Day 8-Saint Michel de Maurienne – Guillestre
106km
3,572m ascent
I woke to a chilly morning but blue skies. There was a thrashing around in the bushes behind me and a cheery French man emerged to retrieve the plums that had fallen to the floor, awaiting death by jam. I gave him my most pleasant bonjour and he said something about picking a nice spot. Or at least that’s what I assumed. I laid my gear out in the morning sun to dry off the dew and after massive amounts of procrastination, meticulously packed it to keep it as dense as possible.
The plan for today was an ascent of the highest col of the trip, namely Col du Galibier followed by a night in Briancon. The biggest climb and shortest day, although, in hindsight I’d completely overestimated how much time and energy it would take. To get to Col du Galibier you first have to ride to the top of Col du Telegraphe at 1566m. The ascent starts as you leave the town when you ride under the motorway bridge, then continues winding its way up the hillside for 12km through the trees. There were many people out on bikes and I enjoyed the camaraderie between most of them with many nods, and exhanges of “bonjour” and “allez allez”. I slowed and had a chat with a couple of guys from New Zealand who were over on a guided trip. They definitely had me in the ‘crazy Brit’ box by the time I pressed on to top where I was greeted by a huge straw figure riding a bike.
There is then a hasty descent into the Valloire valley through a town before a long false flat leads you up to a more isolated part of the road with few bends. Eventually, just when you think the road can’t possibly cross the wall of mountains you are riding towards, the road turns back on itself and starts switch backing its way up again, before you reach another flatter portion with the summit looking tantalisingly close, across a small valley. I eventually drew closer and the final push to the summit felt steep to the point of having no choice but to be ‘in the red’. Fortunately it wasn’t long lasting and shortly afterwards I was standing on top of the col. To my north I could see the road winding its way down and disappearing to the Valloire valley, and Mont Blanc some way off in the distance. To the south the mighty north face of the Barre Des Ecrins (a 4000m mountain on my to do list) looked impressive but not very welcoming after a warm summer. I suddenly had a longing to be crunching my way along a moonlit glacier in the cold of the night. Instead I was up here sweating my nuts off after 3 hours of riding up hill.
A rapid and fairly tricky descent from the summit to the Col de Lautaret took some concentration due to the rough road and proximity of cars and cows. I continued down towards Briancon on a relatively flat wide road stopping for a nap at a blue lake next to a meadow and overlooked by mountain tops. Beauty. Once in Briancon, early afternoon, I checked out the old town and attempted to get myself some food and beer. The beer was great but the chef who appeared to be the French version of Alan Yentob, completely forgot about the food. In the meantime I checked the weather and discovered the forecast for the night and following day were not the best. Thunderstorms. Bad news. This meant I could potentially lose a day in the saddle as I didn’t particularly want to be 2000m up a mountain riding a lightning conductor.
After a guy doing the Transcontinental Race came over to have chat. (He wasn’t doing too well), I felt inspired to ride one more col. This would help take some pressure off if the following day was a write off, and there was still loads of hours left in the day. So with that, I finished my beer, grabbed a baguette from the supermarket and headed for the hills. Next up was Col d’Izoard which started with a gentle ride through a narrow valley before emerging at a bit of a meadow and then into a windy tree lined road where all the local flies like to hang out with cyclists. All of the time I was racing the setting sun which was ducking down behind the mountains. Eventually near the top, the road was lit up and I emerged into the light at 2100m after 1. 5 hours.
The south side of the col is an extraordinary world of sandstone and precipitous cliffs. A compete contrast to the north side and fitting of the name Casse Dessert. I suddenly felt isolated as looking south looked like a mountainous wild west with no sign of civilisation. I had only seen one car on the way up and I pondered what would happen if I hit the deck whilst descending or plummeted over one of the edges.
Fortunately the irrational part of my brain piped down as soon as I started the descent and I was promptly having the most fun I’d ever had on a bike, at eye watering speeds. I dropped quickly back below the tree line and soon the road followed a river with a steep wall on one side and scree slopes on the other, occasionally interrupted by tunnels hewn into the rock . Eventually I got to Guillestre at the foot of Col d’ Vars. By this time the clouds had blackened and I knew what was coming as I watched ominous clouds roll in from the west, slowly turning the dusk to darkness. I found a field off to the side of the road at the bottom of the next climb and made camp for the night. As I lay awake there was plenty of thunder that shook the floor and lightning that briefly illuminated the trees around me, but fortunately no rain. 4 cols in 2 days. It felt good.
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