The Missionaries of our times

The Missionaries of our times aren’t dressed in long brown robes, nor do they have Amish beards. The New Missionaries don’t keep a holy book tucked underneath their armpits, or refine colorful Masabcha between their fingers. 

The Missionaries of our times don’t travel to faraway lands in order to return lost souls to the bosom of heaven nor do they hand out Hare Krishna books on the streets.

The New Missionaries, us, are  the means of technology, media, film, industry, imports, employees and self-employed, mothers, school children, students, and those living on state support, all of whom want just one thing: to bring you, our new ‘candidate’ to our new religion, one which we have recently been exposed to.

Worshipers we are, and our Gods are named Lance, Chipo and Ronald Green, and like all believers we play (in single file, of course) – wanted to arrive closer but knowing we’ll never make it.

Our temples, where we gallop every Saturday morning or every other possible day, lay on the summits of mountains from Eilat to Metula and from the Alps to the Carpathian Mountains. Our Messiah lies far in the Moav desert and one day he will arrive – and if not we’ll go to him. Our holy altar lies usually in the best place in the house, hosting our holy artifacts, often with a hidden price tag in order to avoid comments from others.

Like a missionary, we’re bursting to the brim with information about any possible ‘target’ to be devoured. We passionately read the professional news from Israel and the World, translating the important parts to the Holy language – so that all can understand and memorize the new jargon. Our information centers, the forums, are open 24/7 and are able to provide and receive information (with visual aids), where we receive our daily tips, and support in cases of falling (God forbid).

Our history books are void of World Wars. For us, history began with the invention of the wheel, preferably ones so advanced, ceramic with pointy tips that their replacement costs as much as taking out a mortgage.

We keep kosher, do not mix protein with carbs, and our holy bread is made of whole wheat. Though we do not refrain from cooking on Sabbath, Holiness slowly cooks on the largest plate of all leading up to the miracle of mountains – willing to sell our baby’s diaper and every sharp turn or exhilarating run.

“How big is your front?” is a common question, and not only are we not nervous, but we’re eager to show – “I have 130 going down to 90 but stays active”.

We don’t have spare time, because all our spare time is dedicated to holy work, and the spare time from the spare time is used to recruit lost souls into our sweaty new religion.

The New Missionary studies his craft day and night, with no time to spend on the mundane chores such as weekend shopping or family trips, but always on call to drop everything and dedicate his spirit to “baptize” a new member, show him the routes, the people, and the various religious courts.

We have no greater pleasure than helping the embarrassed hopeful “see the light”, and nothing we do with more excitement than helping new members buy their new suit (preferably a three part, 8-layer padding for maximum comfort on the new seat, which we will also help with).

Our shrines have high-quality wooden platforms on which to place our golden earnings, in all their modern variations.

Our “Golden Calf” of worship is a cart of sorts, and though not technically following scripture, has something resembling horns, and costs something like its weight in gold.

So that our new members do not have to tire themselves with endless to-and-fro, we’ve located our shrines close to one another on a holy street called after our heroes – the “Chashmonaim”.

After we’ve done our work well, with the new believer hooked for good, The New Missionary can now turn to the important task of preserving our livelihood – also known as Upgrading and Maintenance, a holy tale which will be told, the prophecy believes, in our lifetimes.

Amen.

Ride and Enjoy!!!!

imagine yourself on a bike ride from your beautiful country side farm house in the heart of Chianti land in Tuscany   to piazzale Michelangelo in Florence. you take a bird`s eye look at the beautiful ancient city to slide down and cross Ponte   vecchio-on your bike. Next is a gentle stroll in the streets near the Duomo, an ice cream at world renown vivoli and a smooth ride back to your pool by the house all in a few hours all on your own bike.

the next day you do the same only this time you choose to visit piazza del campo in siena.sit down in a cafe in front of the piazza watch the children playing while you drink your hot chocolate to wet the oven fresh croissant that you ordered and maybe have a lovely conversation with your neighbors at the next table. an evening meal in a local restaurant serving only fresh farm produce homemade pasta and the best pizza.

then you visit montepulciano and pienza, buy local cheese and spend the afternoon in a winery tasting some wine

this is only a sample of what you can do in a week of bike vacation in Tuscany if you choose to do so with ironbach bike travels

Next trip-5-13 June 2011

For details please write:

kaitz@012.net.il to: Tuscany bike vacation

prologue
My affair with the French Pyrenees started as far back as 2001, when I first came there with friends for a hiking trip. The memories I had from this magical area brought me there time and again with a consistent, unexplained gravitational pull.
In 2005, when we first rode through the Central Pyrenees, I was part of a trip that would forever be remembered not only because of the location, but also because of a miracle save we had. Our friend Okas decided to examine close up, extremely close up, how does a 2m deep ditch – minding its own business by the side of the road – looked from the inside. The miracle, of course, is not the descent he took but the fact that he is still alive and well – and walking among us, strong as ever.
In the same trip I first became acquainted to an area new to me in the High Pyrenees (‘Hautes Pyrenees’), where the town of Luchon lies. It is in this area that I found the famous ascents that I’ve previously only read about: Col d`Aspin, Col de Perrysourde, Col du Tourmalet. It was then that I decided: it would be ‘Cross Pyrenees’ next year for me.
In November of that year I rounded up my friends, and announced the 2006 project: A Cross Pyrenees trip, done the hard way. We’ll depart from the Atlantic shores through the most difficult of ascents, and end in the Mediterranean. The French call it ‘Transpyrenee’.
The trip was ready to the last detail, but was abruptly cancelled because of a severe illness my mother got, which took her from us later that year. When my mother heard I’m about to give up the trip on her account, she called me to her. Like good Polish-Jewish mothers do, she demanded: “Why cancel? What happened? You’re not calling it off.” I told her: “I’ll go, mom, I’ll go.”
Mother passed away in September of 2006. I kept my Pyrenees dream tucked away in a corner of my heart. It’s been four years since I promised my mother and myself I’m going to pull this trip off eventually, and this year I did it.

First Riding Day: Hendaye – Larrau, 130km, 3,000m Climb
The group I brought along for this difficult ride is made out of very brave people. They’re also a little innocent. All the horror stories I told them, the worst case scenarios, the descriptive catastrophes – deterred no one. Things are not so simple when some of the people in question are ages 60-66. The first morning’s excitement is mixed with a grim gray overcast. My previous trips to the area have taught me that mountain weather is forever uncertain, and can turn pretty fast. The weatherman says something else, but I already realize we have an “interesting” week ahead with regard to the weather.
A full, tasty breakfast – and at 8 o’clock we’re on wheels. This morning I arranged for an early start because of the length of the planned route and the large climb planned, and especially because of the “first day syndrome,” that teaches us what our tour style is. At the end of the day, even the sleep-lovers among us thank me for the early start.
The convoy consists of 18 cyclers and a car. We’re out on the road, and in 20 minutes we can smell the ocean. The mood is excellent, the air cool, the feet fresh and our hearts are pounding at a reasonable rate. The “cornice Basque,” the picturesque beach-side Basque road, reminds us that we’re in the non-existent border between Basque Spain and France. We stop for a group picture, which will complement the one we’ll take on the beach of the Mediterranean, and then continue along the pretty beach. When you expect a day with 3,000 meters of climbing, you know that when kilometers pass and you remain level, the climb ahead is difficult. Indeed.
The first day route includes six climbs to six peaks (“cols”) – out of a total of 31 we have coming!!! Today four don’t count for much, and two do. The problem is that to get to the important ones, you have to go through all the rest, and the first long ascent to Col d’Iraty begins after about 100km.
We’ll be in this special Basque area for two and a half days, then begin to penetrate the Central Pyrenees, the bridge between east and west, that difficult high plateau we’ll reach down the road.
The ride is going at a good pace. The air is dry and somewhat cool, which gets us past the smaller, annoying climbs.
And here is the surprise: riding in Europe, a bicycle is getting the same treatment as a car! A car riding behind you won’t ever blow their horn, won’t get too near, and won’t try to bypass you unless the road allows for it. That will happen only after the driver made sure you noticed them, and that this is OK with you. I always feel that the relaxed mental attitude from a supporting environment increases motivation and calms down the cyclers, which significantly increases performance. One of the important things about riding so hard is to take the burden off logistics, food and hotels off the shoulders of the riders, and of course checking out the route and matching it properly to the group – and that’s the purpose of the location scouting trip, a must before a serious tour, especially if it is logistically complicated and physically exerting.
What I find fascinating about riding trips, cycling from hotel to hotel, is the lack of nuisance about departing or arriving. You leave one hotel and arrive at another. The problem is that you need to get to the next hotel eventually, even if it is 140km away and 3,000m of caccumulated climbing from the hotel you just left.
The hotels were selected meticulously, and some were even chosen instead of better ones because their location was just right. Each hotel received a highlighted list of the particular needs of each participant. It worked great.
Climbing to Col d’Iraty happens after you pass small towns – many take about the same time to pass as shifting gears (or writing this line). We stop in one of them to enjoy hot chocolate, a hurried meeting with the locals, and a much-needed rest.
The time is a bit before four. I figure there are about three more hours left. I look around – no complaints. The faces still aren’t worried. There’s adrenaline, and a sense of freshness, and the 22.5km climb ahead is the distance between where we are now and a long glide down from the top.
The first day is also a test that will reflect on the entire journey. It’s the real “dive” into the pool, after dozens of hours of satisfying training sessions that can never really tell you where you stand. At this stage I felt completely calm. Like a scriptwriter who sees words come together to form a text, and character description taken on by actors, I felt the “plan” was working, taking form. A brave group of men and women, which we mentioned were not very young, works itself through the climb: determined, resilient, smiling (sometimes) – and enjoying it. The hard weather is hovering above us but still isn’t telling us what we’ll really encounter, and we’re gliding the steep decline, not too fast, and land at Larru: a small paradise still in the heart of the land of the Basque. Huge green stretches of land can be seen from every room balcony, and we get a delicious meal. The rain hits the massive windows and the fog that lies on the valley sends us to sleep tired, satisfied, and just a little bit concerned – we only just started…

My Pyrenees Affair – Part II / Shlomo urbach

Day 2: Realization Dawning
Larrau – Col de Soudet – Col de Marie Blanque – Larruns Eaux-Bonnes, 100km, 2,400m climb
Tonight we slept well and were beginning to understand what lies ahead. The morning starts, as usual, with a nutritious local breakfast. A last look around and off we roll, towards the next destination.
Today we’re getting to know some of the major climbs from the Tour: Col de Marie Blanque, Col de Soudet, and a few other “anonymous” ones – that aren’t easier.
The weather seems as if it’s trying to show a welcoming face to the excited guests, and relieves us from the need to pay attention to it as we begin the first climb.
Col de Soudet begins at a 275m altitude, and 16km later it reaches 1540m. A non-violent average of about 8%, with some bits as steep as 11-12%. In a journey so long, you begin to understand that your true strength lies in the area above the neck, where the board meetings take place and where the important decisions are made. Should I keep paddling? Should I go all-out? Should I take things easy? Everyone “knows” the answer and everyone translates their respective ability to an appropriate action, even if sometimes they know the price for incorrect decisions can be heavy down the road.
And so we move through the steep ascents, climbing and sighing, moving forward or pausing, everything according to each cycler’s individual riding capacity. Some start with charging ahead, and it gets them past the next turn. Some start quietly and stay behind, and some are indifferent to the group and take the climb at a personal pace. Those, I must add, will end every route they start, and easily face down any difficulty.
The harder the climb is and the steeper the angle, the more the atmosphere grows quiet, which makes room for the sounds of breathing. Each cycler has a fixed, personal breathing DNA code, and you don’t need to look back or raise your head to know that Ilan or Eldad or Erez are dangerously nearby, and the thoughts start running wild: should I break the Board of Directors’ decision and try to align my pace, or should I stick with an ambiguous policy, hoping it would pay off down the road? It’s a war. War all the time. Not just activating the legs, keeping the breath in order, positioning the behind on the hard surface in a way that allows you to get by for many hours, but a mental fight for survival. Every moment of every hour.
We went up the Soudet and raced down the other side. This is what’s meant by ‘touch and go’. Been there, done that. The peak is of no interest (usually there’s nothing there), and everyone hurries to receive the payoff for the effort they put into getting up. Going down is a good time to catch your breath, judge how you did, and enjoy. Enjoy yourself. “I was good,” “I did it,” “I passed that one guy,” “I kept up with that lady,” “It’s less scary than I thought” etc. This is how it should be. You’re happy, you’re enjoying, you keep your head high and stick to a positive attitude.
At the end of the next climb our divine luck was gone, and a torrent descended on us. We went up in pouring rain, realizing we’ll have quite a few battles in this journey.
We arrived at a pizzeria in Larruns soaking wet, and did the 5km climb to our sweet hotel quietly, again. The laundry and dryer machines were working all night, and we quietly gathered to get ready for the next big day.

Day 3: The Tourmalet – The Wet Tour
Larruns Eaux-Bonnes – Col d’Aubisque – Col du Tourmalet – Ste. Marie Campan, 100km, 2,700m climb
Today we had ourselves a two-stage trap, made of two climbs that show much respect to one another. We’ll open with the day’s appetizer, Col d’Aubisque. Not a small bandit by any means, around 17km that will take us to 1700m altitude. Right after we get rid of another “tiny” peak called Col de Soulor, we’ll float down a rewarding drop to the feet of the next challenge in line, the Col de Tourmalet in all its glory. 15km of a temperate rise, followed by 18km paved in the sweat of anyone who considers themselves a road cycler. Here on the Tourmalet the Tour champions are determined, and the Tour de France runs through here twice this year. The road features supportive statements, especially for the Basque cyclers, as this is their kingdom.
The morning starts the way yesterday ended. Nonstop rain. Visibility is low and we’re kicking off hesitantly, and start to climb. The instructions given out prior to the trip included a directive to have a small bag ready, with some change of clothes, a swimsuit, a raincoat and so on. June in the Pyrenees is considered a fine time for weather here, for cycling particularly. On the time of our Cross-Pyrenees nobody had heard of that, and a new statistic was minted, especially for us. The spare clothes in our bags turned out to save this day.
The wet climb up brings us to the top, ready to change clothes for the first time. In the local coffee shop each person angles against the fireplace, trying to dry off a piece of shoe gone wet or a sock that can still be salvaged. Gulping hot chocolate and a lot of coffee, and we’re on our way down. The rain never stops. We’re moving ahead carefully. I’m uplifted. Something about the combination of the powers of nature and the heavenly bodies fills me with good energy, and properly clad, I swiftly make my way down and meet everyone at the local pizzeria for a short rest. A good pizza and… another set of clothes. Next up – the Tourmalet. In 2006 I was here a couple of times. True, I came from the other side, but I sweated a lot, I survived, and I learned to respect this giant. Today it’s a different story. It’s a war for survival that begins from the first very meter. The brave friends never blink, and soon everyone find themselves scattered along the way up. Climbing is hard, the peak cannot be seen, and we grind our teeth for each and every meter gained and for each turn taken. Whoever sports a Garmin on the handlebar can calculate what part of the road they went through, and how much road lies ahead. Whoever doesn’t have one is left at the mercy of his informed companions. Lack of information is sometimes a friend and sometimes a foe. Now it’s the enemy. You want it to end and you don’t know what to expect. The rain doesn’t stop, and the higher you climb the colder it becomes, and you are left with your thoughts. And everyone is aware that this is the third day out of eight. In short, a major battle for survival.
Everyone makes the top, stays there for the time it takes to change an outfit, and rush forward to end the day. Erez and I enjoy the rain immensely, but I know not everyone is partying, and I think about the thinner group member, who feel sorry for their bodies’ low fat ratio and are beside themselves with cold and pain.
It’s trippy in the hotel – whoever gets there jumps head-first to a boiling-hot bath tub, trying to soothe the body. Whoever is already out is lying in bed wrapped in blanket over blanket, hoping to get their body’s temperature back up. I make sure everyone is alive and try to get Issaschar out of the bath, with only partial success. The looks people have at dinner report of some degree of satisfaction from what we’ve achieved today, and some serious doubts about what’s coming.

Day 4: The Hardest Part Is Yet To Come
Ste. Marie Campan – Bagneres de Luchon – Col d’Sapin – Col de Peyresourde, 60km, 1,500m climb
It seems the folks upstairs decided that the message was delivered, and the group is well aware of who’s in charge and who decides about what’s what. And that they decided that what we had until now is enough. I’m talking about the weather, of course.
Today our route takes us through a lovely hot springs town, a very comfortable hotel in the true French style, and a rewarding and comforting dinner. On the way we “clean out” two peaks, including “Grandpa Peyresourde,” but nobody’s too impressed from the challenge. In the hotel, the clothes have all been washed and dried, and there’s a sense of relief. The 10,000m we have climbed already gives us a good sense of satisfaction, and sets our expectations about what’s next. We arrive early, take a walk, go shopping, have beer, and watch the World Cup on TV – the level of stress goes down a notch. We can breathe.

Day 5: Reuniting With My Love
Bagneres de Luchon – Col de Portillon – Col de Portet d’Aspet – St. Girons, 94km, 2,000m climb
Of course not everyone rested yesterday on our time off. Ox, who wasn’t here since he was wounded in 2006, Erez, Issaschar, Abigail, Uri, Zohar and myself hiked a little for a very moving meeting with Miriam, the kind little French lady that hosted us then, and was a part of the turmoil and sadness that summer, when my mother passed away.
But today is a new day and we’re off with renewed vigor.
After having climbed slightly over 10km (which is the altitude of planes in the sky…), we’re getting near the center of the Pyrenees range (Ariege), to a place where the Atlantic Ocean is forgotten and the Mediterranean spirit appears. Today is a nice day, properly spiced up.
We start climbing almost immediately, to Col de Portillon, on the Spanish border, then down to the village St. Beat.
The next target, Col de Mente, is one of the toughest. 10km at an 8.5% average!
As soon as that’s done, we go down an amazing, long decline, and as we hit the bottom we meet another bearable rise: Col de Portet d’Aspet, whose peak signals the beginning of the last descent down to the comforting hotel at St. Giron Ariege in the Central Pyrenees, a huge saddle-shape valley crossing from west to east. A concentration of simple, old villages, charming naïve locals, a multitude of rivers, thousands of shades of green, Alfonso, Miriam, Phillip and Niko, beloved people I have met over the years. Dear people who sheltered me with love and kindness, who fed me and my friends in good spirits, and who showed us the way with great care in these amazing routes. It is here that I come back to again and again in a magnetic pull that never ended.
Ariege in the Pyrenees – the love of my youth. I still miss it. I’ll be back.
Tomorrow we take a vacation. I’m planning a short ride to visit my friends.

Day 6: A Window To The Mediterranean Sea
St. Girons – Ax les Thermes, 113km, 2,100m climb
Yesterday’s respite gave the illusion of tranquility, but was most warranted. The clock is ticking, and off we go again.
Today we roll casually through the lovely townships of Ariege. We smell green fragrances, listen to the water of the Arac River, and drink morning coffee in the town of Massat before we start ascending towards Col de Port, on our way to Tarrascon, and from there in a charming “hanging” road we start to get close to the Mediterranean Sea. In the afternoon we’ll reach Les Thermes, a quiet hot springs town. To the east lie the Mediterranean Pyrenees. The day starts with about 30km of pleasant pedaling along the beautiful Arac River. Fishermen stand in the strong stream in tall boots, and seriously they throw their bait repeatedly, to stop the journey of a careless trout fish, make it change its course, so it can come along, to be served at home as dinner.
Massat is truly a buffer that separated us from an ever-nearer Mediterranean Sea, and relief is on everyone’s face.
Today is one of the prettiest days of the tour, and cycling through the “hanging” road between Tarrascon and Ax is one of the most stunning experiences there are. The Pyrenees are wild, pretty, innocent, strange and noble – just like the strange horses we seem to encounter frequently on the road.
A heavy fog descended on us in the last leg of the day, and we felt our way through the descent to the hotel.

Day 7: “Are You In Club Med?”
Ax – Port des Paphierres – Prades, 90km, 2,500m climb
I asked, begged and prayed that the morning would be kind to us and show us the pretty road, in what might be the toughest ascent of the entire trip.
Port des Paphierres. Not many people are familiar with it, but everyone is afraid of it. 18km of serpentine ascents, steep angles, and it never ends. Really, it doesn’t. Visibility is null and the rain never stops. Before the trip I kept my concerns about my ability to get the group through this impossible road to myself, and I chose a strategy of “realistic fear mongering,” with an emphasis on the need for both physical and mental preparations. On the other hand, I cheered everyone at every opportunity, and gave them strength in the belief that everything lies in the legs and in the head. By now I was beyond calm. Seeing a group of 18 men and women, some of them past their prime, go through such a hazardous route filled with complicated challenges in an enviable camaraderie, quietly grinding their teeth without complaining, and all the time acting as a team, was the “payment” I received for the effort in organizing this trip.
Now, on the Paphierres, I was momentarily out of confidence. I made sure a strong cycler was riding last, and tried to maintain contact with Garret, our dedicated escort, and with anyone else I could find on the road. Saying we couldn’t see our own nose was a pretty good description of how it went.
At a certain point in the middle of the route, when the legs scream for help, the pulse is high, the foggy breath melts into the surrounding and the heart is beating fast, I hear a voice – completely obscured but coming from nearby. It’s a bellowing shout, rolling like a 32-wheel truck, in the familiar sound of my friend Vino: “Pedal harder, you hear, are you in Club Med?”
The tense stillness was broken, making room for a burst of laughter. The chest expanded, the heart opened, and a huge smile spread across my face. This statement was everything I could wish for at that moment. It was the ultimate proof that humor trumps everything, and that my people, not so young anymore, as we’ve said, still have the constitution and state of mind to bring about such a joke. It was Vino, the 64 years old senior citizen sub-group representative, a senior surgeon and the head of a hospital department, who with a legendary group of 60+ year olds never ceased to amaze us with their ability and tenacity, while at the same time bring us to tears from laughter through teasing and their inside jokes. If Vino, in such a difficult situation, can come up with such an effective encouragement call to our friend Leshem, it means nothing can break us. Not even the miserable shack at the end of the ascent, where we huddled, freezing, for a last change of clothes before the long way down.
In the beginning of the descent my prayer was at last answered – only several hours delayed. The fog cleared, the rain stopped, making room for many kilometers of grace, a magical horizon, easy climbs to more viewpoints, and one ravishing descent of more than 30km, that brought the distance between us and the Mediterranean Sea down to just 100km. We finished the before-last day, and no one – and I mean, no one – could hide their victorious smiles on the way to dinner in the sweet town of Prades.

Day 8: The Story Ends
Prades – Colliure, 113km, 1,400m climb
This is the last cycling day. A sense of victory mixed with regret. Yes, it’s going to end. Whoever survived (everyone did) keeps their head high and flashes a hesitant smile of personal achievement. We won’t be broken today. Today we say goodbye to the mountains, and “slide” down to the sea through a stunning view. On the way we come to terms with the last “problem,” Col de Palomere, and end in the picturesque town Colliure.
There’s no rain today. But there’s a wind that makes sure we don’t fly too close to the sun… Nobody cares about it too much. It’s not a long day, it’s not supposed to be difficult, and nobody really wants to end this (wet) dream. We act out a little, like in the champagne rides of the Tour’s last day in the Champs Elise. Picking fruits on the way, tell stories, joke around and enjoy every moment.
At 2:37PM, making the last turn and doing the last meter of climbing, as the road stretched southeast, came the moment I was waiting for four long years – I was never so moved to see the Mediterranean Sea as I was at this moment. The blue color showing through the road’s folds seemed like a velvet carpet, and took my breath away completely. I stopped by the side of the road, took a deep breath, blew a kiss to my mother and told her: Mom, we did it.
In Colliure we had the best beer in the world, ate the best pizza in the world, and sat on the world’s most comfortable easy chair – by the world’s most beautiful pier.

It’s over.
825km in total, and 18,250m of ascent.
I thank my dear friends, who accompany me for the past ten years, helping me make my dreams come true – even if some of them are a bit far-fetched… you are my alternative family and I love you with all my heart.

Bicycle Hebrew
A collection of phrases Vino collected over time
Free Cannon – riding by your own pace, a fast one (opposite to: Hold Your Horses)
“Abandona” Conspiracy – Leaving a cycler behind
Kwa-kwa! – a surprise call made when passing someone, usually made by someone weaker, who is just waiting to prey on you
Are You In Club Med? – a much-needed encouragement call
Ride Harder, Flexible Guy – instruction given when the speed is high and energies low. Usually directed at Ox.
Double Glazin’ – cycling with two or more coats in a bad weather
DNFing – acronym for Didn’t Finish, ending the day on the escort car
Cottage Cheese Fat Ratio – Describing the steepness angle
Went Civil – changing back to regular clothes
Skull Reception – Leaving a new rider behind
Axe – a new rider with surprising skills
Three Seniors – Ox, Ben-Ner and Vino, the grumpy old muppet clowns with the kindergarten mentality. Three men ages 64-65 who are Super-cyclers, funny as hell, and are responsible for everyone’s good moods. You

lothar leder former ironman world champion with a 7:57 amazing record has confirmed his participation in the 2010 ironbach challenge together with a group of german athletes.

mr leder said that he considers israel as one of his favorites places to race and visit.

max leli former italian champion winne of tour of tuscany,tour of portugal,2 stages at the giro d`italia is considering thisyear`s ironbach challenge together with a group of his teammates.

Mr.leli was here 3 times before and said that he is always happy to “come back to this beautiful part of the world and to old friends”

In February 2005 I joined a group of friends on a 3 day bike ride from Afula to Eilat, in Israel. At the time it was the longest trip I had gone on in Israel, and I fell in love with the experience of covering so much ground and beauty in such a short amount of time. I decided, in typical fashion, to raise the bar, which is how the Ironbach journey was born – a captivating riding experience from coast to sea to coast and then to another sea; from the Mediterranean to the Red Sea (passing through the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea on the way).

The route passes through the most beautiful roads in Israel with an emphasis on non-central roads with little traffic, and covers all of Israel’s borders – from Lebanon in the North, Syria in the Northeast, Jordan in the East and Egypt in the West. The trip starts at Rosh Hanikra on the Mediterranean coast, through the Golan Heights (towards the Sea of Galillee) and then south towards the Dead Sea with the lowest altitude in the world, following by an upward ride towards Mitzpe Ramon and finally, Eilat, the most Southern city in Israel.

This year will mark Ironbach’s 5 year anniversary, and will include new sights and routes, alongside past favorites such as the North road, the uphill rides to Menara and Mount Hermon – encompassing 750km, 8,500 meters ascent and 5 full days.

Ironbach 5 (2010) will also be the first international Ironbach, including riders from Italy, Germany, Canada and the US.

the trip is escorted by a bus,2 cars,a doctor,paramedics and bike guides and is approved and authorized by both the israeli policeand army authorities

Number of days: 5

Type of trip: point to point

Difficulty: 4

Date: November 3^rd

Alpe D’Huez, Col du Galibier, La Grande Marmotte, Col D’Ornon, Col de la Croix de Fer, Lake Annecy, Talloires (the lakeside town which is home to Lance Armstrong’s team every year), fine French cuisine, pleasant hotels, “Chocolate Chaud”, and unbelievable fun – this is what we’ll experience during our 9 days in the French Alps and Lake Annecy, near Geneva, Switzerland.

Accommodation in 3 star hotels.

The trip lasts for 9 days (of which 7 are full riding days).

Date: September 2010.

Alpe D’Huez, Col du Galibier, La Grande Marmotte, Col D’Ornon, Col de la Croix de Fer, Lake Annecy, Talloires (the lakeside town which is home to Lance Armstrong’s team every year), fine French cuisine, pleasant hotels, “Chocolate Chaud”, and unbelievable fun – this is what we’ll experience during our 9 days in the French Alps and Lake Annecy, near Geneva, Switzerland.

Accommodation in 3 star hotels.

The trip lasts for 9 days (of which 7 are full riding days).

Date: September 2010.

What can one say about Tuscany that has not already been written? Even so, there is something magical in arriving on your bike to Sienna’s piaza or the Duomo in Florence, riding between the classic villages and visiting magnificent vineyards and beautiful farmlands in the Chianti country, ride up the steep and difficult track to 2000 meter high Apuane Alps mountain range, and buy local cheese in Pienza or Monte Poliziano.

Accommodation in a beautiful private farm in the heart of the Chianti country.

The trip lasts for 8 days (of which 6 are full riding days).

Date: End of May/June, September

Piemonte? Where the hell is Piemonte? That is exactly what I asked when a friend suggested that  we travel to bike there. But though I travelled as a sceptic, I returned hypnotized by the beauty and plentiful riches in the Piemonte region… Piemonte is the land of wine, restaurants, scenery and simplicity. We were hosted by a couple in family accommodation (which has been running for several decades), who offered endless help, generous meals and a view from the pool yard which has justly served as inspiration for generations of artists. In the afternoons, after riding, a swim in the gorgeous pool is not only possible, but highly recommended.

September, when the trip takes place, is the annual grape harvest, abundant with local festivities – elderly Italian farmers transporting their goods in ancient tractors, the vineyards bursting with perfect grapes and the bustle of winemaking is in full-swing. Riding between the farms and vineyards includes stops at local cafes, all in

We set out riding each day to a different direction, including a visit to Aqui Therme (the City of hot springs) with a massage and thermal pool treatment, and if desired, an extremely challenging ride in Col D’Agnello (which includes a killer incline for those who enjoy pain!).

Accommodation in a lovely family-run hotel.

The trip lasts for 7 days (of which 5 are full riding days).

Date: September 2010