Class

A long day today, 120+ kilometers and some brutal, brutal (beautiful, beautiful) climbs. Aside from watching stunning landscapes roll on by, I had the pleasure of riding with some real class riders. "Class" in cycling is one of the words that doesn't exactly have a definition, but any and every cyclist wants to be regarded as having "class" on the bike.

(Becky ready for the descent down D'Huez)

(And making her way up the first part of the Croix de Fer)

(Sure wish the scenery was better along they way!)

Becky made it to a little mountain-side town, where the group (and an espresso) was waiting for us.

(Espresso)

(Mountain-side town)

(Espressos out of the way, more cols to come . . . David, our guide and subject of continued thoughts on "Class" is on the left in the blue kit)

The run up to the Croix de Fer was amazing. The climb itself wasn't too bad, a steady grind. And the views seemed to make things go much, much easier.

And, of course, the Coix de Fer was just as stunning.

(Croix de Fer, or Iron Cross, gets its name from somewhere . . . wonder what?)

(Looking out from the top at what's in store next)

Break time!

So, back to "class" and David. I still don't really have a definition, but let me define by example. On our descent from D'Huez, David didn't slow down, he stopped to make sure Becky was ok. When Becky and I arrived in the small mountain-side town (see above) espresso was waiting. When descending Croix de Fer, the guy sat up, no hands and stretched his back out, adjusted his wind vest, cleaned his glasses. This is more impressive if you have descended Croix de Fer. It's a goat path, with cars zooming up, and more switch-backs than you can count. Impressive. Finally, after one hell of a long day, David (he also climbs like bird) turned round on our way up the Telegraph, came back to check on me, and pulled me up for about 9 k. Upon reaching the summit, he said "good job" to me. Class.

After the Telegraph, a small descent to our home for tonight.