Foghat
Freight-train-groove-rider
French Alps circa 1989, on a pass-storming tour avec velo et voiture (i.e. sans panniers, beard or any kind of touring paraphernalia).
Serre Chevalier youth hostel near Briancon. One of those ultra-rare, special float days when you frighten yourself with your own strength.
Climbing specialist friend only feeling up to one big climb that day, but despite the previous day's efforts racing a group of elite French racing cyclists up and down the Izoard, my legs are positively aquiver with energy and anticipation of the joys of 30+degree valley heat and the prospect of high altitude exertions, blitzkrieging descents and spectacular views of the La Meije mountain and glaciers in the Massif des Ecrins range, not to mention the Mistral wind barrelling down the valley. So I elect for the nearby second-toughest-climb-in-the-French-Alps Col de Granon for a morning ride and the Galibier via Lautaret for the afternoon while he takes a day off.
Now the Granon is a real brute - see the consistently high percentages on the profile. Lowest gear 42x23, so a lot of out-of-the-saddle involved, but no difficulty and feeling good. Overtake lone female French racing cyclist training hard about three-quarters of the way up, but despite the temptation to chat I motor on as feeling so good, and I'm trying to impress the hoards of admiring spectators (ok, trying to impress myself) with a fast ascent. All too soon the summit appears, with expansive northward views across the military area forming the hinterland. I nose about for a bit, and it's still very warm at 2,413 m elevation, so no need to get back down, but the tarmac road quickly becomes dirt track, so a northern descent is impossible, and anyway it would send me miles from the Galibier. Then some 4x4 off-roaders turn up and start crawling all over the steep roadside slopes. By now, and to plan
, the French girl arrives and seems quite keen to talk, so I end up descending with her.....and what a frustrating descent it was. Now I like to descend at full-on TDF speed, and the Granon being steep has some VERY fast sections (although much of it is very technical), especially where the Mistral was on your back. So the dilemma is: descend slowly on the brakes with French girl and line up some action, or go for some Avocet speedometer max speed record attempts. Needless to say the speed attempts won out, and off I went; 58mph achieved I think - not my record as the steep bits are not long enough between hairpins, but pretty good.
So I arrive back at the hostel to see our previous day's Izoard combatants heading off for a fast assault on the Galibier (their only climb that day). Me? Well I stop at the hostel for a spot of lunch (a quick sandwich) before leaving about 40 minutes after the Frenchies. Despite the incredible headwind all the way up the long, gradual eastern Lautaret ascent, I'm still motoring well, and spy another 'proper' rider in the distance. Setting him as a target, I plough on and catch him 2km from the Lautaret summit; then, 1km before the summit, he gets off into a waiting car at a layby! "What the bloody hell's the point of that?" I wonder as I turn right up the Galibier for the main ascent. By this time, the lunch carbohydrates are beginning to work, and its 42x19/21 all the way to the top, apart from the steep bits around the Henri Desgrange memorial. About 2km from the top, I meet the Frenchies descending. We stop briefly to chat, and they are astounded to see how much I caught them up, as they say they were giving it some themselves into that wind - effectively racing each other up and hadn't hung around up the top for more than about five minutes, and they were elites remember!! So I set off with renewed vigour, arrive at the barren, rocky summit, get some photos in of the Meije and the views down the northern side before commencing the incredible descent.
This descent was one of those episodes that stay in the mind forever. The section to the Lautaret summit was in turns blinding and desperately difficult with the wind direction changing with each turn in the road. But after turning east at the Lautaret, well.......twelve miles back to Serre Chevalier in under fourteen minutes!!
One of the most exhilarating experiences of my life and to this day I shake my head with the wonder of it as I overtook EVERYTHING including motorbikes. The wind on my back just drove me forward, and anyone who knows that road will recall the long sweeping bends where you can retain full throttle on the good surface, no lifting, but there's enough curve to really feel those g-forces and to detect the Open CXs on the brink of losing adhesion whilst taking a line of black-fume-emitting and burning-brakepad-smelling Renaults/Peugeots. Quite extraordinary, and a feat sadly not really ever repeated. So in the same day one of my best ever displays of climbing prowess and the most outstanding descent of my life. Needless to say, I was unable to replicate such scintillating form on the next ride, and our race to the top of the Alpe the next day resulted in our usual sprint for the line, and he really made me work for it; in fact I think he won.
The best part was the look on the French riders' faces (did I mention they were elites?) as I caught them on the approach to the hostel, having made up nearly forty minutes in the climb and descent. They refused to believe I had carried on to the summit of the Galibier after our encounter 2km from the top, as they thought they were doing the descent flat out, and my French wasn't good enough to convince them I had. Oh well.......
Some web photos for those curious to know what these places look like:
View north at top of the Col de Granon:
Looking down the Granon descent to Serre Chevalier:
La Meije and the Massif des Ecrins from above the Lautaret:
Serre Chevalier youth hostel near Briancon. One of those ultra-rare, special float days when you frighten yourself with your own strength.
Climbing specialist friend only feeling up to one big climb that day, but despite the previous day's efforts racing a group of elite French racing cyclists up and down the Izoard, my legs are positively aquiver with energy and anticipation of the joys of 30+degree valley heat and the prospect of high altitude exertions, blitzkrieging descents and spectacular views of the La Meije mountain and glaciers in the Massif des Ecrins range, not to mention the Mistral wind barrelling down the valley. So I elect for the nearby second-toughest-climb-in-the-French-Alps Col de Granon for a morning ride and the Galibier via Lautaret for the afternoon while he takes a day off.
Now the Granon is a real brute - see the consistently high percentages on the profile. Lowest gear 42x23, so a lot of out-of-the-saddle involved, but no difficulty and feeling good. Overtake lone female French racing cyclist training hard about three-quarters of the way up, but despite the temptation to chat I motor on as feeling so good, and I'm trying to impress the hoards of admiring spectators (ok, trying to impress myself) with a fast ascent. All too soon the summit appears, with expansive northward views across the military area forming the hinterland. I nose about for a bit, and it's still very warm at 2,413 m elevation, so no need to get back down, but the tarmac road quickly becomes dirt track, so a northern descent is impossible, and anyway it would send me miles from the Galibier. Then some 4x4 off-roaders turn up and start crawling all over the steep roadside slopes. By now, and to plan
, the French girl arrives and seems quite keen to talk, so I end up descending with her.....and what a frustrating descent it was. Now I like to descend at full-on TDF speed, and the Granon being steep has some VERY fast sections (although much of it is very technical), especially where the Mistral was on your back. So the dilemma is: descend slowly on the brakes with French girl and line up some action, or go for some Avocet speedometer max speed record attempts. Needless to say the speed attempts won out, and off I went; 58mph achieved I think - not my record as the steep bits are not long enough between hairpins, but pretty good.So I arrive back at the hostel to see our previous day's Izoard combatants heading off for a fast assault on the Galibier (their only climb that day). Me? Well I stop at the hostel for a spot of lunch (a quick sandwich) before leaving about 40 minutes after the Frenchies. Despite the incredible headwind all the way up the long, gradual eastern Lautaret ascent, I'm still motoring well, and spy another 'proper' rider in the distance. Setting him as a target, I plough on and catch him 2km from the Lautaret summit; then, 1km before the summit, he gets off into a waiting car at a layby! "What the bloody hell's the point of that?" I wonder as I turn right up the Galibier for the main ascent. By this time, the lunch carbohydrates are beginning to work, and its 42x19/21 all the way to the top, apart from the steep bits around the Henri Desgrange memorial. About 2km from the top, I meet the Frenchies descending. We stop briefly to chat, and they are astounded to see how much I caught them up, as they say they were giving it some themselves into that wind - effectively racing each other up and hadn't hung around up the top for more than about five minutes, and they were elites remember!! So I set off with renewed vigour, arrive at the barren, rocky summit, get some photos in of the Meije and the views down the northern side before commencing the incredible descent.
This descent was one of those episodes that stay in the mind forever. The section to the Lautaret summit was in turns blinding and desperately difficult with the wind direction changing with each turn in the road. But after turning east at the Lautaret, well.......twelve miles back to Serre Chevalier in under fourteen minutes!!
One of the most exhilarating experiences of my life and to this day I shake my head with the wonder of it as I overtook EVERYTHING including motorbikes. The wind on my back just drove me forward, and anyone who knows that road will recall the long sweeping bends where you can retain full throttle on the good surface, no lifting, but there's enough curve to really feel those g-forces and to detect the Open CXs on the brink of losing adhesion whilst taking a line of black-fume-emitting and burning-brakepad-smelling Renaults/Peugeots. Quite extraordinary, and a feat sadly not really ever repeated. So in the same day one of my best ever displays of climbing prowess and the most outstanding descent of my life. Needless to say, I was unable to replicate such scintillating form on the next ride, and our race to the top of the Alpe the next day resulted in our usual sprint for the line, and he really made me work for it; in fact I think he won.The best part was the look on the French riders' faces (did I mention they were elites?
) as I caught them on the approach to the hostel, having made up nearly forty minutes in the climb and descent. They refused to believe I had carried on to the summit of the Galibier after our encounter 2km from the top, as they thought they were doing the descent flat out, and my French wasn't good enough to convince them I had. Oh well....... Some web photos for those curious to know what these places look like:
View north at top of the Col de Granon:
Looking down the Granon descent to Serre Chevalier:
La Meije and the Massif des Ecrins from above the Lautaret:
