velotel
09-29-2013, 02:35 PM
That was the note ringing in my head. Col du Petit St Bernard, ride it on Wednesday, before the weather changes. They’re calling for rain the coming weekend. Wednesday comes in with nothing but blue skies. Looking like potentially a perfect silver dollar day. Three days before on Sunday I was riding the hills in the Drôme. Now I’m heading into a world apart, the high Alps in the shadow of Mont Blanc. Well, maybe not in the shadow but close enough that I’ll be looking up to see the summit once I get to the col.
Been something like twelve years since I rode the col. With my son which would have put him around nineteen. We’d done a hard ride the day before, long, steep climb that pretty well drained me. Lack of enough riding time from working too much so unfortunately he rode most of the col alone, somewhere way off the front while I was slogging away behind. Wanted to go back and ride the col properly. Wednesday was looking like maybe I’d finally do that. The key word was maybe. Eleven days before I’d ridden Col du Joly with Maxn and that had whipped me pretty good. I’d followed that up with my ride in the Drôme so wasn’t sure how my legs would be. St Bernard is higher than Joly but no steep grades like on the way to Joly so in theory I’d be good. Even started thinking that if I arrived on the col feeling good, I’d drop down the other side to la Thuile in Italy then ride back. Maybe.
Easy drive to St Maurice, mostly autoroute or divided highway until the upper valley. Lots of traffic, wasn’t expecting that. I mean this was the end of September, the tourists are home and the ski season is still a few months away. Figured the roads would be empty. Not even close. Should have realized that. I mean Bourg Saint Maurice is only the capitol of the world’s largest ski circus with the Les Arcs ski station right above town, La Plagne next to Les Arcs, La Rosière on the road to Petit St Bernard, St Foy further up the valley along with Tigne and Val d’Isère, plus I’d already gone past the road heading up another valley to the biggest ski area of them all, Les 3 Vallées. Combined they have over 600 ski lifts and more ski terrain than anyone could ski in a lifetime, or maybe two lifetimes. Bourg St Maurice is not some sleepy village lost in the mountains.
Into town, looking for a place to leave the car. Past the train station, big puppy, end of the line, multiple platforms. I remember hearing that something like 10,000 people a day can arrive here during the ski season. Crazy world! A parade of double-decker TGV’s running in and out of the valley. Direct from Paris to the slopes in only a few hours. I think they even run TGV’s direct from London to Bourg St Maurice. People heading to Les Arcs can stroll through a covered walkway direct from the station to a high-speed funicular that will whisk them up the mountain to the ski village. Crazy world!
Turned right at the roundabout right after the station, a blind stab. Turned out to be a good one. Took me to a park with a small parking lot. Pulled in, changed clothes, got the bike out, checked I had everything, time to roll. Right into urban riding like I’m not used to. The road from St Maurice to Séez is the road to Tigne/Val d’Isère. Crowded puppy. Cars, pickups (yep, pickups, just like in the states, quite the rage with builders and farmers, all 4x4s), dump trucks, delivery vans, tractor trailer rigs (they call them poids lourds in french, as in heavy loads). The drivers are all french which means they’re all ex-race drivers and all in a hurry. The good thing is that, at least in my experience, they also respect cyclists and give them space. Or maybe because they know that in any accident with a cyclist, the driver is automatically at fault. Still made me a bit nervous, not used to so many cars on the road with me.
Didn’t last long, just to Séez, the village where the roads to Col de l’Iseran and the Col du Petite Saint Bernard separate. Turned left into instant tranquility. Made me glad I hadn’t decided to ride the Iseran from St Maurice which I’d been contemplating on the drive. I like Séez, what little I’ve seen of it. Not as overrun as St Maurice and has managed to hang on to its village character. At least visually in passing through. Doesn’t look like much in the lodging department though but that’s somewhat true for Bourg St Maurice too. Everybody just passes through on their way to the ski stations. Séez and St Maurice are where the people who work the stations live. Kind of too bad since both towns are great locations for a summer or autumn holiday. Tempted to make a quick stop in Séez when I rode into a cloud of wonderful odors from a bakery but just smiled instead and kept rolling. Lots of road work, seems to be the passion in France these days. Every town, every village is working on their roads, putting in decorated round-abouts and stone or brick walkways and planting flowers. Séez was not an exception. Rode past a long line of cars stopped by the work flow. The advantage of two wheels.
Hit the fork for the Petit San Bernard and that was that for traffic. Like someone had turned off the faucet. Wonderful road, smooth, wide, gentle. Goes up the mountain in an endless series of long, lazy switchbacks. Nineteen of them between Séez and the ski station of La Rosière, 1,000 vertical meters, just about 19 K, and 19 switchbacks. Alpe d’Huez has just about the same vertical in only 12+ K and 21 switchbacks. Like I said, lazy switchbacks on the road to Petit St B. Seems like kilometer post after kilometer post (borne in french, as in I did 85 bornes today) had the same grade, 5%. I think the steepest I ever saw was 6%. There were occasional ramps that were steeper but they were short and always compensated for with an easy section.
Have to make a confession here. Normally I’m forever searching out climbs with grades that hurt a good part of the time. High single digits mixed up with low double digits seem to rule my climbing. Sustained climbing with lots of vertical. Sometimes I think I have a kink in my brain because not only do I search them out, I enjoy them, especially afterwards. And there I was spinning up the road to the Petit St B on 5% grades and absolutely loving it. I mean going uphill at a pace that someone on my wheel could follow and actually feel the hollow of air behind me is pretty neat. For K after K, or rather borne after borne. A wonderful discovery, going uphill fast enough that the air was cooling me as fast as the effort was heating me. Neat.
And the views, not much I can say outside of gorgeous. This was a pure silver dollar day in as fine a setting as a person on a road bike could ask for. Across the valley Les Arcs, a mostly easy and moderate ski area except they just happened to go and build lifts all the way up this rather jagged peak with spectacular slopes plunging down into the valley I was perched above. I’ve never skied there; hung up my skis before getting there. With snow to the valley floor has to be a fabulous descent. To the left the narrow valley shooting up to Tigne and Val d’Isère. Also the ski slopes of Ste Foy with a high peak and a small glacier in the background. To the right the sere hills and the valley the road to Cormet de Roselend goes up through. And all around me fields of grasses and forests of conifers and birch trees, some of the latter starting to turn a brilliant yellow. It’s the end of September, I’m in shorts and a short-sleeved jersey, hot enough to be comfortable, cool enough to be feeling strong. What more could I ask for!
Well, maybe some spectacular cars. Like an Aston Martin Vantage heading down. At least I think that’s what it was, a Vantage. An Aston for sure at any rate. Beautiful sound. Beautiful car I suppose too though to my eyes the Astons look a bit too plump. Svelte is not the word that jumps to mind whenever I see an Aston. Ferraris are, to my eyes, svelte. I was impressed by how much of the road width the Aston took up. Still a cool car. Little bit later here comes another Aston, and right behind it an Audi R8 that looked fast even though they were going the same speed.
I get to a junction with a little road coming in from the side and ride down a bit to get a picture, a bit of nostalgia. Had a picnic lunch in the field along the road with my wife and son when he and I rode the col. Back to the road to the Petit St B. Still rolling fast, loving it. Look up, whoa, check this out. In a line, one right after the other, four Lamborghini, Gallardos I think. Don’t really know the cars so well anymore. If Mat my son had been there he would have told me the model, motor, hp, speed, etc. Sometimes I think he can see the shadow of some exotic car and tell me what it is. Anyway, four Lambos cruising down the mountain. What a sound! Their look is distinctive always, super low, wide, flat surfaces, a form designed to slice through the air. Still not as gorgeous as a Ferrari to my eyes but gotta love a Lambo. And did I mention their sound! Beautiful.
Next up as I recall ,but to be honest it all starts getting a bit confused in the memory basket now, a couple more Astons. I saw in all I think half a dozen of them, all Vantages I think. Came around a switchback, look up, here comes a Lambo in full acceleration mode passing a car. Now that was a sound and a half! Wow! Then it seems to be a bunch of R8s coming down the mountain with some fierce looking TT and a Maserati Quattroporte mixed in there. And another Lambo. This is getting pretty crazy. Note that these weren’t one right after the other. A lot of time would pass between one group and another or one car running solo and a group, etc.
Rode through La Rosière, the ski station. Didn’t take long, not much there outside of big views. Rolled through a long bend to the right and some big Audi sedan that looked terribly fit pulled over. A guy jumped out, set up a tripod with a camera. Didn’t notice if it was a video or still. Figured either I was making such spectacular speed up the mountain the guy wanted to film me or there were some more cars coming. More cars it was. First an Audi TT like no TT I’ve ever seen. This one looked sleek and fast as a jet fighter. There was also a sound coming out of four pipes in back that didn’t sound like any motor I’ve ever heard in a TT. Whatever it was sounded big and powerful. And a little behind is an R8, a convertible, only there was something different about it. I mean R8s are pretty cool looking cars but once again, to my eyes, in the looks department they’re not up to the Ferrari standard, nor the Lambo standard for that matter. Their lines look a bit too busy, too complicated for my taste. But not this one. This one was sleek and smooth and absolutely gorgeous plus the sound coming out of it was sensational. Whatever the motor was sounded powerful enough to turn the world, but not a blaring in your face, ear shattering sound. This was music, subtle and muscular all at the same time. If Audi could bottle that, they could make a fortune selling it as an aphrodisiac. I searched on the net later and I’m sure it was the new R8 with the V-10 motor. And a drop top to boot.
And that was that for the cars. Not bad, something like half a dozen Astons, half a dozen Lambos, half a dozen R8s, a couple of fierce looking TTs. They were all having some big fun on that road. So was I. I could see the col in the distance, the road snaking across the slopes of a huge basin, and flatter than ever. I was even contemplating moving up to my big ring. I didn’t need it, just liked the idea. A wind on my back was definitely pushing my advance along. Sweet.
Got to the col, took some shots, back on the bike, into Italy, down to La Thuile. Actually I was just going to ride a little bit and check out the road and probably turn around but the wind was on my back, I’m flying on my big ring across this wide swath of prairie that’s the col, and I spot the road below snaking through some round switchbacks then across more flattish terrain. No way could I stop. The pavement was sweet, the turns round and linked, an amusement park ride pure and simple.
I enter the forest, the road starts to plunge, and the surface goes to hell. A mess of a road. Lots of road work going on only it all seems to have come to a halt with no sign of it getting started again. I dive down through a forest, switchbacks, a beautiful road except the surface is a mess, the sides eroded away or dug away so that there was most of the time only a one-car wide swatch of decent pavement to follow. Which was fine for me on the bike but the drivers of those wonderful cars must have been hating it. Get to La Thuile, stop in a field for lunch in the sun. Sandwich, espresso coffee laced with Baileys, couple of dried figs, back on the road, heading up. Straight into pain.
The profiles I’ve seen of the col show the Italian side as easier than the French side. Okay, granted, my legs were tired but still even then I could tell something was way amiss. The biggest cog I used on the French side was a 21 with my 34 ring. On the Italian side I was consistently on my 25 and 27. True, the wind that was on my back going over the col was now in my face. Plus the road surface was slow. Nevertheless there were lots and lots of ramps that were just plain steep. I felt them going down actually but hadn’t paid much attention as I was too busy picking a line. Which isn’t to say that the Italian side is steep because it isn’t. But for me it’s steeper than profiles show and some of the ramps along the way are definitely verging on steep.
Really a shame the road is in such lousy shape because it’s a gorgeous ride on a constantly changing and captivating road. Fantastic views with shots of Mont Blanc up a side valley. But with the sides of the road eroded away meeting cars can be dicey because some of them refuse to leave the swatch of blacktop which means riders could be forced into boulder city at times. Fortunately there wasn’t much traffic but there was one concrete mixer going up that passed me with not even a foot of space between us. I didn’t like that one at all.
When I was in the lee of the hill in the forest the riding was good but whenever the road left the lee, the wind would slam into me. At times the only way I could keep going was standing up. Finally left the forest and hit the open terrain for the final run to the col. I was mentally braced up for the battle against the wind but oddly enough it was less than I expected. Apparently the wind bounced off the shoulder of the mountain the road was arcing across and was thus slightly diminished. Plus the road surface was now excellent and I think that added some noticeable speed to my advance. Rode past a small lake and saw white caps on it. Up through the final switchbacks and into the final long straight up to the col and I’m moving down the cogs starting to fly along. The roll of the col created a small lee plus the road had gone mostly limp so I came flying into the top rolling like a pro. Okay, might be an exaggeration there but what the heck. Stopped, shot a couple more pics, headed into France and down.
Big ring, small cog descent all the way. I suspect that someone who knows the road could do just about the entire descent and never touch brake pads to rim. Lots of fun, that descent. The switchbacks are all long and round and mostly open so lots of speed can be carried. Had to have been some major fun for those cars. And speaking of which, I start running into some more cars. Only these are coming up. They’re all just a wee bit different. Like an Austin Healey, an Alfa, a Triumph, etc, all from the 60’s, all sporting numbers and driving lights. Kind of like the old rally cars I ran into the Sunday before in the Drôme, except these were all more on the gentlemanly side of the sports car lineup. From Lambos, Astons, and R8s to Austin Martins and Alfas, some change.
The downhill went on for just about forever. My hands and arms were screaming for a break by the time I got back to the car. Kind of a race between my legs and my hands to see who was more tired. Good fun. I won’t categorize that as a great downhill. The road’s too gentle, the bends too open, the speed too civilized. I like a some technical demands and rushes of speed and adrenalin in a downhill to start calling it great. But that said, sure did have a good time coming down off the Petit St B anyway. Great ride, something like 85 K with 2100 vertical meters. Excellent. And on a silver dollar day.
Some pics, cheers, and sorry, no pics of the cars; I was never stopped when they went by.
Been something like twelve years since I rode the col. With my son which would have put him around nineteen. We’d done a hard ride the day before, long, steep climb that pretty well drained me. Lack of enough riding time from working too much so unfortunately he rode most of the col alone, somewhere way off the front while I was slogging away behind. Wanted to go back and ride the col properly. Wednesday was looking like maybe I’d finally do that. The key word was maybe. Eleven days before I’d ridden Col du Joly with Maxn and that had whipped me pretty good. I’d followed that up with my ride in the Drôme so wasn’t sure how my legs would be. St Bernard is higher than Joly but no steep grades like on the way to Joly so in theory I’d be good. Even started thinking that if I arrived on the col feeling good, I’d drop down the other side to la Thuile in Italy then ride back. Maybe.
Easy drive to St Maurice, mostly autoroute or divided highway until the upper valley. Lots of traffic, wasn’t expecting that. I mean this was the end of September, the tourists are home and the ski season is still a few months away. Figured the roads would be empty. Not even close. Should have realized that. I mean Bourg Saint Maurice is only the capitol of the world’s largest ski circus with the Les Arcs ski station right above town, La Plagne next to Les Arcs, La Rosière on the road to Petit St Bernard, St Foy further up the valley along with Tigne and Val d’Isère, plus I’d already gone past the road heading up another valley to the biggest ski area of them all, Les 3 Vallées. Combined they have over 600 ski lifts and more ski terrain than anyone could ski in a lifetime, or maybe two lifetimes. Bourg St Maurice is not some sleepy village lost in the mountains.
Into town, looking for a place to leave the car. Past the train station, big puppy, end of the line, multiple platforms. I remember hearing that something like 10,000 people a day can arrive here during the ski season. Crazy world! A parade of double-decker TGV’s running in and out of the valley. Direct from Paris to the slopes in only a few hours. I think they even run TGV’s direct from London to Bourg St Maurice. People heading to Les Arcs can stroll through a covered walkway direct from the station to a high-speed funicular that will whisk them up the mountain to the ski village. Crazy world!
Turned right at the roundabout right after the station, a blind stab. Turned out to be a good one. Took me to a park with a small parking lot. Pulled in, changed clothes, got the bike out, checked I had everything, time to roll. Right into urban riding like I’m not used to. The road from St Maurice to Séez is the road to Tigne/Val d’Isère. Crowded puppy. Cars, pickups (yep, pickups, just like in the states, quite the rage with builders and farmers, all 4x4s), dump trucks, delivery vans, tractor trailer rigs (they call them poids lourds in french, as in heavy loads). The drivers are all french which means they’re all ex-race drivers and all in a hurry. The good thing is that, at least in my experience, they also respect cyclists and give them space. Or maybe because they know that in any accident with a cyclist, the driver is automatically at fault. Still made me a bit nervous, not used to so many cars on the road with me.
Didn’t last long, just to Séez, the village where the roads to Col de l’Iseran and the Col du Petite Saint Bernard separate. Turned left into instant tranquility. Made me glad I hadn’t decided to ride the Iseran from St Maurice which I’d been contemplating on the drive. I like Séez, what little I’ve seen of it. Not as overrun as St Maurice and has managed to hang on to its village character. At least visually in passing through. Doesn’t look like much in the lodging department though but that’s somewhat true for Bourg St Maurice too. Everybody just passes through on their way to the ski stations. Séez and St Maurice are where the people who work the stations live. Kind of too bad since both towns are great locations for a summer or autumn holiday. Tempted to make a quick stop in Séez when I rode into a cloud of wonderful odors from a bakery but just smiled instead and kept rolling. Lots of road work, seems to be the passion in France these days. Every town, every village is working on their roads, putting in decorated round-abouts and stone or brick walkways and planting flowers. Séez was not an exception. Rode past a long line of cars stopped by the work flow. The advantage of two wheels.
Hit the fork for the Petit San Bernard and that was that for traffic. Like someone had turned off the faucet. Wonderful road, smooth, wide, gentle. Goes up the mountain in an endless series of long, lazy switchbacks. Nineteen of them between Séez and the ski station of La Rosière, 1,000 vertical meters, just about 19 K, and 19 switchbacks. Alpe d’Huez has just about the same vertical in only 12+ K and 21 switchbacks. Like I said, lazy switchbacks on the road to Petit St B. Seems like kilometer post after kilometer post (borne in french, as in I did 85 bornes today) had the same grade, 5%. I think the steepest I ever saw was 6%. There were occasional ramps that were steeper but they were short and always compensated for with an easy section.
Have to make a confession here. Normally I’m forever searching out climbs with grades that hurt a good part of the time. High single digits mixed up with low double digits seem to rule my climbing. Sustained climbing with lots of vertical. Sometimes I think I have a kink in my brain because not only do I search them out, I enjoy them, especially afterwards. And there I was spinning up the road to the Petit St B on 5% grades and absolutely loving it. I mean going uphill at a pace that someone on my wheel could follow and actually feel the hollow of air behind me is pretty neat. For K after K, or rather borne after borne. A wonderful discovery, going uphill fast enough that the air was cooling me as fast as the effort was heating me. Neat.
And the views, not much I can say outside of gorgeous. This was a pure silver dollar day in as fine a setting as a person on a road bike could ask for. Across the valley Les Arcs, a mostly easy and moderate ski area except they just happened to go and build lifts all the way up this rather jagged peak with spectacular slopes plunging down into the valley I was perched above. I’ve never skied there; hung up my skis before getting there. With snow to the valley floor has to be a fabulous descent. To the left the narrow valley shooting up to Tigne and Val d’Isère. Also the ski slopes of Ste Foy with a high peak and a small glacier in the background. To the right the sere hills and the valley the road to Cormet de Roselend goes up through. And all around me fields of grasses and forests of conifers and birch trees, some of the latter starting to turn a brilliant yellow. It’s the end of September, I’m in shorts and a short-sleeved jersey, hot enough to be comfortable, cool enough to be feeling strong. What more could I ask for!
Well, maybe some spectacular cars. Like an Aston Martin Vantage heading down. At least I think that’s what it was, a Vantage. An Aston for sure at any rate. Beautiful sound. Beautiful car I suppose too though to my eyes the Astons look a bit too plump. Svelte is not the word that jumps to mind whenever I see an Aston. Ferraris are, to my eyes, svelte. I was impressed by how much of the road width the Aston took up. Still a cool car. Little bit later here comes another Aston, and right behind it an Audi R8 that looked fast even though they were going the same speed.
I get to a junction with a little road coming in from the side and ride down a bit to get a picture, a bit of nostalgia. Had a picnic lunch in the field along the road with my wife and son when he and I rode the col. Back to the road to the Petit St B. Still rolling fast, loving it. Look up, whoa, check this out. In a line, one right after the other, four Lamborghini, Gallardos I think. Don’t really know the cars so well anymore. If Mat my son had been there he would have told me the model, motor, hp, speed, etc. Sometimes I think he can see the shadow of some exotic car and tell me what it is. Anyway, four Lambos cruising down the mountain. What a sound! Their look is distinctive always, super low, wide, flat surfaces, a form designed to slice through the air. Still not as gorgeous as a Ferrari to my eyes but gotta love a Lambo. And did I mention their sound! Beautiful.
Next up as I recall ,but to be honest it all starts getting a bit confused in the memory basket now, a couple more Astons. I saw in all I think half a dozen of them, all Vantages I think. Came around a switchback, look up, here comes a Lambo in full acceleration mode passing a car. Now that was a sound and a half! Wow! Then it seems to be a bunch of R8s coming down the mountain with some fierce looking TT and a Maserati Quattroporte mixed in there. And another Lambo. This is getting pretty crazy. Note that these weren’t one right after the other. A lot of time would pass between one group and another or one car running solo and a group, etc.
Rode through La Rosière, the ski station. Didn’t take long, not much there outside of big views. Rolled through a long bend to the right and some big Audi sedan that looked terribly fit pulled over. A guy jumped out, set up a tripod with a camera. Didn’t notice if it was a video or still. Figured either I was making such spectacular speed up the mountain the guy wanted to film me or there were some more cars coming. More cars it was. First an Audi TT like no TT I’ve ever seen. This one looked sleek and fast as a jet fighter. There was also a sound coming out of four pipes in back that didn’t sound like any motor I’ve ever heard in a TT. Whatever it was sounded big and powerful. And a little behind is an R8, a convertible, only there was something different about it. I mean R8s are pretty cool looking cars but once again, to my eyes, in the looks department they’re not up to the Ferrari standard, nor the Lambo standard for that matter. Their lines look a bit too busy, too complicated for my taste. But not this one. This one was sleek and smooth and absolutely gorgeous plus the sound coming out of it was sensational. Whatever the motor was sounded powerful enough to turn the world, but not a blaring in your face, ear shattering sound. This was music, subtle and muscular all at the same time. If Audi could bottle that, they could make a fortune selling it as an aphrodisiac. I searched on the net later and I’m sure it was the new R8 with the V-10 motor. And a drop top to boot.
And that was that for the cars. Not bad, something like half a dozen Astons, half a dozen Lambos, half a dozen R8s, a couple of fierce looking TTs. They were all having some big fun on that road. So was I. I could see the col in the distance, the road snaking across the slopes of a huge basin, and flatter than ever. I was even contemplating moving up to my big ring. I didn’t need it, just liked the idea. A wind on my back was definitely pushing my advance along. Sweet.
Got to the col, took some shots, back on the bike, into Italy, down to La Thuile. Actually I was just going to ride a little bit and check out the road and probably turn around but the wind was on my back, I’m flying on my big ring across this wide swath of prairie that’s the col, and I spot the road below snaking through some round switchbacks then across more flattish terrain. No way could I stop. The pavement was sweet, the turns round and linked, an amusement park ride pure and simple.
I enter the forest, the road starts to plunge, and the surface goes to hell. A mess of a road. Lots of road work going on only it all seems to have come to a halt with no sign of it getting started again. I dive down through a forest, switchbacks, a beautiful road except the surface is a mess, the sides eroded away or dug away so that there was most of the time only a one-car wide swatch of decent pavement to follow. Which was fine for me on the bike but the drivers of those wonderful cars must have been hating it. Get to La Thuile, stop in a field for lunch in the sun. Sandwich, espresso coffee laced with Baileys, couple of dried figs, back on the road, heading up. Straight into pain.
The profiles I’ve seen of the col show the Italian side as easier than the French side. Okay, granted, my legs were tired but still even then I could tell something was way amiss. The biggest cog I used on the French side was a 21 with my 34 ring. On the Italian side I was consistently on my 25 and 27. True, the wind that was on my back going over the col was now in my face. Plus the road surface was slow. Nevertheless there were lots and lots of ramps that were just plain steep. I felt them going down actually but hadn’t paid much attention as I was too busy picking a line. Which isn’t to say that the Italian side is steep because it isn’t. But for me it’s steeper than profiles show and some of the ramps along the way are definitely verging on steep.
Really a shame the road is in such lousy shape because it’s a gorgeous ride on a constantly changing and captivating road. Fantastic views with shots of Mont Blanc up a side valley. But with the sides of the road eroded away meeting cars can be dicey because some of them refuse to leave the swatch of blacktop which means riders could be forced into boulder city at times. Fortunately there wasn’t much traffic but there was one concrete mixer going up that passed me with not even a foot of space between us. I didn’t like that one at all.
When I was in the lee of the hill in the forest the riding was good but whenever the road left the lee, the wind would slam into me. At times the only way I could keep going was standing up. Finally left the forest and hit the open terrain for the final run to the col. I was mentally braced up for the battle against the wind but oddly enough it was less than I expected. Apparently the wind bounced off the shoulder of the mountain the road was arcing across and was thus slightly diminished. Plus the road surface was now excellent and I think that added some noticeable speed to my advance. Rode past a small lake and saw white caps on it. Up through the final switchbacks and into the final long straight up to the col and I’m moving down the cogs starting to fly along. The roll of the col created a small lee plus the road had gone mostly limp so I came flying into the top rolling like a pro. Okay, might be an exaggeration there but what the heck. Stopped, shot a couple more pics, headed into France and down.
Big ring, small cog descent all the way. I suspect that someone who knows the road could do just about the entire descent and never touch brake pads to rim. Lots of fun, that descent. The switchbacks are all long and round and mostly open so lots of speed can be carried. Had to have been some major fun for those cars. And speaking of which, I start running into some more cars. Only these are coming up. They’re all just a wee bit different. Like an Austin Healey, an Alfa, a Triumph, etc, all from the 60’s, all sporting numbers and driving lights. Kind of like the old rally cars I ran into the Sunday before in the Drôme, except these were all more on the gentlemanly side of the sports car lineup. From Lambos, Astons, and R8s to Austin Martins and Alfas, some change.
The downhill went on for just about forever. My hands and arms were screaming for a break by the time I got back to the car. Kind of a race between my legs and my hands to see who was more tired. Good fun. I won’t categorize that as a great downhill. The road’s too gentle, the bends too open, the speed too civilized. I like a some technical demands and rushes of speed and adrenalin in a downhill to start calling it great. But that said, sure did have a good time coming down off the Petit St B anyway. Great ride, something like 85 K with 2100 vertical meters. Excellent. And on a silver dollar day.
Some pics, cheers, and sorry, no pics of the cars; I was never stopped when they went by.