velotel
04-03-2012, 04:26 PM
Light sliding in over the Alps early, looks like a silver dollar day. Bike in the car, down to Grenoble to meet Max. He’s been riding hard lately with some hammer, a co-worker. Long rides, lots of speed and vertical, he’s going to be strong. No problem, whip out the secret tactic, make him ride into town to meet me. Maybe (doubtful with him but…) it’ll tire his legs. Pick him, he’s looking fresh. Oh well, win some, lose some! Off to Chapareillan.
Park out in the valley in a field along a creek and a dirt track. Snow-capped Alps behind us, Col du Granier up ahead. Bikes ready, shoes on, bell rings, it’s bowl and roll time. Into Chapareillan on a paved farm track. Into town, turn right, turn up. The Tour de France will be here this summer. That’s after crossing the Col du Grand Cucheron, a hard climb. Granier is harder. An MG-B goes by, and another, then an Austin Healey, a TR-3, looks like we’re in the midst of some antique sports car tour. Good grade, sustained, fast warm-up. Into a vineyard, Mt Blanc visible in the distance. A Kodak moment. A black E-Type roadster with two guys amply filling the cockpit stops to ask Max directions. Wonderful sound, in-line 6, nightmare to maintain. Little bit later a remarkably pleasing light blue E-Type coupé goes by, the good one with the in-line 6 and only two seats. Gorgeous to watch.
Turn right, abandoning the road to Granier for another. Narrow road, bumpy, steep downhill, across a flat, twisting past old homes, into St André, a village, barely. Onto another even narrower road, easy climbing past vineyards and rocks. Between my head rocking and a roaring furnace surging blood through my body, I’m feeling fine. Too fine to pay attention. Miss a turn without noticing. Notice later. No problem, there are no wrong turns in France. Curl past more old farms and the road angles up hard. Max gives me a look. Yep, it’s steep. Double digits, high teens at least. We’re out of the saddle, working hard, working the grade. Over the top, flat section to an intersection. Well what do you know, back at the Chapareillan-Granier road, only a few hundred meters from where we left it. No problem, I knew Max was wanting to ride it someday. The day arrived.
Instant steepness. Max is standing a lot today, more than I’ve ever seen. Must be steep. Pitch eases, Max surges ahead. I loiter then slowly pull alongside. Max looks up, looks at me, says something about the road getting steep. Yep, supposedly a K at 18%. Not sure if that’s true, profiles seem a little like economic forecasts, lots of wishful thinking and false data. But if not 18%, not far off. Sustained. Pure sweetness, I’m feeling strong, rolling up the mountain in fine style. Pull up alongside Max then ever so slowly start easing ahead. Yes! A very good day. Those creeping fingers of age must be off looking for a glass of good single malt to wrap themselves around because today they’re on holiday.
Beautiful climb. An oxymoron for some, not for me, not today. We’re powering up the mountain, around curve after curve, sustained, but with a couple of easy sections to gather forces before the next pitch. And we’re there, the Col du Granier. A modest col with three roads coming in, from Chapareillan, Chambéry,and St Pierre d’Entremont. Plus an excellent view of Mont Blanc. And two Eriksens leaning against a wall. Don’t’ see that every day. The Eriksen is what brought Max and I together. I sell Kent’s bikes for him in Europe, sort of an agent. Something to keep me busy in my retirement. Max e-mailed me about ordering one. We rode together so he could see mine. Been riding together since.
We head down towards Chambéry. First part is delicious, back and forth round curves, nice acceleration, smooth pavement, we’re flying. Amazing. Didn’t expect that. Doesn’t last, the fun goes limp, the road too straight, not enough pitch to keep it interesting. Through a spit of a tunnel to another Kodak moment, the view over the Chambéry valley towards Lac du Bourget and Mont Revard. Turn around, ride back to the col.
Road department must have been busy since I last rode up it some fifteen years or so ago. Used to be easy, damn near big ring easy. No longer. Keep wondering how they made it steeper. We’re back at the col. No stopping, the downhill calling our names. The perfect downhill. If you like speed and long, carving turns that is. If I ever wanted to make a video on how to go down fast, this is where I’d film it. It’s so good that I’d pay money to ride down knowing no traffic was coming up. If you find the groove, this puppy is pure ecstasy. Wonderful gravity accelerations, the turns round, rhythm hot and cool all at the same time, which isn’t possible, but is anyway. Caress the brakes, lean in, let go, carve through, then quick over the top and lean into the next bend, carve through. One after another. Addictive. Fierce acceleration on the 18% section. Eyeballs wobbling a bit, the bike solid. Let it go. Burst out of the forest into the fields and vineyards. Big views tearing the eyes off the road. Siren calls all over again. Into the sweeping right-hander where I watched the blue Jag howl off into the distance. And down, hard and fast, into Chapareillan, then out into the fields to the car next to the stream. That was some ride! A good day, a very good day. Two Eriksens having fun, doing what they were made to do. Even better, I didn’t get dropped. Not even close. Yes, like I said in another post, still crazy after all these years.
And now some photos. The first ones were shot one evening during a late in the day checking it out day. The shots with big blue overhead are from the ride to the col.
Park out in the valley in a field along a creek and a dirt track. Snow-capped Alps behind us, Col du Granier up ahead. Bikes ready, shoes on, bell rings, it’s bowl and roll time. Into Chapareillan on a paved farm track. Into town, turn right, turn up. The Tour de France will be here this summer. That’s after crossing the Col du Grand Cucheron, a hard climb. Granier is harder. An MG-B goes by, and another, then an Austin Healey, a TR-3, looks like we’re in the midst of some antique sports car tour. Good grade, sustained, fast warm-up. Into a vineyard, Mt Blanc visible in the distance. A Kodak moment. A black E-Type roadster with two guys amply filling the cockpit stops to ask Max directions. Wonderful sound, in-line 6, nightmare to maintain. Little bit later a remarkably pleasing light blue E-Type coupé goes by, the good one with the in-line 6 and only two seats. Gorgeous to watch.
Turn right, abandoning the road to Granier for another. Narrow road, bumpy, steep downhill, across a flat, twisting past old homes, into St André, a village, barely. Onto another even narrower road, easy climbing past vineyards and rocks. Between my head rocking and a roaring furnace surging blood through my body, I’m feeling fine. Too fine to pay attention. Miss a turn without noticing. Notice later. No problem, there are no wrong turns in France. Curl past more old farms and the road angles up hard. Max gives me a look. Yep, it’s steep. Double digits, high teens at least. We’re out of the saddle, working hard, working the grade. Over the top, flat section to an intersection. Well what do you know, back at the Chapareillan-Granier road, only a few hundred meters from where we left it. No problem, I knew Max was wanting to ride it someday. The day arrived.
Instant steepness. Max is standing a lot today, more than I’ve ever seen. Must be steep. Pitch eases, Max surges ahead. I loiter then slowly pull alongside. Max looks up, looks at me, says something about the road getting steep. Yep, supposedly a K at 18%. Not sure if that’s true, profiles seem a little like economic forecasts, lots of wishful thinking and false data. But if not 18%, not far off. Sustained. Pure sweetness, I’m feeling strong, rolling up the mountain in fine style. Pull up alongside Max then ever so slowly start easing ahead. Yes! A very good day. Those creeping fingers of age must be off looking for a glass of good single malt to wrap themselves around because today they’re on holiday.
Beautiful climb. An oxymoron for some, not for me, not today. We’re powering up the mountain, around curve after curve, sustained, but with a couple of easy sections to gather forces before the next pitch. And we’re there, the Col du Granier. A modest col with three roads coming in, from Chapareillan, Chambéry,and St Pierre d’Entremont. Plus an excellent view of Mont Blanc. And two Eriksens leaning against a wall. Don’t’ see that every day. The Eriksen is what brought Max and I together. I sell Kent’s bikes for him in Europe, sort of an agent. Something to keep me busy in my retirement. Max e-mailed me about ordering one. We rode together so he could see mine. Been riding together since.
We head down towards Chambéry. First part is delicious, back and forth round curves, nice acceleration, smooth pavement, we’re flying. Amazing. Didn’t expect that. Doesn’t last, the fun goes limp, the road too straight, not enough pitch to keep it interesting. Through a spit of a tunnel to another Kodak moment, the view over the Chambéry valley towards Lac du Bourget and Mont Revard. Turn around, ride back to the col.
Road department must have been busy since I last rode up it some fifteen years or so ago. Used to be easy, damn near big ring easy. No longer. Keep wondering how they made it steeper. We’re back at the col. No stopping, the downhill calling our names. The perfect downhill. If you like speed and long, carving turns that is. If I ever wanted to make a video on how to go down fast, this is where I’d film it. It’s so good that I’d pay money to ride down knowing no traffic was coming up. If you find the groove, this puppy is pure ecstasy. Wonderful gravity accelerations, the turns round, rhythm hot and cool all at the same time, which isn’t possible, but is anyway. Caress the brakes, lean in, let go, carve through, then quick over the top and lean into the next bend, carve through. One after another. Addictive. Fierce acceleration on the 18% section. Eyeballs wobbling a bit, the bike solid. Let it go. Burst out of the forest into the fields and vineyards. Big views tearing the eyes off the road. Siren calls all over again. Into the sweeping right-hander where I watched the blue Jag howl off into the distance. And down, hard and fast, into Chapareillan, then out into the fields to the car next to the stream. That was some ride! A good day, a very good day. Two Eriksens having fun, doing what they were made to do. Even better, I didn’t get dropped. Not even close. Yes, like I said in another post, still crazy after all these years.
And now some photos. The first ones were shot one evening during a late in the day checking it out day. The shots with big blue overhead are from the ride to the col.