Spain and France 2011: And to the Alps!

The day after we climbed Mont Ventoux was a ride through Provencal apricot orchards and over 3 small passes. It was hot.

We stopped in La Motte Chalacon to have an icecream and use the wifi at the café. Eventually we ended up deciding to stay at the campground there, as there didn’t appear to be any campgrounds until at least 30km up the road and over another pass.

The next day we got up early as we had a big pass (Col du Rossett) to tackle later in the day, and we didn’t want to be climbing it in the hot afternoon sun. We got up at six and were on the road by seven. It was our earliest start thus far. I really enjoy being out on the road when there is still the crispiness of the remains of dawn in the air. The boulangerie was open and cosily warm compared with outside.

We made quick work of the first 50km to Die (yes, a town called Die) – we arrived before 10:30am and bought lunch at a boulangerie. The fuel tanks were filled to overflowing by our early lunch and we were ready to climb col de Rossett. It was a 900m climb up to an alpine plateau. It was a great ride because of all the switchbacks; the only downside was the motorcyclists. The ones riding in packs seem to be the most reckless – they would ride down the mountain road towards us; leaning side to side as they took the corners as fast as they could, often crossing the centreline. One motorcyclist was so far on our side of the road he was within a metre of us.

At the top of col du Rossett we had a celebratory Magnum at one of the ski cafes. What drew us to choose that particular café was the big pink outdoor sofa. We remembered the last time we’d sat on a sofa was back when we stayed with Alex in Biarritz! Happily settled into our sofa and enjoying the warm alpine sunshine we ordered a pichet of red wine.

An hour and half after arriving we slightly reluctantly left the sofa and joined the bikes again. It was a lovely ride along alpine meadows to Vassieux-en-Vercours where we stayed at the Camping Les Pins.

The next day we cycled to St Jean en Royans via the spectacular Combe Laval. We didn’t know what a Combe was so didn’t have any idea what was in store for us. We rounded a bend in the road and suddenly we were on the edge of a limestone-walled valley with plunging sides. The narrow road was carved into the limestone.

After seven weeks of intensive training (aka our cycle tour thus far); I think we are as ready as we are ever going to be for what I think will be the pinnacle of our trip – The French Alps. We are heading to Grenoble; from there to the Alps.

We were meeting Eric in St Jean en Royans. I met Eric in 2005 when I stayed with him in Belgium through Warmshowers. He had given me some tips for this trip; then one day emailed and asked if he could join us for a week. I warned Julie we would end up on a ‘mini diet’ while Eric was with us as I’m sure he wouldn’t eat nearly as much as we do!

The downhill to St Jean en Royans was magic, losing about 1000m in minutes. We set up camp and were lazing in the sun reading when Eric turned up on his touring bike. He’d had a big day – he had stayed up most of the night packing; and replacing bicycle parts. He hadn’t been on his bike since last summer. Then his car ride picked him up at 5:30am and they drove all day to Valence; after which he hopped on his bike and cycled at least four hours to join us.

Julie and I were hoping to get some early starts to beat the worst heat of the day; but we knew we’d have to have a relaxing start to the next day to let Eric catch up on sleep. In the morning we asked him how he slept “Not good, my body is not used to the thin sleeping mat”. We made breakfast, ate, cleaned up and while Eric meticulously packed up his gear and tent we found a little ball and kicked it around.

It’s great fun having Eric join us – a new, fresh face and a source of entertainment. He is enthusiastic about getting us to try classical french and belgian foods, so he is now in charge of choosing the cheese and meats ‘dead animal’ each day in the supermarket.

The ride to Grenoble was great. First we went up Gorge de la Borne, and we even had a tailwind. It was a narrow limestone gorge; just stunning.

Then up and over a good pass.

We stopped in Lans–en-Vercors and I needed a boulangerie fix. I spotted exactly what I needed – a huge chocolate brownie.

From there it was a nice alpine meadow ride to the last pass of the day – cycling past green grass dotted with summer flowers; alpine chalets and brown and white cows. It felt like Switzerland.

The downhill to Grenoble was fantastic. It was long, fast, twisting; and – when the eyes dared to leave the road – you could look down to the valley where the city lay; and it was surrounded by the dramatic ‘pre-Alps’ rising steeply from the valley floor.

We were booked to stay with Nico, a french cycle tourist who stayed with me through Warmshowers in Rotorua. He met us on the road and we followed him to his flat. He warned us it was a 200m climb to his place – and indeed it was. We arrived as the house he shares with 6 others – it was amazing. There was a courtyard with outdoor table and chairs, and a luscious vege garden with 2 chickens running around at the back. There was a huge grape-vine laden with unripe grapes, and even a kiwifruit vine with cute baby kiwifruit. Next door and one terrace down was a black cherry tree, so we could pick the cherries by leaning over the fence. It probably wasn’t the most elegant thing to hoe into someone else’s cherries as soon as we arrived but I couldn’t help myself….

We had a really lovely time at Nico’s – his flatmates were all very welcoming. We had a big sit-down meal of pasta with the entire flat plus us three all sitting around the table.

In the morning Nico went to work and two of his flatmates were home for the day. We packed up everything and were all set to go when we noticed Eric fiddling with his bike - screws and cables in hand – something about the derailleur that he didn’t have time to sort before he left Belgium. Julie and I settled into the outdoor chairs and chatted with the flatmates. I told Eric he should take his bike to a bike shop but he said they would simply do what he was doing.

We left Grenoble and headed up the valley towards Le Bourg d’Oisan.

It was uphill the whole way but a gentle gradient and a tailwind so it was very pleasant. It was a main highway with a fair bit of traffic but usually a wide verge for cycles. The first snowy alps were just coming in to view; and the sheer cliffs on the sides of the valleys were swirled with sedimentation patterns. When we arrived in Le Bourg d’Oisan I commented what a nice ride it was and Eric looked at me in surprise. “What? With all that traffic? The scenery gets much better from here”. Obviously we ain’t seen nothing yet.

The plan was to continue another 27km to La Grave, to get closer to the Col du Galibier, another famous Tour de France pass we would tackle the following morning. It was a steady climb in the warm sun following the river upstream. We passed through a tunnel and then onto fresh asphalt that was melting in the heat. The bike wheels on the sticky tar made a velcro noise. I looked back and Eric was just entering the tunnel. There was a lovely coasting downhill and when we looked back we couldn't see Eric. We stopped and waited for him. And waited. Perhaps he was stuck on the tarmac? Or trying to remove the tar from his wheels? Eventually it was clear he wasn't coming so we backtracked. We reached the black tar sea and I stopped; not keen to cross the sticky tar a second time if not necessary. On the other side of the black tar sea was the tunnel, and Eric's bike propped up beside it. But no Eric. A cyclist came by "are you looking for Eric? He is walking through the tunnel looking for a piece of his derailleur!" We joined his bike and waited for him - eventually he arrived in a car and announced he would hitch a lift to Le Grave to get the part of the derailleur that had come off. I said I didn't think there was a bike shop in Le Grave - the closest one would be back in Le Bourg 14 km back down the road. The woman waiting in the van for Eric agreed there was no bike shop in Le Grave and she drove off. We had to decide what to do. Eric was keen to press on to Le Grave where he was "90% confident" he could fix his bike by somehow finding the part he needed "I'll go to a restaurant that hires bikes and ask for the spare part". I was very doubtful about this and said what he really needed was to go to the bike shop. I could just imagine a day of phaffing if he continued to Le Grave and ended up having to hitch back to Le Bourg anyway. What made the decision especially tricky is we were pretty much exactly halfway between the two towns. I suggested that the best option would be to backtrack to the town with the bike shop, Eric would try to hitch a ride with his bike (if all else failed he had a general downhill to coast down); while Julie and I would ride and meet him at the campground. Eric slightly reluctantly agreed to this plan "if that is best for you then I will do it". He headed down the road. Julie and I got on our bikes and I started in the same direction. Julie said "Aren't we going the other way? I thought the plan was to meet Eric in Le Grave tomorrow at the camping." Somehow the wires had gotten crossed. The thought of splitting up hadn't even crossed my mind. Now that she mentioned it, it seemed a sensible idea. For us girls to continue on the 12km to Le Grave; while Eric backtracked to the bike shop and then met us in Le Grave the next day. The only problem was Eric had already left, so we couldn't discuss this alternative option with him. What should we do? It was getting on to 7pm. We didn't relish the thought of backtracking back down those hard-earned kilometres, only to have to do them again the next day in the blazing sun. While Eric repaired his bike the next day (the bike shops would be closed by now) we could have a relaxing rest day in Le Grave. We decided to continue on to Le Grave without Eric, and texted him this update. I had to keep telling myself not to feel guilty about changing the plan without his knowledge. I felt like we'd unintentionally hoodwinked him into going back to Le Bourg - I think the only reason he agreed to cycle back to Le Bourg was because we were going with him.

We arrived in Le Grave at about 8:30pm. The campground was on the side of a valley, looking straight across the river to a glacier. We got a text from Eric "My bike is fixed; I'm going to try to come to meet you in Le Grave tonight". Wow, we were impressed he managed to get the bike fixed so quickly, and at that hour. He must be seeing if he could hitch a lift back. We texted back if he wanted us to save him dinner or if he would eat first. He texted back "I am 22km away so please save me dinner". Cripes. He was cycling. At 9pm. Best case scenario it would take 2 hours as it was all uphill. It took Julie and myself nearly 4 hours to cycle the 27km from Le Bourg - admittedly that also included waiting for Eric to search for his deraillieur part.

At about 10:30pm Eric phoned; he was near Le Grave, which campsite where we at? A few minutes later he phoned again, he was on the gravel driveway to the camping but couldn't see as it was too dark. I jumped on my bike with my headtorch and cycled to meet him. It was pitchblack and at the end of the road there were two glowing hoops. Eric and his bike. I asked him "where is your light?" He said it worked on and off but generally he had been biking in the dark "It was really scary." I said "You're crazy". He said "I'm really exhausted".

I asked him if he wanted to eat his dinner straight away and the unhesitant reply was "yes". It turned out he'd managed to get a ride back to Le Bourg, and went straight to a bike shop which was closed. But the mechanics were still inside cleaning up and he managed to convince them to fix his bike on the spot!

We all crawled into bed at midnight.

The next morning was another clear blue-sky day. By 9am it was really warm and we were almost sweating eating our hot porridge in the sun. We had a 1300m climb up to col du Galibier ahead.