velotel
03-20-2014, 02:02 AM
The Sunday before I drove an hour and a quarter into Savoie and did a fine ride on Col de l’Epine and then up to around 1400 meters into snow country where people were messing around on skis. This Sunday I drove in the opposite direction for an hour and three quarters (speeds on the autoroute on either side of Grenoble were restricted to 70 kph due to pollution and then all the way on the autoroute heading south they were limited to 110 kph so the drive was longer than normal). Instead of snow I was in the land of blossoming orchards , blue shutters on houses, and vineyards and fields of lavender tucked away in the hills. And heat. And wind. Parked in Crest, same place when I did my ride up over the Col de Pas de Lauzun on the way to Saou, which I posted some time ago. This time I was heading further up the Drôme valley towards Die before turning south and up to the Col de la Chaudière, a col I didn’t know, just saw it on the map.
Spring has been rampant here for maybe close to two weeks but habits are tenacious. I was putting on tights instead of shorts and jamming gloves and warm cap in my backpack along with my wool jersey and a windbreaker. Okay, ready to roll into the unknown. With a hard wind on my back for some 14 K of flat riding along the river, first on a main route but with generous shoulders. And little traffic. A Sunday. After 5 K plus I was on a small road. Easy to find because the Drôme region was way off the front putting up signs along the roads for cycling routes. Turned out I was following one. There was a sign at the junction for the small road.
That was a good road. Some 6 K of narrow road, curling left and right and up and down but always just a little. Flowers bursting out, birds singing, me on my bike, the wind on my back, what more could one ask for. I was heading for Saillans, knew nothing about it other than that the road for the Col de la Chaudière started there. Couple of K before Saillans, the little road veered into the main road for a bit of fast shoulder cruising. The road to the col was to the right but the turn was to the left, up a ramp, around a left curl, and back over the highway. Saillans was on the other side of the river so only saw it at some remove. Pastel walls, tiled roofs, lots of blue shudders, and narrow streets, all right along the bank of the river. I suspect they’ve seen their fair share of floods over the centuries but the village is still in the same place. Looks like it’s worth a visit some day.
The climb is joined, a sign announcing that the col is 12 K away. Not at all sure how much vertical but somewhere in my memory is a number around 1100 meters. Some rough math in the head and figure, okay, shouldn’t be too hard. Maybe 800 vertical in 12 K. Get to a kilometer post and I’ll be damned, the grade is carved into the face. Not sure why but I kind of like seeing the grades on the posts, even if they can be deceiving. Like seeing a the grade marked as 7% then discovering that around half of the K is less than 5% and the rest close to 10%! The markings on this road were hard to read so I had to cross the road to get close enough to read them since they were all on the opposite side of the road.
Down in the valley between Crest and Saillans I kept looking up to the right at a prominent rock summit and wondering if that was anywhere near the col. Had a suspicion it was. The climb away from Saillans was heading right towards that summit and I couldn’t see any way past it to the right so under the summit must be the game. Rode past a number of vineyards. More and more are getting planted in the hills above the valley. Hot days moving north. They were all severely pruned, or seemed severely to me. Only one branch left to grow on each trunk, all on the same side, all reaching out to the next vine. Looked like a chorus girl line-up, all with skinny legs and arms.
Left the vineyards behind, the grades steepened, the posts misleading. Easy then steep, easy then steep. If the sign said 7%, meant a good bit of the K would be up around 9%. If it said 8%, I think things started pushing double digits at times. Good road, narrow, never straight, following the hillside’s contours, no real switchbacks, could be an interesting descent. But today I drop down the other side, down to Bourdeaux, a village I like. Good restaurant along the river, or at least used to be. Been awhile since I’ve been there. No traffic at all for long periods of time then all of a sudden there would be 3, 4 cars in a row. Then nothing. Nothing for so long at times it was almost strange. Wild countyside, no houses, no farms, just forests and steep slopes. Reminded me a lot of northern New Mexico and the band along the Colorado/Utah border, except the rocks weren’t the right color.
The rock summit I saw from the valley seemed to get bigger and higher the higher I rode. Given the french passion for rock climbing, I was sure there’d be cars parked on the col. Rode past a hamlet of stone and stucco houses perched on a spur of a ridge to the left. Looked like vacation homes, all redone and in fine fettle. Too far from anywhere to be daily houses. Been a long time since I saw a car. A really long time. Like the world’s run out of gas and I’m the only one moving. Grades have slacked off a bit for a while now. I think I saw one post with 5% on it followed by some 6% and6,5% grades. Then it ramps up again. Nothing spectacular but enough that I’ve moved back onto the big cog. Felt good for the psyche shifting down a couple of cogs. In the distance a row of jagged summits barely visible in the haze.
Saw 8% on post. Turned out to be the usual, less than 8% and more than 8%. The more than part my legs definitely felt. Looked like I was closing in on the top and the grades started slacking off. Rode past a small parking full of cars and heard the jangle of rock climbing equipment coming from people walking on a trail somewhere above. Looks like probably a lot of climbing possibilities on the cliffs above. I wonder if Maxn has climbed here. He’s got a still unresolved health problem so haven’t ridden with him in a long time. He would have liked this ride.
The col arrives with a nice view out over the other side. That was a good climb, not great but definitely good. Must admit that judgment is heavily biased by my preference for the high mountains. In terms of the road and the ride, this is a sweet one, no two ways around that. What it lacks for me are the visuals, the eye-expanding views of high peaks, snow, deep green fields, in short the lushness of a high alpine environment. Thus why I say biased. Those are the kinds of views I love. I always enjoy visiting the hills of the Barronies but am always happy to return to the mountains.
And now the descent, as the climb a total unknown. I enjoy descending fast on roads I don’t know, balancing on that edge between sheer speed and holding back (hopefully) just enough margin for the unknowns. The curve that suddenly tightens dramatically, the sand or gravel washed onto the pavement, the car coming up whose driver thinks it’s a one-way road, etc. This turned out to be a very fine descent, fast, semi-technical, good sight-lines. Plus excellent visuals into a small valley with what looked like a tower ruin on the summit of the ridge on the other side and a lush strip of green in the bottom. Made me think of northern New Mexico a bit. But only a small bit.
Grades felt quite a bit steeper and sustained on this side. Hardly any trees, mostly a sort of scrub oak along with scattered pines of some sort. Made for good views into the distance. On a clear day could be gorgeous. Road dropped in a series of switchbacks with long traverses between them with gravity pulling hard through that section. Oddly enough despite being out in the open, I wasn’t getting buffeted by the wind. The ridge across the way must have been creating a fat wind shadow. I’d found a rhythm and was flying off the mountain with no cars anywhere in sight so helped myself to all the roadway like it was closed just for me. Hit the valley floor and fields of green and trees bursting into color. Saw a church and what looked like a very large house off to the left behind some trees. A huge farm house like that in the south of France is called a mas in french. They’re huge because over the years they were added on to for the constantly growing families. A lot of them have been bought by people with a lot of money, frequently Brits, and totally redone and transformed into some beautiful homes. There’re quite a few of them in the Drôme. I was too far away to see what this one was but chances are it was a fixed-up mas. Had to stop for a pic.
Off again, heading to the junction with the road to Saou and Crest, Bourdeaux off to the left with ruins of a castle or something on a ridge above the village. I wasn’t looking forward to the ride to Saou. Had to be straight into the wind. It was. And blowing harder than ever. But not all the time. I’d be riding along, the road constant, and all of a sudden I’d be moving down 4 or even 5 cogs. Then just as abruptly moving back up 4 or 5 cogs. Weird, but even weirder was the fact I was getting this perverse pleasure out of battling the wind. Knowing I only had to do so for some 9 K helped my enthusiasm.
Got to Saou, probably my favorite village in the region. I’ve already posted pics of Saou in another post but I’ll add a few more. I was tempted to stop at the bar on the plaza for a fresh beer (there’s a brewery in the village) but kept riding instead. The beer would have tasted good but getting going again might have been a struggle. I was sure I’d be flying out of Saou with the wind on my back but no, sometimes yes, lots of time from the side, and sometimes in the face. A wind with a sense of humor.
One more col to traverse, the Col de Pas de Lauzun. Really just a bump, not even 200 meters of climbing. I was looking forward to this part. I’d ridden it in the other direction (the wind was blowing hard that day too!) and at the time had thought the descent from the col into the Drôme valley could be a good one. Plus I’d have the wind pushing me, or so I thought. Wasn’t the case. But up to the col was sweet. Even the section up through a couple of switchbacks that felt like maybe double digits in the grade department. Small road through a beautiful forest in a narrow valley that the wind couldn’t penetrate. Got to the col, a pocket of sunshine and calm air. Time for a break, the last of my sandwich, the last of my coffee. Noticed a small rock wall next to a patch of grass. Thought, cool, self-portrait. Pretty rare that I’m ever in a photo. Set up the camera, pushed the button, ran over, sat down, and heard what sounded like maybe an interesting car coming up to the col. An MG-A in british racing green, wire wheels. Sweet. I used to own one back in the early 60s. Mine was black. Slow as heck but a fun drive.
Back on the bike and down into the forest on a twisting, diving road. Got to the Pas de Lauzun which is a tight defile through a rock outcropping and got slammed by the wind. Almost brought me to a stop. And there I’d been thinking I’d finally escaped the wind. Blew me around all the way down into the valley and back to the car. Much of the time in the face. So I still don’t know if that’s a terrific downhill or not. And to be honest I’m not in a hurry to get back to find out. Been there, rode that, it was good, time to move on. All in all a fine loop with maybe 90% of it on small, interesting roads. And like I said earlier, good views but not the kind I get in the Alps. Made for a nice change from my normal riding terrain but as soon as I was close enough to home to see the high mountains again, I knew I wouldn’t be heading south again in the next days. I’m just a mountain kind of guy apparently. I suspect I’m doing the Barronies a disservice. It was the in-between season, neither winter nor spring with browns and grays dominating and no robes of snow draped over the heights to add some impact. In the heart of the green season I’d probably have a different impression. Trouble is that’s when the high mountains are at their best too. That’s what I love about living where I am ; I’ve got it all within a pretty short driving time.
Looks like winter coming back this weekend with rain in the valleys and lots of snow up where I am. Damn, just when I was getting used to spring.
Some pics, cheers
Spring has been rampant here for maybe close to two weeks but habits are tenacious. I was putting on tights instead of shorts and jamming gloves and warm cap in my backpack along with my wool jersey and a windbreaker. Okay, ready to roll into the unknown. With a hard wind on my back for some 14 K of flat riding along the river, first on a main route but with generous shoulders. And little traffic. A Sunday. After 5 K plus I was on a small road. Easy to find because the Drôme region was way off the front putting up signs along the roads for cycling routes. Turned out I was following one. There was a sign at the junction for the small road.
That was a good road. Some 6 K of narrow road, curling left and right and up and down but always just a little. Flowers bursting out, birds singing, me on my bike, the wind on my back, what more could one ask for. I was heading for Saillans, knew nothing about it other than that the road for the Col de la Chaudière started there. Couple of K before Saillans, the little road veered into the main road for a bit of fast shoulder cruising. The road to the col was to the right but the turn was to the left, up a ramp, around a left curl, and back over the highway. Saillans was on the other side of the river so only saw it at some remove. Pastel walls, tiled roofs, lots of blue shudders, and narrow streets, all right along the bank of the river. I suspect they’ve seen their fair share of floods over the centuries but the village is still in the same place. Looks like it’s worth a visit some day.
The climb is joined, a sign announcing that the col is 12 K away. Not at all sure how much vertical but somewhere in my memory is a number around 1100 meters. Some rough math in the head and figure, okay, shouldn’t be too hard. Maybe 800 vertical in 12 K. Get to a kilometer post and I’ll be damned, the grade is carved into the face. Not sure why but I kind of like seeing the grades on the posts, even if they can be deceiving. Like seeing a the grade marked as 7% then discovering that around half of the K is less than 5% and the rest close to 10%! The markings on this road were hard to read so I had to cross the road to get close enough to read them since they were all on the opposite side of the road.
Down in the valley between Crest and Saillans I kept looking up to the right at a prominent rock summit and wondering if that was anywhere near the col. Had a suspicion it was. The climb away from Saillans was heading right towards that summit and I couldn’t see any way past it to the right so under the summit must be the game. Rode past a number of vineyards. More and more are getting planted in the hills above the valley. Hot days moving north. They were all severely pruned, or seemed severely to me. Only one branch left to grow on each trunk, all on the same side, all reaching out to the next vine. Looked like a chorus girl line-up, all with skinny legs and arms.
Left the vineyards behind, the grades steepened, the posts misleading. Easy then steep, easy then steep. If the sign said 7%, meant a good bit of the K would be up around 9%. If it said 8%, I think things started pushing double digits at times. Good road, narrow, never straight, following the hillside’s contours, no real switchbacks, could be an interesting descent. But today I drop down the other side, down to Bourdeaux, a village I like. Good restaurant along the river, or at least used to be. Been awhile since I’ve been there. No traffic at all for long periods of time then all of a sudden there would be 3, 4 cars in a row. Then nothing. Nothing for so long at times it was almost strange. Wild countyside, no houses, no farms, just forests and steep slopes. Reminded me a lot of northern New Mexico and the band along the Colorado/Utah border, except the rocks weren’t the right color.
The rock summit I saw from the valley seemed to get bigger and higher the higher I rode. Given the french passion for rock climbing, I was sure there’d be cars parked on the col. Rode past a hamlet of stone and stucco houses perched on a spur of a ridge to the left. Looked like vacation homes, all redone and in fine fettle. Too far from anywhere to be daily houses. Been a long time since I saw a car. A really long time. Like the world’s run out of gas and I’m the only one moving. Grades have slacked off a bit for a while now. I think I saw one post with 5% on it followed by some 6% and6,5% grades. Then it ramps up again. Nothing spectacular but enough that I’ve moved back onto the big cog. Felt good for the psyche shifting down a couple of cogs. In the distance a row of jagged summits barely visible in the haze.
Saw 8% on post. Turned out to be the usual, less than 8% and more than 8%. The more than part my legs definitely felt. Looked like I was closing in on the top and the grades started slacking off. Rode past a small parking full of cars and heard the jangle of rock climbing equipment coming from people walking on a trail somewhere above. Looks like probably a lot of climbing possibilities on the cliffs above. I wonder if Maxn has climbed here. He’s got a still unresolved health problem so haven’t ridden with him in a long time. He would have liked this ride.
The col arrives with a nice view out over the other side. That was a good climb, not great but definitely good. Must admit that judgment is heavily biased by my preference for the high mountains. In terms of the road and the ride, this is a sweet one, no two ways around that. What it lacks for me are the visuals, the eye-expanding views of high peaks, snow, deep green fields, in short the lushness of a high alpine environment. Thus why I say biased. Those are the kinds of views I love. I always enjoy visiting the hills of the Barronies but am always happy to return to the mountains.
And now the descent, as the climb a total unknown. I enjoy descending fast on roads I don’t know, balancing on that edge between sheer speed and holding back (hopefully) just enough margin for the unknowns. The curve that suddenly tightens dramatically, the sand or gravel washed onto the pavement, the car coming up whose driver thinks it’s a one-way road, etc. This turned out to be a very fine descent, fast, semi-technical, good sight-lines. Plus excellent visuals into a small valley with what looked like a tower ruin on the summit of the ridge on the other side and a lush strip of green in the bottom. Made me think of northern New Mexico a bit. But only a small bit.
Grades felt quite a bit steeper and sustained on this side. Hardly any trees, mostly a sort of scrub oak along with scattered pines of some sort. Made for good views into the distance. On a clear day could be gorgeous. Road dropped in a series of switchbacks with long traverses between them with gravity pulling hard through that section. Oddly enough despite being out in the open, I wasn’t getting buffeted by the wind. The ridge across the way must have been creating a fat wind shadow. I’d found a rhythm and was flying off the mountain with no cars anywhere in sight so helped myself to all the roadway like it was closed just for me. Hit the valley floor and fields of green and trees bursting into color. Saw a church and what looked like a very large house off to the left behind some trees. A huge farm house like that in the south of France is called a mas in french. They’re huge because over the years they were added on to for the constantly growing families. A lot of them have been bought by people with a lot of money, frequently Brits, and totally redone and transformed into some beautiful homes. There’re quite a few of them in the Drôme. I was too far away to see what this one was but chances are it was a fixed-up mas. Had to stop for a pic.
Off again, heading to the junction with the road to Saou and Crest, Bourdeaux off to the left with ruins of a castle or something on a ridge above the village. I wasn’t looking forward to the ride to Saou. Had to be straight into the wind. It was. And blowing harder than ever. But not all the time. I’d be riding along, the road constant, and all of a sudden I’d be moving down 4 or even 5 cogs. Then just as abruptly moving back up 4 or 5 cogs. Weird, but even weirder was the fact I was getting this perverse pleasure out of battling the wind. Knowing I only had to do so for some 9 K helped my enthusiasm.
Got to Saou, probably my favorite village in the region. I’ve already posted pics of Saou in another post but I’ll add a few more. I was tempted to stop at the bar on the plaza for a fresh beer (there’s a brewery in the village) but kept riding instead. The beer would have tasted good but getting going again might have been a struggle. I was sure I’d be flying out of Saou with the wind on my back but no, sometimes yes, lots of time from the side, and sometimes in the face. A wind with a sense of humor.
One more col to traverse, the Col de Pas de Lauzun. Really just a bump, not even 200 meters of climbing. I was looking forward to this part. I’d ridden it in the other direction (the wind was blowing hard that day too!) and at the time had thought the descent from the col into the Drôme valley could be a good one. Plus I’d have the wind pushing me, or so I thought. Wasn’t the case. But up to the col was sweet. Even the section up through a couple of switchbacks that felt like maybe double digits in the grade department. Small road through a beautiful forest in a narrow valley that the wind couldn’t penetrate. Got to the col, a pocket of sunshine and calm air. Time for a break, the last of my sandwich, the last of my coffee. Noticed a small rock wall next to a patch of grass. Thought, cool, self-portrait. Pretty rare that I’m ever in a photo. Set up the camera, pushed the button, ran over, sat down, and heard what sounded like maybe an interesting car coming up to the col. An MG-A in british racing green, wire wheels. Sweet. I used to own one back in the early 60s. Mine was black. Slow as heck but a fun drive.
Back on the bike and down into the forest on a twisting, diving road. Got to the Pas de Lauzun which is a tight defile through a rock outcropping and got slammed by the wind. Almost brought me to a stop. And there I’d been thinking I’d finally escaped the wind. Blew me around all the way down into the valley and back to the car. Much of the time in the face. So I still don’t know if that’s a terrific downhill or not. And to be honest I’m not in a hurry to get back to find out. Been there, rode that, it was good, time to move on. All in all a fine loop with maybe 90% of it on small, interesting roads. And like I said earlier, good views but not the kind I get in the Alps. Made for a nice change from my normal riding terrain but as soon as I was close enough to home to see the high mountains again, I knew I wouldn’t be heading south again in the next days. I’m just a mountain kind of guy apparently. I suspect I’m doing the Barronies a disservice. It was the in-between season, neither winter nor spring with browns and grays dominating and no robes of snow draped over the heights to add some impact. In the heart of the green season I’d probably have a different impression. Trouble is that’s when the high mountains are at their best too. That’s what I love about living where I am ; I’ve got it all within a pretty short driving time.
Looks like winter coming back this weekend with rain in the valleys and lots of snow up where I am. Damn, just when I was getting used to spring.
Some pics, cheers