velotel
01-15-2014, 04:29 PM
This was not what I imagined! I’d been thinking amiable cruise on a gently rising balcony above the Gorge d’Arly. I knew the start would demand some effort. I’d ridden it on my way to the Col de la Forclaz in the fall. That’s how I knew there was something called the Balcon d’Arly. I’d passed a turn-off with a sign with a cyclist icon, the words the Balcon d’Arly, and an arrow. This was just before the road to Forclaz went from 6% to 8% grades to oh-man-is-this-puppy-steep, double-digit grades.
I arrived at that junction feeling good. Weather not bad, sky mostly a weak overcast, though cold, but comfortably cold. A good day for a cruise in Savoie. Slowed before turning off on the balcony road just to see the road to Forclaz ramping up into double digit grades. Smiled because I didn’t have to struggle up that. I was taking the easy road. Spun around the shoulder of the hill, looked up. Uh oh! The road got all narrow with zero space for two cars to maneuver past one another, and way steep. Visually as steep as the road to Forclaz. Probably just a short ramp up onto the balcony. Onto the 27, out of the saddle, into climbing mode. Kept waiting for the easing. Didn’t happen.
Tenaciously fierce for some 4K with an average grade around 9%. There were moments of easing but of such brief duration that I barely noticed. Made the road to Forclaz a bit of a lark! Kept wondering where in the heck the balcony bit was. Have to admit I was enjoying the road anyway. And riding it in January with no leaves on the trees was terrific. Has to be a tree tunnel in the summer. Looking down the slope was almost hypnotizing, a carpet of brown leaves covering every surface and gray, smooth tree trunks stabbing into the air defining the vertical dimension like stripes on a blank wall. Spotted the stone ruins of some old cabin or something down the slope, nearby a neglected cabin melting into the ground, soon to be a ruin itself. I was starting to feel like a bit of ruin myself by then. A gorgeous road that I would have loved to have appreciated even more if it hadn’t been so steep that I had to focus all my energy on keeping the bike moving forward.
Finally broke out of the forest into a clearing with a house and sheds in a field below the road. In the summer with everything green and bursting with life probably would have been picturesque but in the middle of winter under a gray sky, the house just looked tired. Or maybe it was just me that was tired. The place was also proof that farmers and ranchers in much of the world are pretty much the same. They hate to throw anything away. Never know when that’s exactly what they need. Pretty soon they have piles of what some would call junk all over the place. The only country I’ve seen that is the exception to that rule is Switzerland where even the factories are neat as a grandmother’s sitting room.
Thought the clearing with the house meant the grades would soften. No such luck but the rare moments of less steepness did at least become longer. Below I could see the road in the Gorge d’Arly and on the other side I could see the other Balcon d’Arly. There’s one on each side of the gorge and neither one of them in any manner resembles any balcony I’ve ever seen. Outside of being carved into seriously steep hillsides. Couldn’t believe how high above the gorge I was.
Arrived at another clearing further up from where I could see what I was sure was the road angling up and across a ridge in the distance. Below was a small village that I had a feeling the road traversed. Not good. Meant I’d be dropping down to the village followed by another climb to the ridge. Pure conjecture since I’d not bothered bringing along a map. Swept past a few road junctions, none of them with a bike route sign. Every road branching off looked to go up the mountain to the right so I went straight.
The road went flat, at last, then angled down, then plunged down. I stopped at the top to think about whether I really wanted to go down that. The village was below me, the grade steep with a couple hundred meters, probably more, of vertical. Which meant there was a possibility of having to ride back up what I was about to go down if this wasn’t the road to Crest-Voland. A disheartening possibility. But if it was the road to Crest-Voland, I was still a bit screwed because from the village to the ridge where I could see a road disappearing over the top looked like a long climb. But if I turned around where I was, nothing but downhill back to the car. I liked that idea, to be honest.
The village won and the grade really was steep. Swept into the village past a sign announcing its name, Cohennoz, through a hairpin to the left, then one back to the right in front of the church where at last there was a sign and an arrow pointing towards Crest-Voland. Relief, no turning around to go back up what I’d come down.
The relief was brief. The road was as steep as and steeper than what I’d ridden so far! And still narrow, lane and a half max, frequently pure one-laner. Kept thinking living up there can’t be easy but then most of the houses seemed to have evolved into vacation homes. Through another forest then into a hamlet of still more vacation chalets, or such was my impression. Anyone with a home there has to have a 4x4 if they’re there in the winter because the road through the hamlet was steep.
Big views back across the valley at Mont Charvin across the valley dominating the horizon. Col de l’Arpettaz, possibly my favorite col, tucked under its mass. I was thinking it would be good to be stronger because this was one excellent ride but it was hammering me. To the point that I have to admit that when I’d look ahead and see yet another fierce pitch to get up, I’d groan out loud. Possibly even expressing my excitement with some choice words directed at whoever had designed the bloody road! There was one spot where the hillside had apparently slumped, taking the road with it, which had then been repaved. I didn’t walk up it but I think I was pretty much maxed out at the top!
Then there was the section that traversed a small cliff where they’d built a snowshed for avalanches. Wasn’t as steep as the slump but not far off and much longer. I probably shouldn’t say all this because for sure someone will go ride that road and afterwards wonder what happened to all the steep pitches. Oh well, such is life. On Saturday that road didn’t put me on my knees but there were moments when I had doubts.
But like I said, a gorgeous road. In every respect. Well, almost every respect, the pavement was pretty rough much of the time. Enough so that I’m not sure what it would be like going down. Other than fast with lots of braking. From the cliff traverse to Crest-Voland was a cruise. Had to pay attention because all of a sudden there were patches of snow and ice on the road when the road dove into the shadows of a thick conifer forest. Broke out of that and I was in the ski area, complete with people clumping around in ski boots and ridges of snow along the road. Looks like a pretty nice ski area, low key, no huge buildings, mostly chalets and a small village center. Not to insult the place or anything but as far as the skiing itself, looked a bit boring, all low angle stuff. Supposed to be a great nordic resort too.
Two choices for the return : down into the gorge then up the other side onto the other balcony ride or down into the gorge and down the gorge. The first would entail some potentially hard climbing, the latter would be all downhill back to the car. Not all downhill in the sense that I could coast all the way back to the car, all downhill because outside of going up onto the bridge over the river to the car every meter of horizontal distance would be down or flat. There was no debate. At that point any climbing was too much so all downhill back to the car it was. Turned out to be a stunning ride.
From the ski area down smooth blacktop, two full lanes, grades steep enough to generate good speed, little challenge in the technical department. On the other hand I didn’t push for max speed either. Surface was humid and the air cold enough that I didn’t want any verglas surprises.
Hit the gorge road junction, turned left, down to Ugine. The fun gauge needle slammed the red line. Totally unexpected. I’d ridden up through the gorge and thought most of it wasn’t steep enough to be all that engaging as a descent. Would have been true if I’d been looking for a gravity plunge, except for a few sections right after joining the road. This was not a gravity plunge, this was an unreal Cancellera speed run, big gear all the way to Ugine. If I’d had a 53/11, I would have been on that the whole time. Spun out, which normally would be totally out of my range; I don’t have that kind of muscle. But here almost all the lower road had just enough of a pitch to it, like I don’t know, maybe 2, 3%, and absolutely no head wind so I was pushing my 50/12 the entire time and for one of the very few times in my current life wishing I had a bigger gear.
Scenically I’m sure it was pretty sweet. I didn’t see any of it. Too busy tucking in over the bar and driving the bike as hard as I could. Kept thinking Cancellera all alone on a power run, that was me. Okay, okay, might be a wee tad of exaggeration there but what the heck, no other cyclists were out there to provide me a yardstick. Just me on the bike and the air streaming over my head. And oh man did that feel good. Normally I’m either going up or going down, a rouleur I’m definitely not. But rolling down the Gorge d’Arly Saturday, that’s what I was, a pure rouleur, Cancellera with white hair streaming. Only in my head of course and only for a tasty twenty minutes or so but how sweet it was.
Balcon d’Arly, hell of a ride, definitely one to do if you’re in the area. Totally slammed me but hey, this was mid-winter form. I was just happy to have arrived at the top alive and in one piece. Maybe this summer I’ll be able to do it in better form, and do both balconies. Then again I’ll be 69 by then so maybe I’ll just have to suffer up it again as best I can. But for someone strong and eager, a must do with lots of options for continuing on. Like over the Col des Saisies or over Col des Aravis or up to the other balcony and then up and over Arpettaz. So many options, not necessarily so much time.
Some pics. If you got this far, thanks for reading. Cheers
I arrived at that junction feeling good. Weather not bad, sky mostly a weak overcast, though cold, but comfortably cold. A good day for a cruise in Savoie. Slowed before turning off on the balcony road just to see the road to Forclaz ramping up into double digit grades. Smiled because I didn’t have to struggle up that. I was taking the easy road. Spun around the shoulder of the hill, looked up. Uh oh! The road got all narrow with zero space for two cars to maneuver past one another, and way steep. Visually as steep as the road to Forclaz. Probably just a short ramp up onto the balcony. Onto the 27, out of the saddle, into climbing mode. Kept waiting for the easing. Didn’t happen.
Tenaciously fierce for some 4K with an average grade around 9%. There were moments of easing but of such brief duration that I barely noticed. Made the road to Forclaz a bit of a lark! Kept wondering where in the heck the balcony bit was. Have to admit I was enjoying the road anyway. And riding it in January with no leaves on the trees was terrific. Has to be a tree tunnel in the summer. Looking down the slope was almost hypnotizing, a carpet of brown leaves covering every surface and gray, smooth tree trunks stabbing into the air defining the vertical dimension like stripes on a blank wall. Spotted the stone ruins of some old cabin or something down the slope, nearby a neglected cabin melting into the ground, soon to be a ruin itself. I was starting to feel like a bit of ruin myself by then. A gorgeous road that I would have loved to have appreciated even more if it hadn’t been so steep that I had to focus all my energy on keeping the bike moving forward.
Finally broke out of the forest into a clearing with a house and sheds in a field below the road. In the summer with everything green and bursting with life probably would have been picturesque but in the middle of winter under a gray sky, the house just looked tired. Or maybe it was just me that was tired. The place was also proof that farmers and ranchers in much of the world are pretty much the same. They hate to throw anything away. Never know when that’s exactly what they need. Pretty soon they have piles of what some would call junk all over the place. The only country I’ve seen that is the exception to that rule is Switzerland where even the factories are neat as a grandmother’s sitting room.
Thought the clearing with the house meant the grades would soften. No such luck but the rare moments of less steepness did at least become longer. Below I could see the road in the Gorge d’Arly and on the other side I could see the other Balcon d’Arly. There’s one on each side of the gorge and neither one of them in any manner resembles any balcony I’ve ever seen. Outside of being carved into seriously steep hillsides. Couldn’t believe how high above the gorge I was.
Arrived at another clearing further up from where I could see what I was sure was the road angling up and across a ridge in the distance. Below was a small village that I had a feeling the road traversed. Not good. Meant I’d be dropping down to the village followed by another climb to the ridge. Pure conjecture since I’d not bothered bringing along a map. Swept past a few road junctions, none of them with a bike route sign. Every road branching off looked to go up the mountain to the right so I went straight.
The road went flat, at last, then angled down, then plunged down. I stopped at the top to think about whether I really wanted to go down that. The village was below me, the grade steep with a couple hundred meters, probably more, of vertical. Which meant there was a possibility of having to ride back up what I was about to go down if this wasn’t the road to Crest-Voland. A disheartening possibility. But if it was the road to Crest-Voland, I was still a bit screwed because from the village to the ridge where I could see a road disappearing over the top looked like a long climb. But if I turned around where I was, nothing but downhill back to the car. I liked that idea, to be honest.
The village won and the grade really was steep. Swept into the village past a sign announcing its name, Cohennoz, through a hairpin to the left, then one back to the right in front of the church where at last there was a sign and an arrow pointing towards Crest-Voland. Relief, no turning around to go back up what I’d come down.
The relief was brief. The road was as steep as and steeper than what I’d ridden so far! And still narrow, lane and a half max, frequently pure one-laner. Kept thinking living up there can’t be easy but then most of the houses seemed to have evolved into vacation homes. Through another forest then into a hamlet of still more vacation chalets, or such was my impression. Anyone with a home there has to have a 4x4 if they’re there in the winter because the road through the hamlet was steep.
Big views back across the valley at Mont Charvin across the valley dominating the horizon. Col de l’Arpettaz, possibly my favorite col, tucked under its mass. I was thinking it would be good to be stronger because this was one excellent ride but it was hammering me. To the point that I have to admit that when I’d look ahead and see yet another fierce pitch to get up, I’d groan out loud. Possibly even expressing my excitement with some choice words directed at whoever had designed the bloody road! There was one spot where the hillside had apparently slumped, taking the road with it, which had then been repaved. I didn’t walk up it but I think I was pretty much maxed out at the top!
Then there was the section that traversed a small cliff where they’d built a snowshed for avalanches. Wasn’t as steep as the slump but not far off and much longer. I probably shouldn’t say all this because for sure someone will go ride that road and afterwards wonder what happened to all the steep pitches. Oh well, such is life. On Saturday that road didn’t put me on my knees but there were moments when I had doubts.
But like I said, a gorgeous road. In every respect. Well, almost every respect, the pavement was pretty rough much of the time. Enough so that I’m not sure what it would be like going down. Other than fast with lots of braking. From the cliff traverse to Crest-Voland was a cruise. Had to pay attention because all of a sudden there were patches of snow and ice on the road when the road dove into the shadows of a thick conifer forest. Broke out of that and I was in the ski area, complete with people clumping around in ski boots and ridges of snow along the road. Looks like a pretty nice ski area, low key, no huge buildings, mostly chalets and a small village center. Not to insult the place or anything but as far as the skiing itself, looked a bit boring, all low angle stuff. Supposed to be a great nordic resort too.
Two choices for the return : down into the gorge then up the other side onto the other balcony ride or down into the gorge and down the gorge. The first would entail some potentially hard climbing, the latter would be all downhill back to the car. Not all downhill in the sense that I could coast all the way back to the car, all downhill because outside of going up onto the bridge over the river to the car every meter of horizontal distance would be down or flat. There was no debate. At that point any climbing was too much so all downhill back to the car it was. Turned out to be a stunning ride.
From the ski area down smooth blacktop, two full lanes, grades steep enough to generate good speed, little challenge in the technical department. On the other hand I didn’t push for max speed either. Surface was humid and the air cold enough that I didn’t want any verglas surprises.
Hit the gorge road junction, turned left, down to Ugine. The fun gauge needle slammed the red line. Totally unexpected. I’d ridden up through the gorge and thought most of it wasn’t steep enough to be all that engaging as a descent. Would have been true if I’d been looking for a gravity plunge, except for a few sections right after joining the road. This was not a gravity plunge, this was an unreal Cancellera speed run, big gear all the way to Ugine. If I’d had a 53/11, I would have been on that the whole time. Spun out, which normally would be totally out of my range; I don’t have that kind of muscle. But here almost all the lower road had just enough of a pitch to it, like I don’t know, maybe 2, 3%, and absolutely no head wind so I was pushing my 50/12 the entire time and for one of the very few times in my current life wishing I had a bigger gear.
Scenically I’m sure it was pretty sweet. I didn’t see any of it. Too busy tucking in over the bar and driving the bike as hard as I could. Kept thinking Cancellera all alone on a power run, that was me. Okay, okay, might be a wee tad of exaggeration there but what the heck, no other cyclists were out there to provide me a yardstick. Just me on the bike and the air streaming over my head. And oh man did that feel good. Normally I’m either going up or going down, a rouleur I’m definitely not. But rolling down the Gorge d’Arly Saturday, that’s what I was, a pure rouleur, Cancellera with white hair streaming. Only in my head of course and only for a tasty twenty minutes or so but how sweet it was.
Balcon d’Arly, hell of a ride, definitely one to do if you’re in the area. Totally slammed me but hey, this was mid-winter form. I was just happy to have arrived at the top alive and in one piece. Maybe this summer I’ll be able to do it in better form, and do both balconies. Then again I’ll be 69 by then so maybe I’ll just have to suffer up it again as best I can. But for someone strong and eager, a must do with lots of options for continuing on. Like over the Col des Saisies or over Col des Aravis or up to the other balcony and then up and over Arpettaz. So many options, not necessarily so much time.
Some pics. If you got this far, thanks for reading. Cheers