For hundre år siden
Eugène Christophe recounts how he won the arduous Milan-San Remo 1910, and the infamous climb of the Passo del Turchino:
The roads were muddy and frozen and we had to bounce along in the ruts, riding on the verges between the posts that were spaced every 20 metres as far as Pavia. We rode the first 32km in 56 minutes, the 53km from Milan to Voghera in an hour and 50 minutes. There was attack after attack.”We got to the notorious Col de Turchino. The clouds were low, the countryside was unattractive and we started to feel the cold more and more. The half-melted snow made the race very hard and we were struggling too with a glacial wind. I dropped my friend Ernest Paul to get up to Ganna, who I could see on the hairpins. I got up and past him without too much trouble because he didn’t seem to be standing the cold any better than I was.
Not far from the summit I had to get off my bike because I started feeling bad. My fingers were rigid, my feet numb, my legs stiff and I was shaking continuously. I began walking and running to get my circulation back, looking at the countryside. It was bleak and the wind made a low moaning noise. I’d have felt scared if I hadn’t been used to bad weather in cyclo-crosses.
Well, I got back on my bike and I got to the top of the col. A soigneur told me I was six minutes down on the leader. I found van Hauwaert at the exit of the tunnel with his bike in his hand and a cloak on his back. He told me he was packing it in. I was beyond feeling happy about it and I just got on with going down through the snow that lay on the road on that side of the mountain.
The view was totally different now. The snow made the countryside beautiful. The sky was clear. But now it was my turn to have trouble. It was hard to keep going. In places there were 20 centimetres of snow. Each time I was obliged to get off and push. Then I had to stop with stomach cramp. I collapsed on to a rock at the side the road. I was freezing. All I could do was move my head a little from left to right and right to left.
I saw a house not far away but I couldn’t get there. I didn’t realise just what danger I was in. I just wanted to get to San Remo first… I thought too of my contract with the bike factory. I’d get double my wages if I won, as well as primes, and there’d be my 300 francs for first place. Happily in my misfortune a man chanced to pass by. ”He stopped and spoke to me in Italian, naturally. I nodded towards the house and said casa [house] and he understood. He took me by the arm and led me to the house, which was a tiny inn. The landlord undressed me and wrapped me in a blanket. I murmured ‘aqua caldo’ [hot water] and pointed at the bottles of rum.
I did some physical exercises and I started to get some feeling back in my body. I wanted to go on but the patron wouldn’t hear of it and pointed at the snow still falling outside. And then first van Hauwaert and then Ernest Paul came in. They were so frozen that they put their hands into the flames. Ernest Paul had lost a shoe without noticing.
I was there for about 25 minutes. I saw four racers go by, or at least four piles of mud. I decided to press on. Ernest Paul said, ‘You’re crazy.’ And the innkeeper didn’t want to let me go. I had to trick him by saying I could meet someone who would get me to San Remo by train. I set off and caught Cocchi and Pavesi and I got to the control just behind Ganna, who was setting off as I stopped. I set off again after Baugé told me I could win. I passed Ganna at the edge of the town. I caught Albini a few kilometres later.
At the control at Savona everybody was astonished to see me alone. The crowd didn’t know me. I didn’t stop long and took Trousellier’s spare bike, because I knew he and Garrigou had abandoned before Ovada. I was sure of my victory and with only 100km to go I felt a new strength. The idea of crossing the line alone brought back all my energy. I got to San Remo well behind the scheduled time. It was six pm when I finally got there.
Fra
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