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The Pinarello Dogma 2 Professional Road Bike: To Be “Born Again”
About two months ago, I posted this article on the 2011 Pinarello Dogma 60.2. I wrote about its geometry, asymmetric styling and the pleasure of riding one on long uphills and steep descents. Little did I know that, within a few weeks, my comments about the Pinarello Dogma would seem outdated – almost antiquated – by a group of cyclists from Perth, Australia. On a trip with Punto Tours in the French Alps, every one of them was armed with the latest Pinarello creation: the Dogma 2.
However, Pinarello had only released the Dogma 2 not even a few months prior to these lads coming on tour. In fact, I got to handle not one, but thirteen fresh and beautiful high quality carbon-framed bicycles. Over our eight-day adventure through the French and Italian Alps, I had plenty of time to study the geometry of the bike. At first its design seemed unappealing (I’m a traditionalist), but then I began to understand the method to Pinarello’s engineering.
The first feature that caught my eye was the oversized head tube/fork crown combination. Pinarello studied the side-to-side asymmetry in this advanced frame. That asymmetry is still present in the Dogma 2 and is primarily focused on the sprinter and a fast transference of energy to the pedals. In layman’s terms, the right side of the bike is engineered differently than the left side, to account for the bike’s drive train. According to Competitive Cyclist in this post, all of this same research is brought to the Dogma 2, but now Pinarello has modified the front symmetry of the bike to make what is considered, “the most responsive Pinarello race bike ever.” As a result, the head tube is much larger and essentially more aerodynamic, and the fork is much larger at the crown. As I mentioned earlier, this is the most eye-catching feature in the new design since this reinforcement of the front-end allows for an even stiffer ride with a “more predictable braking and a more precise steering feel,” according to Competitive Cyclist.
To increase the aerodynamic characteristic of the frame, all of the cables are threaded internally and the tube junctures have been smoothed out. It is a fantastic machine and pricing it here would be useless. It is the newest, professional grade, top-of-the-line race bike from one of Italy’s premier manufactures. Online I’ve seen prices from $5,800.00 USD just for the frame. Of course, you wouldn’t want to put a Beetle engine in a Ferrari, so you can count on another $2,200.00 for a Campagnolo Record 11 transmission. Don’t forget wheels. You can dump another $1,500.00 to $3,000.00 easily. In the end, you get one expensive bike, but one hell of a high performing machine. So, if you are going to invest that much, make sure you’re riding at least 150 miles a week and avoiding the blueberry muffins and chocolate cupcakes. These days when ideologies come with a high price and seem to fluctuate like the market, this enhanced Dogma stiffness will never let you down.
Photo Credits: Brad Jardine
Adventure Travel in Honduras: A New Destination for an Active Vacation
The active travel industry has found its way to Central America, but not many operators work with Honduras: an up-and-coming destination for the adventure travel savvy. Honduras boasts 820 kilometers of coastline and is the second largest country in Central America, bordering Guatemala, Nicaragua and El Salvador. In the lowlands and along the coast, the temperatures remain subtropical, while higher inland the climate is more temperate. The northern coasts are far cooler than the southern rainforests. More prominent geographical features are the narrow plains along the north, and the famous La Mosquita lowland jungle in the northeast. The Bay Islands lay just north of the mainland with the three principal islands being Roatan, Utila and Guanaja. Honduras is home to a number of mountains, with the tallest being Cerro Las Minas – an extinct volcano – in the relatively savage western part of the country at 2849 meters. So with all of this inland jungle and coastal, there are a number of different activities to pursue for travelers on a shoestring looking for adventure:
Diving
Off the northern coast of Honduras and near the Bay Islands, are some of the most intriguing dive sites in the Caribbean, Roatán has many dive sites offering the most entrancing views through clear, celeste water. The El Águila Wreck is one of the most attractive underwater features. Purposely sunk in 1997 for wreck diving, Hurricane Mitch broke the vessel into three parks opening further entrances into the ship. Swarmed with groupers and moray eels, these waters are filled with barrel sponges, hammerhead sharks, strong currents, and adrenaline-filled adventure. Colorful reefs are home to barracuda, sargassum triggerfish and damselfish, adding to Honduras’s submarine treasures.
Rafting
Honduras’s richness lies as much on top of the water as underneath it. La Mostikia (better known as the Mosquito Coast) offers some excellent high class rapids. Along the Cangrejal River for example, are Class III and IV rapids, as well as some astonishing views of this Rio Plátano Bioshphere Reserve. This reserve is one of the few existing tropical rainforests in Central America, with extensive plant and wildlife. Along the Rio Sico, there is th
e possibility to spend a longer expedition of up to 4 days navigating the challenging waters. Views of crocodiles and iguanas are as abundant as hawks and falcons along these fertile banks.
Horseback
The small farming community of Cabañas has excellent horseback routes. Day-long rides through coffee fields and tiny farming communities offer a great opportunity to visit the traditional houses painted with colored mud. Ride underneath a waterfall or along the coast in La Ceiba. Roàtan also offers tantalizing equestrian itineraries alo
ng the western-end of the island through almond groves and under mango trees. When the senses are overloaded in the sunlight, try a nocturnal ride through the jungle. The sounds become more pronounced and the wind and moon play among the shadows. Plan your trip during the full moon and you won’t be disappointed.
Windsurfing
Along the Northern coast and in Roàtan, the winds and waters are perfect for windsurfing. The Roàtan is home to part of the world’s second largest reef protecting the harbor from disturbing surf. It is also home to some of the most diverse coral life. The area also offers opportunities to check out Kite-surfing. The winds form the north are gentle and both sports can be enjoyed from the beginner to the expert level depending on where you go within the bay.
Zoncolan: Video from the Giro 2011
A few weeks ago, I posted this blog about climbing the Zoncolan by bike. A few weeks later I posted this response to my initial post. I’ve finally gotten around to edit all the video I took on that magnificent day into a nice six-minute adventure.
I’m not here to promote cycling. I’m here for the pure adventure of what I experienced that day in the mountain, watching the Giro d’Italia. During the time we sat on the mountain, listening to the howling and screaming, I felt a sense of what it must have been like 60 years ago. The intensity of the crowd must’ve been similarly intense, and the foreboding clouds and rolling thunder only increased the drama. It was a scene unlike any I’ve ever lived. With the following video, I hope the reader can also partake in – what can only be described as – one of the most electric and dramatic days of my life.
Special thanks to Punto Tours for having placed me on assignment for this piece.
I’d greatly enjoy reading your comments if you feel so inspired by this video. I’ll be on assignment again soon, but I’ll make sure to get back to you as quickly as I can.
Facing Fear: New Depths in Adventure Travel
“Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’entrate.” This epithet – notoriously carved above the entrance gates to Dante’s Inferno – initiated the Zoncolan climb: a narrow road with an average 15% grade for 10 kilometers. The top of the climb reaches 1700 m with stunning views over the valley. A few weeks ago I wrote about scouting the Zoncolan here. It would be a futile attempt in this blog post to express in detail each painful meter, each dragging foot of elevation gain, every aching rotation of the pedals. Oh reader! I would like to quench your curiosity with an amazing tale about our hero’s relentless battle to reach the heavenly summit. It would be a privilege to relate an epic tale of courageously facing one’s fears with the ecstatic onlookers cheering on our protagonist to new heights. To which end he presses further, out of the saddle, to a climactic victory up high.
Dear reader, I would like to relate all this, but I can’t. Dante’s journey into hell is by all accounts a “descent.” It is the spiraling “ascent” through Purgatory that is physically exhausting, emotionally draining, yet redemption awaits for those who are true of heart. For this tale, by the fourth kilometer, the mountain had gotten the better of our two-wheeled pilgrim, who descended from his bicycle to walk quite a distance. There is nothing to pen about this journey. In fact, there is no story here.
There is legend.
For had our hero not been witness to the most stunning interplay of human determination and elemental wrath, it would otherwise be impossible to believe. It was a stunning display of our meager existence interlaced with powers greater than we imagine.
The early afternoon scorched. Clear skies gave way to blazing temperatures. Our cyclists moved slowly up the hill, burdened with backpacks equipped with supplies for whatever adverse elements lay in store for the afternoon. Morning television reported possible late thunderstorms. Yet, it was due in part to this heat that our heroes stepped off from their bicycles and began to walk. The climb was an unbearable furnace.
But as Dante’s Inferno is a mix of fire and ice, so is this mountain. Lo Zoncolan is high enough to wield freezing temperatures and gale-force winds. After hours of walking, our weary travelers made it to within 350 m of the finish line, where over 100,000 damned souls screamed and wailed in expectation of a great finish. Their moans reflected an agony of almost having been exiled to this mountain top for hours if not days, waiting for he big finish to arrive. After hours of inebriation in the blazing sun, these faceless shadows had lost their wits, teetering on the brink of insanity. Our cyclists stayed focused, climbing out of the girone that was the small mountain road and onto the grassy knoll just before the 100m sign to the finish.
The deafening loudspeaker reports announcing the peloton’s proximity rivaled heaven’s trumpeting archangels. The crowd whistled and screamed in drunken mists, spinning themselves dizzy within the mountain fog that settled. At every numerical countdown – 8 km from the finish, now 5 km, now 3 km – these specters howled and roared. Helicopters mimicked Satan’s minions, soaring overhead like black demons, beating the air with a million anxious heartbeats. The ground shook as the wind stirred the mountain sides, bringing an icy end to the day’s scorching heat.
One glance over the shoulder revealed what lay in the hours to come: black clouds grew within the eastern valley of Zoncolan. “That wrath is headed this way,” they thought. At the same moment, a distant thunder roll, then another, and the masses voiced everyone’s inner tension. The mobs gathered around the narrow asphalt path, as flashes of light lit up the crowd. Some believed they were merely early camera flashes, but far away an angry deity was aroused in a fury. The light and sound initially seemed unable to find a perfect rhythm: first a flash than a grumbling moan about half a minute later. But little by little, the two lovers slowly embraced until they were dancing directly over our heads.
Suddenly a collective scream overtook the mountain side, growing in intensity: the first riders appeared from the dark forest below. The guardians along the
path locked arms and held the possessed and inebriated spirits from tearing apart the first cyclists: released like fresh souls into this unforgiving underworld. With 200 m to go, the first drops of rain fell on the racers, the road, the podium and the spectators. As Igor Anton made his way to the 50 m mark, the rain fell in diagonal sheets, riveting the protective plastic covers of the bierhaus and softening the grassy hillsides. By the time the second racer, Alberto Contador, came to that same mark, the weather changed to bitter cold. The rain became pea-sized hail, bouncing off the Spaniard’s helmet and the pavement. Lightning continued to streak and snap overhead, as the thunder that followed its steps muffled the crazed and infuriated loudspeaker, which screamed in vain to commentate meter by meter the outcome of this awesome spectacle.
Fearful and tired, the spectators dashed for shelter. What little cover there was at this altitude found itself bursting with four to five-times the number of people it was constructed to hold. Another torrent of hail and rain scattered these lost souls and created mud pits and slippery paths through the fields. Since the road was closed to the racers, the only remaining option was to wait out the storm with no cover, or hike through the treacherous, murky goat paths to get to the other side of the mountain. Our heroes threw their bikes over their shoulders, and began climbing up. They advanced towards the mayhem at the top of the mountain, which was compounded by over 100,00 people moving all at once.
Scaling muddy mountain sides and straddling aluminum fences, our travelers stumbled upon the last member of the group (quite miraculously) at the top of the climb. Dressed as best as possible for foul weather, the three began to descend the mountain in a torrential thunderstorm. Lightning crashed on the hillside as the skies rumbled and cracked with discontent. Every car looking to flee the chaos maneuvered its way along the harrowing narrow roads with dropping cliffs on either side. A veritable exodus out of hell, the cars were backed up and honking, with their hazards flashing. Our travelers threaded the necessary needles to get away from this chaos and down to warmer altitudes. At a bar in the valley, Charon – the van – drove our journeymen out from the rings of hell and into a warm hotel for the evening.
Dear reader, I would have liked to have written about my personal successes on Zoncolan. In a way, I believe I just did.
In Vail with the Runs: Part Two – The Celebrities
About a week ago I started a small series on the names given to the ski runs in Vail. In that post, it was the
logging profession and the influence of the loggers on the mountain that gave the trails very interesting titles. In this post, I’ll continue talking about the front side (as well as some of the back) and the men and women immortalized on the mountain by having their names printed in blue and white.
The Front Side: The Celebrities
Of course, not everyone that comes to Vail is a celebrity. Many have earned this status just by living and working in the village, by being some of the pioneers who built hotels, gave donations to the town, or worked in the ski school. When you’re in Vail this weekend enjoying that powder, keep in mind all of the trails which are directly connected with people who have – in one way or another – changed the face of this well-known ski town over the past 60 years:
Widge’s Ridge: Alice “Widge” Ferguson an early back bowl devotee who always seemed to bring fresh snowfall with her every time she came out from Denver.
Ricky’s Ridge: Named for Ricky Andermatter from Zermatt, Switzerland, one of Vail’s first ski instructors.
Lindsey’s: The former International run. Renamed for a local ski champion – who is still winning gold – Lindsey Vonn.
Pepi’s Face: The last and steepest face of Lindsey’s. Pepi Gramshammmer raced with the Austrian national team and was recruited to come to Vail at its opening in 1962. He loved it so much, he decided to stay forever. He still operates and owns Gastof Gramshammer (a hotel and restaurant, with probably the best apple strudel in Colorado), Pepi’s Bar and Pepi’s Sports in the Village with his wife Sheika.
38: Named for the 38th President of the United States – Gerald Ford – who was an avid Vail skier.
Head First: Named after Howard Head, ski design innovator and owner of Head Skis. His residence was at the base of the International (now Lindsey’s) run in the village.
Minnie’s Mile: Named after Charles Minot Dole, “Minnie” founded the National Ski Patrol in 1938 and convinced the War Department to create the 10th Mountain Division of ski troopers during World War II. This division was fundamental in winning mountain outposts at altitude during the 1940s.
Pete’s Bowl: Named after Vail’s founder Pete Seibert. A former member of the 10th Mountain division, he finally fulfilled his dream of founding, building and operating a ski resort when Vail opened in 1962.
Earl’s Bowl: Earl Eaton initially discovered the area that would become Vail mountain in 1957 as he was prospecting for uranium. His discovery led to the development of North America’s largest single-mountain ski area. He showed his discovery to his good friend Pete Seibert, who put all the groundwork in place for a marvelous ski resort.
Milt’s Face: Assistant Ski Patrol leader in 1962, Milt Wiley was particularly fond of this run in the west side of Sun Up Bowl.
In Vail with the Runs: Part One – The Loggers
Have you ever asked yourself where a trail-name comes from? Sometimes the stories behind the naming of the ski-runs as well as their location on the mountain can give you reason to lift your head and say, “Huh, I didn’t know that,” or maybe share a tidbit or two with the folks next to you on the lift. In this series, I’ll take a look at the trail names in Vail, CO (since there are so many, and since I am here) and how they came to be. Starting with the Front Side, I’ll move to the runs in Game Creek Bowl, the Back Bowls and in Blue Sky Basin. All of them make interesting info to share the next time you’re at the Trivial Pursuit board, as well as something to think about while you’re carving up the slopes (if you’re thinking at all).
The Front Side: The Loggers
In the early years, the front side of Vail was cleared to make these first runs. The loggers who practically lived on the mountain (with none of the shelters and restaurants we see today) named most of the front side. From breakfast to britches, techniques to tools, they came up with some of the more unique titles. Here is a sampling of the front side, and its connection to the logging industry of the late 1960s:
Tin Pants: In the early years of Vail’s development, the canvas chaps worn by loggers were waterproofed with grease or pitch. In freezing weather, the pants were known to get stiff and the men called them “tin pants.” The loggers were able to slide back down to camp on them when work was completed for the day.
Boomer: A device that tightened the chains around logs which had been loaded for transport.
Choker Cutoff: “Chokers” were the cables wrapped around bundles of logs in order to haul them out of the mountain. The “cutoff” was simply where these cables were trimmed.
Flapjack: A really flat patch of the east side named after the loggers’ favorite breakfast.
Pickeroon: A long-handled, hooked pole (otherwise known as a “peavy”) used by lumbermen to get leverage on heavy logs, and roll them to a desired location.
Log Chute: A steep clearing cut through the woods and lined with poles where logs went shooting down the mountain side to be loaded onto vehicles at a 
lower altitude.
Highline: Pulleys were rigged to the treetops throughout the mountain. A cable (“highline”) was then threaded through the pulley and hooked to a steam engine to haul the felled trunks out of the forest.
Skid Road: You may think this title comes from skiers skidding down the mountain path – but it isn’t. In the early days of logging, before steam-powered vehicles were able to climb the mountainsides, teams of horses pulled the logs out of the forest on skid roads.
Blue Ox: Named for the legendary lumberjack (and logging hero) Paul Bunyan’s ox, who turned blue during the “winter of blue snow.”
Northwoods: The first trail cut in the Northeast Bowl, in 1967. Named for the beautiful strands of timber through which it runs. Northstar – just next to it – faces the actual North Star (“Polaris”) all year round.
Pando, CO: A Cooler Place than Most
One of the greatest advantages to reading Vail Valley Magazine are the engaging articles within it, like the one from a few weeks ago written by Shirley Welch. In the piece, “Before Camp Hale, Ice was a Cash Crop,” Welch sheds light on this corner of Colorado before the ski resorts of the 1960s came to take over the valley. The area of Pando, for example, became well known in the 1920s as the principal supplier of ice for the refrigerated cars along the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad (which began in 1882). Pando was in fact a locomotive transfer depot in the Valley and also served as a passenger railway station. It wasn’t long before Pando began to have a significant population to it, and its fortunate fate lay in the cold lakes just underneath the main ridge.
The Eagle Valley was formed during the glacial modifications of the past millennia. As the glaciers melted and retracted, much of the west end was filled with a muddy substance, resulting in a swampy area. This formed a ledge where rainwater lakes were naturally barricaded. These lakes would be of major importance in refrigerated transport of the early 1920s.
Produce from the Rocky Mountain’s valley floors and river beds needed to be sold at market in the bigger cities. The American Refrigerator Transit Company (ART) was formed, engineering railway cars that were leased to the Denver & Rio Grande. These cars were a work of ART: each one hand-constructed, built in a pine-pine
tongue and groove, and varnished to a high gloss. To enhance the insulation of these cars, the walls were packed with six feet of sawdust, and ice was loaded into the car from the top. Each car was equipped with a runoff drain to prevent flooding.
But it’s the ice that put Pando on the map. In the west end of the valley, a lake 7 feet deep was created by damming the Eagle River. Chains were placed into the water so that large chunks of ice could be pulled from the surface during the winter. Men with one-handed saws would roughly cut cubes of the ice and float it down the pond. The chains then would haul the ice out of the water and onto a finishing platform where the ice was cut into 2 feet square blocks. About 40 men were needed to cut, shape, load and finish the ice blocks, which resulted in a very prosperous business until the 1930s when the produce crops were infected by brown rot and the US military would soon begin making its arrangements to train troops in these mountains. As a consequence, the ice industry melted away to the war machine’s mighty blaze, which in turn gave birth to Vail and to ski tourism in the valley.
Trails and Tales along the Back Country in Vail
Recently, in Colorado’s high country, the Eisenhower Tunnel was closed down due to weather. For some people, the drive to Denver took up to six hours. Meanwhile, here in Vail, the snow continued to fall. In this valley powder is synonymous with downhill bliss, yet we often forget (or maybe we don’t even realize) how much else there is to do in the Vail Valley other than descending steep faces and skiing moguls. I come from a ski-touring background, and while I enjoy the downhill euphoria, I prefer discovering quiet and calm ski itineraries far from the holiday crowds. Put the downhill skis in the basement, it’s time to get the heart pumping and go uphill for a spell.
The Vail Hiker and Ski Touring Guide by Mary Ellen Gilliland gives scores of alternatives to downhill
skiing in Vail, Eagle County and the Gore Valley, among others. Gilliland writes hiking and snowshoeing guides of Eagle County. Each itinerary is viewed from the historical background unique to this region of the High Country. For example, her other books include A Gold Rush History, and Breckenridge, 150 years of Golden History. So Gilliland not only knows the background of the area, she knows the back-country. And here are two itineraries to look at the next time you make it through the tunnel:
Two Elk: The creek bearing this same name has sculpted the beautiful Two Elk Canyon. Enormous limestone sentinels herald the arrival to the trail head off of highway 24. This rock was formed by ancient marine animal shells and the mud-slit from an ancient saltwater sea that formed in the Colorado area billions of years ago. Today, many fossils can still be seen along the trail along with beautiful flora and fauna. Gilliland’s book gives perfect directions to the trail head, with lovely descriptions of the aspens and cottonwoods that accompany the journey. This itinerary is very challenging due to the narrowness of the terrain as it twists and turns among trees and along rock walls. Regardless, the itinerary offers one of the best views of Vail’s famous Back Bowls:
A knockout view awaits you at the summit…To the northwest lie the the softer contours of Vail Mountain’s famous back bowls, Mongolia, Siberia, China, Sunup, Sundown and Game Creek; southwest is Bluesky Basin. Southeast are peaks of the Sawatch Range. A [Ute] Indian name, “Sawatch” (Sagauche) means “water of the blue earth.”
No Name Road: An easier itinerary due to its wider roads and straight paths, it runs along the old road originally used by the ice harvesters in Pando (more on this in a future post). In fact, the view from this ridge gives a glimpse into the icemen’s life of almost one-hundred years ago:
Below is the site of early-day Pando and Camp Hale. The name Pando probably comes from the Spanish word meaning “slow water.” … A man named Roudebush built the first cabin at Eagle Park’s upper end (today’s Camp Hale site) after Frank Benjamin and C. C. Welsh discovered placer gold just south of present-day Pando.
The path is well protected by pines and thick evergreens and thus the wind has difficulty penetrating their branches. As an intriduction to skiing in the wilderness, this itinerary is perfect for anyone looking to break themselves into the beauty of the back-country. The incline is slightly graded and delivers a refreshing workout away from the holiday madness found in the valley, for a winter vacation that’s all uphill from here.
Movie Mondays: The Villa Roseraie
Provence is soft and warm, yet cool and breezy; a mix of sun and shade. It’s the smell of the hay fields and the perfume of anisette Forcalquier Pastis in the evenings. It’s the sound of cicadas at midday, of children out of school, of the Festival de la Musique on the 15th of June, and of the Mistral: at times soft and gentle whispering through plane tree boulevards, other times harsh, wailing banshee-like through the ruins of medieval towns.
Provence has been well known for centuries as the artistic inspiration for masters such as Van Gogh and Matisse. But Munch, Monet, Picasso, Cezanne, and Renoir also found a stroke of genius in this rich and sensuous region of Southern France. If you have never been, go. And if you go, stay in Vence at the Villa Roseraie: a charming inn which delivers the veritable Provence through the decor of its rooms, the abundance of its fare, and the warmth of its hosts.
Max and Laurence purchased the Villa Roseraie five years ago when it was practically in ruin. Through their hard work and dedication to preserving the look and feel of this inspirational region, Max and Laurence have managed to turn this late 19th century aristocratic villa into one of the most extraordinary hotels in the Var. The fresh pain au raisin each morning, accompanied by warm café in the tuliped gardens by the pool, is a memorable way to begin the journée. The rooms are cozy and comforting, warm and inviting. A stay at the Villa Roseraie is more a stay with friends in the countryside than a night in a hotel. And I assure you, at the end of your séjour, Max and Laurence will become your friends, and they’ll look forward to your return.
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The Dauphin: More than just Flipper
If you spend enough time in the French Alps, you’ll see a curious sight: dolphins. Not in the Lac de Bourget or the Lac d’Aiguebelete, but instead on buses, public announcements and the coat of arms. You’ll see them in the local paper and at summer festivals. For some reason there are dolphins all over most of the Savoie region (Southwestern France) despite that this mountainous area is miles and miles from the sea.
To answer this slippery question as to why there are so many marine mammals in the Alps, we need to look back at the Middle Ages. Needless to say it was a time of fluctuating political boarders, as armies of Franks and Arabs fought over control of Provence. In 855, Provence became a kingdom ruled by a man named Boson, who also ruled the areas of Vienne, Lyon and the Alps. Over the next 100 years, this enormous territory was annexed to the Kingdom of Burgundy, and its lands stretched from Basel all the way to the coast of the Mediterranean. In the 12th century, the feudal struggles within this vast area left three permanent political divisions: Provence, Haute-Provence, and the area then known as Southern Viennois which belonged to the Court of of Albon. Within this Court, there lived Count Guigues IV, whose middle name was dauphin.
From the House of Albon (and later branches of the House of Savoy) the title of “dauphin” implied a blood connection to Count Guigues IV and the nickname was thus passed on throughout the
lineage. As a result, the area surrounding Vienne, Lyon and the Savoy became known as the “territory ruled by the dauphin” – or the dauphiné. Although France’s blue-blooded monarchies lost their heads in the 19th century, the politico-geographic delineation of the dauphiné is still felt in the artistic renditions of delphinus all over the public scene. Even major sporting events in the area have the same title. The Dauphiné Liberé, a popular regional newspaper, decided to sponsor a one-week bicycle race just after the end of World War II. This bicycle race, held in June every year since the ’40s, was initiated by the regional newspaper – just like the early beginnings of the bigger bike races. The cyclists would ride from town to town over the course of a week, and as a result, the locals became more familiar with the paper, and more subscriptions were sold. Yet this critérium also became a test race for riders and for the press to test their communication systems before July’s Tour de France. Naturally, many winners of the Tour de France have also competed and won the Dauphiné Liberé, such as Armstrong in 2002 and 2003. I guess for every great rider there is a greater “porpoise.”