - Stuff Worth Blogging About, Finally!-

Oh endearing public. I know I have forsaken you for oh so long. As you have pined for new posts documenting the flagrant mediocrity of our ragtag bunch, life's demands (and the evaporation of my mind's ink) have let this blog grow stale.

Well, buckle up. I finally have some stuff to write about. A trip so damn awesome that it will take ME about 5 posts to whip out some entertainment on y'all.

What event could be so awesome as to inspire multiple blogasms?

Damn sure not some crazy Everesting scenario, where I rode around in a hilly circle, doing a two-wheeled Sisyphus reenactment. Nope, that wouldn't WHIP me into a frenzy, on neither bike nor blog.

It's not talking racing strategy, or the latest crossfit WOD* at the Box**. Those things are lost on ME, And everyone else that wants their kidneys to stay INSIDE their bodies.

It's France. As in LeTour. And some climbs therein. If that doesn't turn your crank, then you are not welcome to read further. Please close this page and consider yourself uninvited to future entertainment. Good day, sir! I said Good Day!

Ahhhh. I see you read on. Good.

FRANCE BLOG POST #1 - THE PREPARATION

Nearly a year ago my good buddy Ullrich, with middle age nipping at his psyche, declared "I am going to France. I am going to see the Tour. And I am bringing my bike" Anyone that knows Ullrich is unsurprised at such a declaration. He is a man of bold action, particularly when a plate of sausage and soft cheeses are in front of him. But in this case, there was a glint of resolve in his eye typically present only when he uttered his signature phrase "Have I Ever Told You..."

So the dream of French conquest was seeded by a German with High T and a taste for sausage. No, this isn't a Gay-Hitler fantasy. It's leTour.

Coming off a pretty good year of work, count ME in! The Yeti shortly also jumped on LeTrain. We determined the best way to make this work was a couples trip. Behind every German is a woman holding a frying pan. And that woman wants to go to France too. Sales pitch to the ladies? This is a trip with bikes, not a bike trip. So we were at six. Then the Love Doctor also jumped on board (bachelor-style)! Sadly, our big friend, the Ticket had conflicting plans. Also unsurprising, as his schedule commitments rival the Queen of England. Pomp and circumstance are constant companions of today's high-powered CEO.

The initial biking plan was very high level. Find a kickass place in the French Alps, bring the bikes, watch the Tour at the Alpe d'Huez stage, and climb Alpe d'Huez and as many other iconic climbs as the trip would allow. Let the training commence! Our excellent coach, Jack Cartwright, soaked up the plan, and commenced to punishing us in earnest. Them hills over there are kind of steep, and long. As Kevin Livingston's old coach used to say "You are too fat!!" It was time to lose some weight.

Thoroughly excited about the new challenge, we dove into the training regimen. Time ticked. Pounds stingily dropped. And remarkably, the Ticket's calendar freed up! With a little help from the WHIP, The Ticket also located a sweet style-pad in our targeted home base of Briancon. This town was only a 90 minute drive down D1091 to the base of D'Huez, and a truly great place for touring with the ladies. This means quaint shops, lots of history, great views and great food. So we booked it up, with 9 in the Fellowship of D'Huez. All signs pointed to an excellent trip!!

Tomorrow's Post: The Tunnel Is Out!!

*WOD = Workout of the Day - includes kettlebells, tractor tires and compression socks

** Box = Crossfit garage. Typically a spartan looking, converted storage facility