Alpe D'Huez
Tracey and I checked in to the B&B. Being in France there was nothing more to it than settling down for a plate of cheese and red wine as a night cap. Tomorrow? Well that looked like rain, and a lot of it, and we had our first climb planned!
Tracey, of course, is my trusted Trek. We've been to many parts together, covering many miles and this was our return trip to a part of the Alps that is synonymous with great cycling. Along with our friends, we were determined to get some good riding in.
Tracey, of course, is my trusted Trek. We've been to many parts together, covering many miles and this was our return trip to a part of the Alps that is synonymous with great cycling. Along with our friends, we were determined to get some good riding in.
Sunday morning broke. The weather, though, definitely hadn't. Our landlady, Caroline, said there had been a massive storm during the night. Well, we hadn't noticed as we were dead to the world!
We pootled about and by the time we had done that, and with a forecast of only 40% chance of rain in the afternoon, we decided to get ready and brave it. At the time we thought we were real hardcore, but as it turned out it was the right decision as the clouds broke and the sun started to blast its way through, the roads drying quicker than Mark Cavendish finishes a sprint.
So, off we set for Alpe D'Huez. A lovely, long, gradual descent on the road from Venosc was a nice way to shake the bikes down and then onto the famous long flattish straight back to Bourg d'Oisans. Bourg of course is nestled at the foot of Alpe D'Huez and once here the reality of the next hour or so, and thirteen kilometres of hell really hit home.
The last time I cycled this it was mid thirty degrees and I cooked and bonked and ended up with the hydration of death valley. I was determined not end up the same way, so helmet off, shirt unzipped and much more hydration than I could dream of had been consumed.
The last time I cycled this it was mid thirty degrees and I cooked and bonked and ended up with the hydration of death valley. I was determined not end up the same way, so helmet off, shirt unzipped and much more hydration than I could dream of had been consumed.
And off we go. The climb is marked with 21 hairpins, all of which are named after famous riders. The first four or five are a test. A real test. This section is steep. Actually, it's all steep, but this bit is the steepest and it hurts. The calves and thighs start burning and with long gaps between switchbacks there seems no respite.
I get to turn 18 (translated to only the third switchback) and think about how far it is to go. Hey, it's only thirteen kilometres to the top but it will seem like two hundred miles! I grind out a rhythm. Tracey, of course, is spinning like a sewing machine. The sun now is fully out and it's getting pretty damn hot. The arm warmers are already off but I'm wishing I could peel a layer of skin off to cool down. The helmet had already been forfeited but it feels like it's still on my head.
With only small respite, of seemingly only seconds on the turns, the climb is relentless. My legs continue to burn. I pass people sat on the wall having a breather. I'm determined to do this without stopping - me and this mountain have a score to settle! But it's only turn 13 and it feels like I've been climbing for hours. The drink is disappearing fast. Are my bottles leaking? I ponder.
Not even half way and it's not getting any easier. Just keep the pace going... Whippet riders zip past, some continue to rest on the bends, taking in the views. Some seemingly enjoying it, some obviously not. I am determined not to stop, that is my challenge. I'll take the photos on the way down, I think to myself.
I then see turn ten. Finally half way. But of course these aren't mile markers, they have no relevance on distance, just switchbacks!! I get down to single figures. Ten to nine seems to take hours to do. I miss seeing eight completely. Then seven and then six. My thoughts flow back to our recce and seeing Huez churchyard and joking that was there specifically for rider fails? Now it felt real. It felt like it was time to join them.
I hit the turn to Villard Reculas at exactly an hour, but still we climb. The few pedal turns on the switchbacks are not giving any rest now.
I get to turn 18 (translated to only the third switchback) and think about how far it is to go. Hey, it's only thirteen kilometres to the top but it will seem like two hundred miles! I grind out a rhythm. Tracey, of course, is spinning like a sewing machine. The sun now is fully out and it's getting pretty damn hot. The arm warmers are already off but I'm wishing I could peel a layer of skin off to cool down. The helmet had already been forfeited but it feels like it's still on my head.
With only small respite, of seemingly only seconds on the turns, the climb is relentless. My legs continue to burn. I pass people sat on the wall having a breather. I'm determined to do this without stopping - me and this mountain have a score to settle! But it's only turn 13 and it feels like I've been climbing for hours. The drink is disappearing fast. Are my bottles leaking? I ponder.Not even half way and it's not getting any easier. Just keep the pace going... Whippet riders zip past, some continue to rest on the bends, taking in the views. Some seemingly enjoying it, some obviously not. I am determined not to stop, that is my challenge. I'll take the photos on the way down, I think to myself.
I then see turn ten. Finally half way. But of course these aren't mile markers, they have no relevance on distance, just switchbacks!! I get down to single figures. Ten to nine seems to take hours to do. I miss seeing eight completely. Then seven and then six. My thoughts flow back to our recce and seeing Huez churchyard and joking that was there specifically for rider fails? Now it felt real. It felt like it was time to join them.
I hit the turn to Villard Reculas at exactly an hour, but still we climb. The few pedal turns on the switchbacks are not giving any rest now.
Onto the long straight into Alpe D'Huez to the first finish line, but of course that's not the official one, that's another one kilometre. Through the short tunnel and then climb again, through the village, switch left and then try and do a Cav to the line. It's up hill of course and I find something in my legs to go for it. I cross the line. I'm spent. But I made it.
With my mission accomplished, I roll back down to the cafe and join the throngs of other cyclists, sit down and order a coffee. Russ appears out of the crowd, orders a Sprite ("be back in a minute...") and cracks on to the top. Dave is somewhere in between and they manage to meet at the finish and then join me back up at the cafe. The sun is glowing, we are are glowing. A job well done. We take it all in over a drink and watch the other cyclists arriving. Tracey resting her wares amongst the other bikes like horses tied up outside a saloon bar.
And still they arrive, all with different looks on their faces. Elation, anguish, bravado, determination or all of it at once. Looks that I undoubtedly had in the duration of my climb. We think about setting off, my back is still aching, but decide on a beer first. Well we hadn't celebrated had we and we think we deserved the one?
And still they arrive, all with different looks on their faces. Elation, anguish, bravado, determination or all of it at once. Looks that I undoubtedly had in the duration of my climb. We think about setting off, my back is still aching, but decide on a beer first. Well we hadn't celebrated had we and we think we deserved the one?
Unfortunately, before we knew it we were at the bottom. Over in a flash but exhilarating and so worth doing.
Now, with us all being qualified Pro Cyclists, we thought our work was done. But of course we had forgotten something; the ride back to the B&B, or rather the other climb! Of course if you can free wheel for five miles at thirty/forty mph on the way down means only one thing: It's going to be painful going back up, especially after doing Alpe D'Huez. Boy, that was a real shock to the system, but eventually we crawled back to where we started. Roll on supper and roll on an ice cold beer. Tomorrow? Well that would be another challenge.
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In the meanwhile, here's the descent recorded by Russ on his posh Garmin camera thingy:
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Stats from the days ride:
Average speed: 10.2mph.
Max speed: 41.5 mph
Total Ride Time: 3 hrs 10 mins
Distance: 33 miles
