Wheeling on top of the world

On a warm summer morning last year, three riders from Hong Kong, me, and 600 other eager cyclists gathered on the shores of Lake Geneva in Switzerland. The riders, from 22 countries, were of varying age categories, genders, and cycling backgrounds.

In front of us lay the Haute Route, billed as "the toughest and highest 'cyclosportive' in the world": seven days, 780 kilometres, 19 famous cols (mountain passes) and 21,000 metres of climbing in the Alps, with the finish line at Nice's famous Promenade des Anglais on the Mediterranean coast of France.

The cyclosportive is to cycling what the marathon is to running. It's a long-distance, mass participation event which, for most, is a personal battle against distance and the clock, rather than a race. Completion is an achievement in itself.

Spirits were high on that first morning. Competitors had obviously done their training: they looked fit, tanned, lean and ready for the challenge. The warm conditions were ideal for our pre-dawn ride out of Geneva. We paused momentarily when the starting gun fired, to admire the beauty of Lake Geneva for one last time.

The warmth of that first morning became a baking hot European summer with the relentless, dehydrating heat. It was persistent, and only interrupted twice, by icy-cold Alpine storms that had us reaching for thermal clothing as the evening approached.

The Haute Route event was incredibly well organised. Water and feeding stations were plentiful and hundreds of volunteer road traffic marshals lined the route. Official motorcycle escorts ushered us along a safe passage. Each town, village and city we whizzed through came out to clap, cheer and support us. The atmosphere was amazing, and we felt like riders in the real Tour de France.