How not to do the Cyclotour du Léman

Cyclotour du Léman: a beginner’s nightmare or the adventure of a lifetime? Lillie went through hell when she took part for the first time in 2008. Flat tires, loneliness, hunger pains and ruthless pelotons… Discover her misadventures and the lessons she learned to make your Tour of Lake Geneva a success!

An oversized vest, a crooked helmet and a grin that expresses both iron will and sheer fear: Lillie was like many newcomers to the Cyclotour du Léman when she took part for the first time in 2008.

In this article, she tells us all about her mistakes so that you can avoid them! Above all, she makes us think about how we welcome beginners into the cycling community.

I arrived in Switzerland in the spring of 2008. I lived near Rolle and saw the beautiful body of water that is Lake Geneva every day. It was both inspiring and intimidating. From the heights of Rolle, it was impossible to see where the lake ended on either side, but the adventurer in me was eager to explore all that this majestic lake had to offer.

Like any newcomer to the area, I was looking for fun things to do with like-minded people. And as a cyclist, the idea of touring Lake Geneva was very appealing. That’s when I saw an advert for the Cyclotour: I was quick to sign up. The only problem was that my bike was still in transit with the rest of my stuff from England. When my bike finally arrived, I only had two weeks left to train.

This is where my naive and over-optimistic Californian experience collided with Swiss reality. Of course, cyclos in the USA were full of competitive cyclists. But there were also plenty of people like me who were simply there for the challenge and the camaraderie.

In California, I’d taken part in several “centuries” (100 miles, or 160 kilometers) and had fond memories of the groups at my level, the many refreshment stops and the new friends. So I wasn’t too concerned about my fitness. I figured I’d easily find a group, hang on to their wheels and enjoy a great day’s cycling. I’d learned to ride in a big cycling club in San Diego and was comfortable riding in a group. But I was totally unprepared for what was going to happen that day… Judge for yourself!

I arrive on my bike and, a few minutes before the start… I flat! Damn. But I’ve got 2 inner tubes with me and all the tools I need, so I’m not too bad off. Still, I’m surprised that nobody stops to help me. In California, a young woman in distress would NEVER be left alone. So I find myself panicking as I watch hundreds of people pass me by. Oh my god, I’m going to miss all the pelotons!

In my haste, as I was inflating the new inner tube, I torqued the valve and “pop”, it flew off. NOOOOOO. Frustrated, I almost threw my bike on the ground, knowing I’ll have to start all over again. Quick, concentrate, change the f’in inner tube, Lillie. It’s a good thing you still have a spare!
Finally, I get out of this mess and get to the start line to see that almost everyone’s gone. Well, it’s going to be a LONG day on the bike. But hey. At least I’ll be discovering the part of the lake I hadn’t seen before!

As I cycle along the lake between Lutry and Vevey, several large groups overtake me. Well, it’s still possible to keep up with a group. Phew! I sprint back to the rear of a group of about twenty cyclists. My heart rate slowly drops and I realize that I can keep up with them without any problem. I’m saved, woohoo.

Then comes the second, even worse shock. Somehow, some people in this group get offended that I’m following them, and they try to drop me. WTF? Finally, a guy ostentatiously blows his nose right in front of me and I drop myself off the back in disgust. Well, I guess I’m on my own again. Only 160 km to go…

My first view of the Chablais region, where I now live.

Finally, I reach the end of the lake at Villeneuve and arrive near the ravito at Saint-Gingolph. I’m delighted to be so close to the French border, and I feel I’ve done a good job so far. I’ve got everything I need for mechanical problems and temperature variations during the day, but I’ve only got a minimum of food. Because that’s one of the reasons why I take part in a cyclosportive… the feed stations.

Third shock of the day… there’s nothing left! Or almost: I have a choice between sugar cubes and orange slices. Neither of them seem very appealing, so I gobble up the last energy bar I have in my pocket. Okay, where’s the next stop? Evian, I’m told. OK, now I just have to get to Evian. Only 20 km to go. I can do it!

Evian is gone, and I haven’t seen the food stop. I then pass Thonon, and still no food. My speed is dropping and there are now fewer and fewer participants in sight on my endless journey around the lake. Where the hell is that ravito? Turn after turn, I hope to see a stand, but to no avail. I give up. I stop on the side of the road and almost cry out in despair. Another cyclist sees me and stops. “Do you need help?” “Yes…, thank you, do you have anything to eat?”

She hands me a cookie and tells me she thinks we’re close to the refreshment point. So I get back on my bike and accompany her to the next bend. Victory!!!

There’s lots of food, bread and cheese, sliced sausages, nuts and fruit. I’m over the moon. This food stop is great. I’m swallowing everything I can and I’m finally starting to feel normal. There are about 10 other cyclists, but I don’t see many more coming up behind me. But there is… the broom wagon!

NOOOOO!!! 4th shock of the day. I’ve never been in front of the broom wagon before. This is one of my worst days on the bike. At least the other participants are all friendly and 6 of us decide to form a small group to carry on.

After about 30 minutes on the bike, I realize that I won’t recover from my bonking… New goal is, now, just to Geneva! Another cyclist, soon to become one of my best friends, tells me that he too has had enough. Geneva finally arrives and we decide to stop. After 120 km, my new friend Kevin and I climb into the broom wagon and spend 4 hours getting to know each other, while the bus drives us slowly towards the finish, behind the last participants.

So much for my beginner’s misadventures in Switzerland. Let’s be clear: I don’t blame Cyclotour for my bad experience. But I do blame my own naivety about the level of cycling in Switzerland and the difficulty of making friends in this new country.

In fact, I couldn’t wait to do the Cyclotour again. And a year later, Kevin and I, fitter and better prepared, reached the finish. And the following year too.

I learned a lot from my failures that day and I’m sharing my experience with you, so that you too won’t be defeated by what is, without doubt, an epic challenge!

This article is about an event that took place in 2008. Since then, attitudes have changed and, generally speaking, the cycling community is less elitist than it used to be. However, there’s still a long way to go to ensure that beginners feel welcome by everyone, at all times. Let’s keep that in mind!