What I do when Banz rides up mountains....

I've been relatively quiet on the blog front since the start of the Big Trip, which those of you who know me, may well find surprising....

Of course I've been sharing the daily adventure and logistical necessities with Banz. From sending him out each morning in search of croissants, to telling him where I exactly want the tent positioned (usually as far as possible from where he has dumped all his panniers on the ground, whilst I leave mine stealthily attached to my bike and just wheel them to the new location), the struggles and rewards are generally shared between us. That is, except for the masochistic world of hill climbing.

As our mate Spence asked, "What does Vic do while you're off doing your Julie Andrews impression??".

Obviously this impression is totally at odds with Banz's, who hopes to run into Tyler Hamilton in a bar one day and be able to say, "That Mt Ventoux eh?"

For his two big mountain rides that have been described here, I've been more than content to either indulge myself in the girly pastimes of either shopping (Mt Ventoux Day) or improving my tan (Corsica nightmare ride day). By the way, the tan on my legs is fantastic and obviously gets better each day I ride.

Don't get me wrong, the satisfaction of reaching the top of a hard climb and surveying all below you and knowing you got here under your own steam (as well as lugging four excess novels knicked from the book exchange at the last campsite) is a fantastic feeling. The downhill section which lasts for approximately one fifth of the length of the uphill is also brilliant as well as seeing the speeds which your computer would have no hope of registering under normal circumstances.

It's just that well, climbing for the sake of climbing seems a bit silly to me.

I don't want to start sounding like a girly girl who doesn't understand the offside rule and so thinks football is stupid, but the whole thing of climbing these hills just strikes me as pointless. Nobody could've been prouder of Banz than I was after his successful Mt Ventoux ride, and, in a weird sort of way I was prouder of him after his unsuccessful day in the mountains in Corsica, and I'm more than happy at shout at him, "GET ON THE PEDALS!!!" as he heads off, its just not for me.

I'll ride up hills - but only if they're in my way.....