velotel
02-10-2014, 03:41 AM
Got there by a road I didn’t know. Or at least didn’t know going up. Rode down it years ago after doing Champ Laurent from Chamoux-sur-Gelon. A fun descent with huge gravity accelerations every time I let go of the brakes. Gravity never lies so had a pretty good idea the grades were steep. Enough so that I managed to ignore climbing it for a long time.
Until Saturday. No idea why I decided to do that Saturday. Wasn’t like I was in top form or anything. I mean it’s winter. True, a mild winter so far but snow on the ground at the house and sub-zero temps at night. Mostly I’ve been doing out and backs on the plateau where I live plus occasional jaunts up the mountains across the valley. Saturday decided I needed to ride somewhere else for a change, like the road from La Rochette up through the Vallée des Huiles and maybe, depending on how I feel, up the last few K to the Col de Champ Laurent. That would be perfect, a relaxing ride, nothing steep, sustained low single-digit grades with only an occasional and infrequent bump over 6%. Exactly what an old guy like me on a gray, cold, damp February day needed.
Left the car in Pontcharra, rode up the through the gorge to La Rochette, a fast spinner. Got to the turn for Vallée des Huiles. (Contrary to what one would naturally assume, translated the name is not Valley of Oils, even though huile in english is oil. In this case Huiles comes from an ancient word that meant aiguilles in french, spires in english, like the spires of rock above the Chamonix valley. And to keep everyone really guessing, there aren’t any spires above the valley.) Naturally I went straight instead turning right. Perversity had once again raised its gnarly head and I found myself heading for that road I’d never ridden up.
Found the turn, headed up. Yep, pretty much as I remembered, sustained steepness. But not as brutal as I’d feared. Or maybe I was having a good day and just crushing the grades! Right, so much for that fiction. Back to reality, 34/27, out of the saddle, working the bike up the mountain. Beautiful road. Narrow enough that two cars meeting have to negotiate the passing. Mostly fields generations ago cut out of the forest. No traffic. Get to the first switchback, round like a ball. Has to be a fast carver going down. I should remember but I don’t. Forgetting keeps the world forever new.
If there’s a flaw with this road I suppose it’s the giant towers of the high tension line angling up the mountain. A bit of a visual scar but I’m not complaining, not while we’re hooked up to the grid those lines are feeding. Good climb, figured out later at home it’s almost 6 K of sustained up averaging over 8%. So much for my idea for a cruiser ride.
Hit the junction with the road from coming up from La Rochette. Turned left to La Table. Came out of the forest and I’m staring up the road at what seemed like an impressively big church. With nothing but a small hamlet of houses scrunched up around it. Have to wonder where the money came from to build that church in the middle of nowhere.
Turned left in La Table onto what I knew would be a really small and little used road across the mountain to junction with the road from Chamoux to the col. For no reason at all I had it in mind that it would be mostly a long, fast traverse. Started out like that too. I even moved onto the big ring and then stopped to put my windbreaker. Then it went up and I’m scrambling to get onto the small ring and a big cog. Kept thinking it wouldn’t last. It did.
The road plunged into a thick forest of pines and firs, northwestern exposure. In other words on a cold day it’s cold there. It was cold there Saturday. Patches of snow and ice started appearing on the road. Not enough to be a bother. I pressed on. Gorgeous riding. Catch glimpses of views down through the trees to the valley below. Looked a long ways away. Steady climbing, I’m spending just about all my time on the 34/27, only moments of rolling on the 25 or even the 23 cog then right back onto the 27. Never for a moment did I imagine there’d be so much fierce climbing on this road. The forest got thicker, the air colder, snow and ice on the road more frequent with two narrow strips of blacktop where the cars had passed. Not many cars had passed that way. Slipped out of the forest into a meadow, small farm straddling the road just ahead.
The road’s turned white. I’m hunched over the bike, spitting up snow with every pedal stroke. Traction iffy and the road goes all steep up through the farm. Nothing but snow ahead. Time to walk. No way can I turn over my gearing on that grade seated and keeping pressure on the back wheel for traction. Sooner or later I’d lose it for sure and down I’d go. So, off the bike for a hopefully short stroll.
An old guy walks out of a barn, some big metal contraption balanced on one shoulder. Wearing a classic insulated winter cap complete with ear flaps, rubber boots up his calves, well-used looking coat. Big barn off to the left with a chorus of bleating sheep inside. Must be the farmer. He’s impressed I’m there on a bike. I ask if the snow on the road lasts for long. Not too far, maybe a K, they don’t use salt anymore so the road stays covered with snow longer now, but then it’s good again. Damn, a K of walking, oh well, rather gorgeous up here, can’t complain about that. We wish each good days and stroll off, him to his sheep, me up the road. Steep pitch through the buildings. Road curves left into a field, patches of black start appearing. Stop for some pics, gauge whether I can ride again. Looks good. Turns out my hike-a-bike didn’t last much beyond a hundred meters. The road’s still mostly white but with two black lines passing through.
Around a switchback, rear wheel slipping, grabs, I’m off. Balance act in the black stripes. Road goes limp, must be the top, also goes all white. I move into the untracked snow. Smoother, surer there. Cool, cutting first tracks, haven’t done that in years! Over the top and the road angles down, up ahead against the far hillside the hamlet of Champ Laurent. I can see the junction with the road from Chamoux to the col just below. That road should be clear for sure. Or at least I hope so. First I have to get to it which means riding down the snow-covered road. Take it slow, even unclip one foot just in case.
Made it! Hit the intersection, turn right, the road’s not as clear as I thought it would be. But ridable. Champ Laurent a small hamlet of houses huddled on the hillside above a field. If you’re wondering, Champ Laurent translates into Laurent’s field, which I suppose is the field below the houses. No idea who Laurent was but whoever he was he liked being far from towns and civilization and with a nice view. Homes crowded around a small stream that every time I’ve ridden past has been carrying a good load of water. Wicked steep but short climb next to the stream, the road mostly covered with snow and quite a bit of ice. A strip of black on the left side holds true all the way up and around the hard turn to the right and across the bridge over the creek.
From that point to the col normally is easy. Not this time. Lot of snow up there. Fortunately the black strip keeps going. Up into dark pocket of firs, around a switchback to the left where traction is sketchy, up a long, gentle bend to the right across a field and I’m on the col. Glad no cars were out because there was nowhere to go other than in the black strips.
Weather seems to be closing in, flakes of snow floating by. Full-on winter up here. Across the valley the Col du Grand Cucheron, high peaks in the distance shrouded in clouds. I’m only a hundred meters higher than at my house but at the house the grass pokes up through the snow. Here there’s a good 30-40 centimeters of snow on the ground. I’m glad it’s all downhill from the col back to the car. Should be fast too. I always enjoy the 3 K descent off the col down to the head of the Vallée des Huiles. Long, round curves sweeping down through fields, some back and forth jinks and into a hard turn to the left and then down a big gravity acceleration, a K at 9,5%. Should be fun.
It wasn’t. The road was mostly covered with snow with just two black tracks to follow. On the brakes for the first 2 K before the road finally cleared. Kept the speed down afterwards because by then it was raining so any patches of dreaded black ice would be even harder to spot. Blew into the hamlet at the junction with the road coming up the valley, turned right, tucked in, pushing my biggest gear. Roll past some guys with a firewood business out splitting logs. They stop working and watch me go by, probably wondering where in the hell that fool just came from.
Raining hard but at least it’s all downhill to the car. Even better a not so far off flat downhill so I’m pedaling all the time, working hard, generating heat. Doesn’t seem to be reaching my hands though; nothing new there. I’d done this downhill once but so long ago I’d forgotten what it’s like. Terrific fun. Not very often I get to spin my biggest gear, admittedly only a 50/12, for K after K after K. Hit some nice linked sweepers, pedal all the way through, the bit in my teeth. I must be carrying some good speed because the few cars that pass me do so slowly and then don’t pull away all that fast. As soon as the road goes all twisty, I’m closing on them like a falcon on a slow bird.
Stayed like that all the way to La Rochette. From there back to Pontcharra was flatter with a headwind laden with water. Spinning the big gear got hard. Dove into the gorge, road a wee bit more pitched, speed picked up. I was ready for the ride to end. Hit the edge of town, not far now. Blew through a roundabout, slowed slightly for a red light, passed a car coming into another roundabout, exited out of the saddle, accelerating hard, flying back to the car where I’ve got a thermos of strong, hot coffee laced with Bailey’s waiting for me. Plus the second pain chocolate to eat; I only ate one during the ride. Got to the car thoroughly soaked and smiled because I’d remembered to bring clothes to change into. Man did that feel good. First shed the wetness, put on the dry, then sit back and drink the coffee, eat the pain chocolate, think about what a terrific ride that was. Thoroughly unexpected because no way had I intended on doing something so hard. Or so I thought. Apparently some part of me had other ideas. Ended up doing about 60 K with around 1100-1200 meters of climbing. A good ride, the climb as agreeable as the one out of Chamoux. One to do again some day.
Some pics, cheers
Until Saturday. No idea why I decided to do that Saturday. Wasn’t like I was in top form or anything. I mean it’s winter. True, a mild winter so far but snow on the ground at the house and sub-zero temps at night. Mostly I’ve been doing out and backs on the plateau where I live plus occasional jaunts up the mountains across the valley. Saturday decided I needed to ride somewhere else for a change, like the road from La Rochette up through the Vallée des Huiles and maybe, depending on how I feel, up the last few K to the Col de Champ Laurent. That would be perfect, a relaxing ride, nothing steep, sustained low single-digit grades with only an occasional and infrequent bump over 6%. Exactly what an old guy like me on a gray, cold, damp February day needed.
Left the car in Pontcharra, rode up the through the gorge to La Rochette, a fast spinner. Got to the turn for Vallée des Huiles. (Contrary to what one would naturally assume, translated the name is not Valley of Oils, even though huile in english is oil. In this case Huiles comes from an ancient word that meant aiguilles in french, spires in english, like the spires of rock above the Chamonix valley. And to keep everyone really guessing, there aren’t any spires above the valley.) Naturally I went straight instead turning right. Perversity had once again raised its gnarly head and I found myself heading for that road I’d never ridden up.
Found the turn, headed up. Yep, pretty much as I remembered, sustained steepness. But not as brutal as I’d feared. Or maybe I was having a good day and just crushing the grades! Right, so much for that fiction. Back to reality, 34/27, out of the saddle, working the bike up the mountain. Beautiful road. Narrow enough that two cars meeting have to negotiate the passing. Mostly fields generations ago cut out of the forest. No traffic. Get to the first switchback, round like a ball. Has to be a fast carver going down. I should remember but I don’t. Forgetting keeps the world forever new.
If there’s a flaw with this road I suppose it’s the giant towers of the high tension line angling up the mountain. A bit of a visual scar but I’m not complaining, not while we’re hooked up to the grid those lines are feeding. Good climb, figured out later at home it’s almost 6 K of sustained up averaging over 8%. So much for my idea for a cruiser ride.
Hit the junction with the road from coming up from La Rochette. Turned left to La Table. Came out of the forest and I’m staring up the road at what seemed like an impressively big church. With nothing but a small hamlet of houses scrunched up around it. Have to wonder where the money came from to build that church in the middle of nowhere.
Turned left in La Table onto what I knew would be a really small and little used road across the mountain to junction with the road from Chamoux to the col. For no reason at all I had it in mind that it would be mostly a long, fast traverse. Started out like that too. I even moved onto the big ring and then stopped to put my windbreaker. Then it went up and I’m scrambling to get onto the small ring and a big cog. Kept thinking it wouldn’t last. It did.
The road plunged into a thick forest of pines and firs, northwestern exposure. In other words on a cold day it’s cold there. It was cold there Saturday. Patches of snow and ice started appearing on the road. Not enough to be a bother. I pressed on. Gorgeous riding. Catch glimpses of views down through the trees to the valley below. Looked a long ways away. Steady climbing, I’m spending just about all my time on the 34/27, only moments of rolling on the 25 or even the 23 cog then right back onto the 27. Never for a moment did I imagine there’d be so much fierce climbing on this road. The forest got thicker, the air colder, snow and ice on the road more frequent with two narrow strips of blacktop where the cars had passed. Not many cars had passed that way. Slipped out of the forest into a meadow, small farm straddling the road just ahead.
The road’s turned white. I’m hunched over the bike, spitting up snow with every pedal stroke. Traction iffy and the road goes all steep up through the farm. Nothing but snow ahead. Time to walk. No way can I turn over my gearing on that grade seated and keeping pressure on the back wheel for traction. Sooner or later I’d lose it for sure and down I’d go. So, off the bike for a hopefully short stroll.
An old guy walks out of a barn, some big metal contraption balanced on one shoulder. Wearing a classic insulated winter cap complete with ear flaps, rubber boots up his calves, well-used looking coat. Big barn off to the left with a chorus of bleating sheep inside. Must be the farmer. He’s impressed I’m there on a bike. I ask if the snow on the road lasts for long. Not too far, maybe a K, they don’t use salt anymore so the road stays covered with snow longer now, but then it’s good again. Damn, a K of walking, oh well, rather gorgeous up here, can’t complain about that. We wish each good days and stroll off, him to his sheep, me up the road. Steep pitch through the buildings. Road curves left into a field, patches of black start appearing. Stop for some pics, gauge whether I can ride again. Looks good. Turns out my hike-a-bike didn’t last much beyond a hundred meters. The road’s still mostly white but with two black lines passing through.
Around a switchback, rear wheel slipping, grabs, I’m off. Balance act in the black stripes. Road goes limp, must be the top, also goes all white. I move into the untracked snow. Smoother, surer there. Cool, cutting first tracks, haven’t done that in years! Over the top and the road angles down, up ahead against the far hillside the hamlet of Champ Laurent. I can see the junction with the road from Chamoux to the col just below. That road should be clear for sure. Or at least I hope so. First I have to get to it which means riding down the snow-covered road. Take it slow, even unclip one foot just in case.
Made it! Hit the intersection, turn right, the road’s not as clear as I thought it would be. But ridable. Champ Laurent a small hamlet of houses huddled on the hillside above a field. If you’re wondering, Champ Laurent translates into Laurent’s field, which I suppose is the field below the houses. No idea who Laurent was but whoever he was he liked being far from towns and civilization and with a nice view. Homes crowded around a small stream that every time I’ve ridden past has been carrying a good load of water. Wicked steep but short climb next to the stream, the road mostly covered with snow and quite a bit of ice. A strip of black on the left side holds true all the way up and around the hard turn to the right and across the bridge over the creek.
From that point to the col normally is easy. Not this time. Lot of snow up there. Fortunately the black strip keeps going. Up into dark pocket of firs, around a switchback to the left where traction is sketchy, up a long, gentle bend to the right across a field and I’m on the col. Glad no cars were out because there was nowhere to go other than in the black strips.
Weather seems to be closing in, flakes of snow floating by. Full-on winter up here. Across the valley the Col du Grand Cucheron, high peaks in the distance shrouded in clouds. I’m only a hundred meters higher than at my house but at the house the grass pokes up through the snow. Here there’s a good 30-40 centimeters of snow on the ground. I’m glad it’s all downhill from the col back to the car. Should be fast too. I always enjoy the 3 K descent off the col down to the head of the Vallée des Huiles. Long, round curves sweeping down through fields, some back and forth jinks and into a hard turn to the left and then down a big gravity acceleration, a K at 9,5%. Should be fun.
It wasn’t. The road was mostly covered with snow with just two black tracks to follow. On the brakes for the first 2 K before the road finally cleared. Kept the speed down afterwards because by then it was raining so any patches of dreaded black ice would be even harder to spot. Blew into the hamlet at the junction with the road coming up the valley, turned right, tucked in, pushing my biggest gear. Roll past some guys with a firewood business out splitting logs. They stop working and watch me go by, probably wondering where in the hell that fool just came from.
Raining hard but at least it’s all downhill to the car. Even better a not so far off flat downhill so I’m pedaling all the time, working hard, generating heat. Doesn’t seem to be reaching my hands though; nothing new there. I’d done this downhill once but so long ago I’d forgotten what it’s like. Terrific fun. Not very often I get to spin my biggest gear, admittedly only a 50/12, for K after K after K. Hit some nice linked sweepers, pedal all the way through, the bit in my teeth. I must be carrying some good speed because the few cars that pass me do so slowly and then don’t pull away all that fast. As soon as the road goes all twisty, I’m closing on them like a falcon on a slow bird.
Stayed like that all the way to La Rochette. From there back to Pontcharra was flatter with a headwind laden with water. Spinning the big gear got hard. Dove into the gorge, road a wee bit more pitched, speed picked up. I was ready for the ride to end. Hit the edge of town, not far now. Blew through a roundabout, slowed slightly for a red light, passed a car coming into another roundabout, exited out of the saddle, accelerating hard, flying back to the car where I’ve got a thermos of strong, hot coffee laced with Bailey’s waiting for me. Plus the second pain chocolate to eat; I only ate one during the ride. Got to the car thoroughly soaked and smiled because I’d remembered to bring clothes to change into. Man did that feel good. First shed the wetness, put on the dry, then sit back and drink the coffee, eat the pain chocolate, think about what a terrific ride that was. Thoroughly unexpected because no way had I intended on doing something so hard. Or so I thought. Apparently some part of me had other ideas. Ended up doing about 60 K with around 1100-1200 meters of climbing. A good ride, the climb as agreeable as the one out of Chamoux. One to do again some day.
Some pics, cheers