Allez la Douze: Dropping Flies

The switchbacks of Luz Ardiden

An ancient Velominati legend states that when the The Prophet created the common fly, he gave it a maximum air speed of exactly 12 kilometers per hour. When he created the common Cyclist, on the other hand, he gave us a maximum climbing speed of 11.9 kilometers per hour.

The worst flies on the planet live in the Pyrenees, where it is hot and humid. I recall an overcast typical day in the Pyrenees, the kind of day where the flies pull back the drapes, look outside, and decide to take the whole family out to the Cols for an afternoon of Cyclist Surfing. As it happened, we were on a big ride that day; we started with the Col d’Aspin, went over the Tourmalet, and ended at Luz Ardiden as the sun was tucking in behind the shoulders of the mountains surrounding us.

It was here, on the lower slopes of the last climb, down within the suffocating effect of the tree line where our sanity was most severely tested. Luz Ardiden is the cruelest kind of climb, the sort that is always one hour from ending, as Will Fotheringham once pointed out. With 13km to go, the speed you climb at is 13km/h; with 12km to go, the speed drops to 12km/h, then to 11, and so on with always an hours’ riding left before you.

The guns had been thoroughly drained of any power after 160km over two of the most fearsome climbs in the Pyrenees; the mind was not far from cracking. I do not know what is worse; the noise of their flying droves, or their endless dancing upon the arms and legs, but the flies here are incessant. It is hard enough, climbing at track-stand speed, without the added challenge of doing so while wildly swinging an arm or two about and cursing every manner of airborne invertebrate.

The reserves were tapped and the bottom of the V-Well scraped for every bit of speed in an effort to escape this torturous hell. Above the treeline and into the pastures, the flies found more appealing hosts than boney Cyclists, and I was left to once again commune with butterflies – the only sort of flying insect I find at all tolerable.

Every summertime climb I have ever done has been accompanied by these pests; and every summertime climb – irrespective of my fitness – has been enjoyed at a maximum speed of just under 12 kilometers per hour. Having insects capable of flying a bit faster than the struggling cyclist is Nature’s enforcement of Rule #5, it is the Way of Things.

Vive la Vie Velominatus.

frank

The founder of Velominati and curator of The Rules, Frank was born in the Dutch colonies of Minnesota. His boundless physical talents are carefully canceled out by his equally boundless enthusiasm for drinking. Coffee, beer, wine, if it’s in a container, he will enjoy it, a lot of it. He currently lives in Seattle. He loves riding in the rain and scheduling visits with the Man with the Hammer just to be reminded of the privilege it is to feel completely depleted. He holds down a technology job the description of which no-one really understands and his interests outside of Cycling and drinking are Cycling and drinking. As devoted aesthete, the only thing more important to him than riding a bike well is looking good doing it. Frank is co-author along with the other Keepers of the Cog of the popular book, The Rules, The Way of the Cycling Disciple and also writes a monthly column for the magazine, Cyclist. He is also currently working on the first follow-up to The Rules, tentatively entitled The Hardmen. Email him directly at rouleur@velominati.com.

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  • @JohnB

    @Graeme

    The worst flies are in the Pyrenees... obviously this rider has never been to the west coast of Scotland In midge season...

    +1 and you simply can't see or hear the midge until it's too late. Avon Skin So Soft Dry Oil, Woodland Fresh is the only thing that I've found that counters them. It has the added bonus effect of putting a sheen on the guns and arms but it's no Baxter...

    The first cousin of the scottish midge has made it's way to the West coast of Ireland. Little fvckers. We're having an unseasonably warm end-of-summer, which is great for evening rides as long as you don't mind riding through clouds of biting bastards. Found some stuff called 'Smidge' made by some Scots that works. Never got any results from that Avon stuff even though half the local CC swear by it...

    http://www.amazon.co.uk/Smidge-That-Midge-Insect-Repellent/dp/B00413715E/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1379401549&sr=8-1&keywords=smidge+insect+repellent

  • When I climbed the Bieler Höhe in Austria this year I was in the 8-9kph section, which was as slow to invite flies to sit on my handlebar!

  • I don't remember flies going over the Tourmalet last August, maybe they thought I was an inanimate object that had been carelessly left on the edge of the road.

    I don't remember there being many other cyclists in Luz saint Sauveur but it was midday when I got there and any one in their right mind would plan on hitting the slopes earlier on in the day to avoid the heat.

    I wish I done Luz Ardiden but with the Hautacam already in my legs and the Tourmalet and 115km ahead it seemed like a mountain too many. Next time.

  • @snoov

    My infected deerfly bite (like horsefly) a few years back. Better example of a target pattern than I could find anywhere on the net.

    Photo pre-dates buying a bike and Rule #33 compliance.

    Nasty.  That bite doesn't look so great either.

  • @James

    I can go one better. Riding the 4WD tracks up Mt Kosciuszko (Australias highest mountain, but not so high on a world scale) underneath the chairlifts in summer, the gradient is such that riding just faster than walking pace is a big effort. The march flies, with their big green eyes, orange bum and long stinging proboscis circle like vultures waiting for a sick animal to die. The deeper note of their slow wing beats compared to regular bush flies make them easy to identify. And then like a buzz bomb, the humming stops.

    That's because the bastard has landed on your blood enriched left calf, and its proboscis is begining to drill into your skin. At this point, timing is everything. You must pick a few metres of track, engage extra effort from your body, and take a hand off the bars to whack that prick and not fall off.

    But you miss, and the humming starts again.

    This is true, every word.

    They are so big you can see their shadow on the ground beside your own. You can feel them land on you and then you try swipe them off. At our camp in Jindabyne in January you hear calls amongst the group of 'right calf,' 'left butt cheek' to alert the rider to a mammoth of a march fly on them. I nearly fell off my bike last year as I watched one of the guys pretending to be a windmill as he swiped away the bastards.

  • Yep, sorry North American & Euro-Velominatii, but you fuckers know nothing of flies or other fucker insects. Riding in summer down here in Oz, north winds, 40 degrees and every mutation of big fat fly hitting you in the face as you hump it into a headwind spiked with dust whist trying to avoid a bogan in a ute hurling  a beer can at you. The only advantage of the big Dunny Budgie fly is that they're so big their wings make the sound of an idling chainsaw so you can hear the fuckers coming.

  • My vote goes to midges too... much worse than any standard fly.

    Not as bad individually as a horsefly but those tend to be lone attackers. Midges swarm.

    We have the occasional wasp - a bit like the ones you get in France. I had one go down my jersey once and he just kept stinging me until I could get him out.

    But my single worst insectal experience on a bike has to be the time that a bee flew into my mouth and stung me on the tongue. Lucky I'm not allergic, but it was extremely painful and swollen and I had to get tweezers and pull the sting out when I got home.

  • Yeah, march flies are shite, but slow and stupid too.   Well, I reckon only the stupid ones visit me. They alight so gently though, you barely feel them.  My dog hates them, and I had a mare who would stand still so you could swat them off her legs, she hated them so much.   Dog runs inside at the sound of them.

    One  of my very few religious beliefs is that everyone gets a fly.   As soon as you kill your fly, God notices and sends you another one. There is always a fly.   The best thing i learned in Kung-fu is how to move fast enough to swat any fly.   it's all God does. He does not give a crap about sparrows falling, he just makes sure that everyone has a fly. 

    The worst thing is out West, when the buggers will actually follow your fork into your mouth! If eating outside. You have to wave and swat as you open your mouth.

  • @ChrisO

    My vote goes to midges too... much worse than any standard fly.

    Not as bad individually as a horsefly but those tend to be lone attackers. Midges swarm.

    We have the occasional wasp - a bit like the ones you get in France. I had one go down my jersey once and he just kept stinging me until I could get him out.

    But my single worst insectal experience on a bike has to be the time that a bee flew into my mouth and stung me on the tongue. Lucky I'm not allergic, but it was extremely painful and swollen and I had to get tweezers and pull the sting out when I got home.

    There are a load of medical folk in here and I'm not - but if a next time (and anyone else) don't use tweezers on a bee sting.  You just squeeze the poison out of the sack and into you and make it worse.  You need to avoid touching the sting and get either very fine tweezers or the back of a couple of knife blades to pull it out right at skin level without squeezing the poison sack.  That way will result in far less pain and swelling.  Easier said than done but I have managed to stop a few people making things worse that way.  Of course doing that down your own throat would be another challenge!

  • My personal worst one was a Hornet.  Darned thing was so big had a little beast sat on it's back with a spear and shield when it appeared alongside me.  When it stung me on my back it felt like the wee fella went clean through my shoulder blade with his spear.  At that point I fell off my bike and became a sitting target for a few more stings for good measure.

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