Day 9-Guillestre – Barcellonette
70km
2,041m ascent
At some point in the night it started raining so I had to zip myself in, leaving a small opening to try and expel my moist breath and avoid condensation. I could feel the cold of the rain as it fell against my cheek, separated only by a thin layer of material. It was still drizzling as morning came and for a long time I considered staying put for the day, before getting my act together. I waited for the rain to abate before springing up and packing in record time.
Once I pushed my bike to the edge of the field I was already on the climb, and so I began the start of a 19 km uphill ride without any sort of warm up, apart from the gymnastics required to get dressed without leaving the cocoon of a bivvy bag. 5km in it occurred to me that I didn’t have any water, having made the fairly rash decision to forego going into Guillestre for supplies. I’m a bit of a camel at the best of times but today I was suffering, with limbs that hadn’t woken up and a dry throat. I plodded on and overtook a group of tourers in sandals, carrying heavy loads. I didn’t envy them.
Somewhere up the hill, there was an massive field sprinkler, turning in a circle, drenching the crops and road alternately. Fortunately I managed to time my riding to pass it as it was facing the opposite direction. A small victory on this testing day. The hills and trees around me were shrouded in mist and clouds, but I imagine it was lovely view.
Further up, I overtook another rider on her own with barely any luggage but riding a heavy full suspension bike. Soon after, just as I was really starting to feel incredibly thirsty and considering asking her if I could have some water, I spotted a water source and we both topped up whilst having a little chat. She was riding from her home in Martigny to Nice over the highest pass in the alps (Col de la Bonette) to meet some friends.
I carried on and by the time I got to the top, which had a landscape that looked like a golf course, I was soaked through. I wasn’t wearing a jacket as this would just result in being drenched in sweat rather than rain water. Before descending, the jacket went on and I set off somewhat more carefully than the previous night. I’m not a fan of wet roads and hairpin bends. 10 minutes in and I was feeling chilly. 20 minutes in and I was actually having to fight the need to shiver, occasionally succumbing to a jolt of involuntary movement that caused me to veer across the road. My lower back muscles began to ache from the tension bought upon them from being cold. I wanted a nice uphill to warm up on. I kept going, not relishing the thought of unpacking my fleece buried deep in my bag whilst being rained on. Km passed whilst constantly looking for some sort of cover to get out of the elements. Eventually a bus stop provided a bit of shelter and I threw on my fleece before heading into Barcellonette for a delicious burger and couple of cappuccinos in the town square, gradually warming back up to a normal temperature. I can testify that food always taste incredible during or after some sort mammoth effort.
Thankfully it stopped raining and the sky cleared up a bit whilst I was preoccupied with eating and drinking. I checked into a hotel on the square (the Choucas) and got a huge room with two double beds for a bargain price of 60 euros. I knew a town called Pra Loup was just 10km away and provided a great hill top stage finish at this years Tour de France. I couldn’t resist and left all of my luggage at the hotel before storming up to Pra Loup and back down as quickly as I could. The difference it made riding the bike with no luggage was massive. I felt like a pro, especially descending in a super tucked position. I didn’t get anywhere near the pro’s times though – Froome is safe for now.
The age old conundrum of what to do after I washed my only clothes presented itself back at the hotel. I had a bath along with all of my kit and then spent the remainder of the night spread eagled over the bed listening to the sound of the town getting incredibly drunk in the square, whilst I watched a French soap, making up a story to match the pictures and my scant ability to understand French.