velotel
04-01-2014, 01:36 AM
One of those good news/ bad news rides. The bad news was that at the end my legs were whining, muscles ready to go on strike, body in pain. The good news was that Maxn was in the same shape, though I suspect less than he said. First time we’d ridden together in a long time. Partly because there’s this massive barrier between us, Grenoble, or rather the Grenoble traffic jams. Also because he’d suffered a kind of prolonged health problem that the docs were having a hard time understanding. Sounded like it was still not entirely understood nor cleared up but at least he was back on the bike so a ride was planned. He just didn’t want anything too long or hard as his endurance was poor. He’d also been working a lot. Just had some big paper published in Science which is pretty friggin prestigious to have happen. I told him he needs to give me his autograph someday, maybe on my Vecchio’s water bottle, that could be cool.
Anyway I figured he was looking for some pigeon to go riding with so he’d have somebody to beat-up on to recover his sense of speed. Which was okay with me since I was thinking maybe this pigeon would be able to make him work a little. I mean the guy hadn’t been riding much and he said when he did he was huffing and puffing just riding on the flat to the store. Sounded good to me, an opportunity to put a bit of pain in his legs. Right!
Discovered within two minutes of rolling off that his idea of being weak and mine don’t share much. I mean this winter I probably averaged 4 plus outing per week. Mostly short ones, like an hour’s ride, which isn’t great but better than nothing. Plus pretty regularly a good ride one day on the weekend. Thus I ought to be in good shape. Or such was my thinking. And Maxn hadn’t been riding much because of whatever he has/had and all his research stuff plus being a family kind of guy. Naturally he still rides away from me! If he wasn’t such a nice guy I would have had to jam something through his spokes!
Ended up doing 65 K with 1200 or so vertical meters. That according to his Garmin. Rode the Corniche du Drac, an excellent small road across cliffs and forested hillsides so steep even mountain goats don’t try walking on them. And below in the gorge a reservoir of turquoise paint. Cornice roughly translated is crag; Drac is the name of the river in the gorge below where we rode. Given Maxn’s announced form in a mail, I thought that would make a 3-bears outing, not too long, not too much vertical, not too steep. Also something he hadn’t ridden, at least in its entirety. And I hadn’t done it in years. One of those old friends I used to visit regularly over the years who then kind of got nudged aside by the more glamorous, theatrical types and then mostly forgotten. Rediscovering this old friend was a treat. A great ride in every respect.
Start point was the small town of Vif. The Col de l’Arzelier starts there too, or at least that’s how I do it. Then it was 3 K of flat to St-Georges-de-Commiers and the start of a 10 K climb. I’d pretty much forgotten what the climb was like but had it mind that it was mostly a long cruise up. Turns out my memory had once again nicely shaded out the pain. There’s a good section, maybe 2 K, at 10% according to a sign we saw on the return riding down. The rest was steady climbing. Riding with Maxn kicked up the pace. Maybe his form was off but from what I saw following him, if it was it wasn’t much because I was maxed out (no pun intended) pedal to the medal going as hard as I could while he was in cruise control. Periodically he’d be spinning along and without even noticing, his pace would pick up and away he’d go until he noticed the lack of huffing and puffing behind him. There was nothing I could do to stay with him. So much for my grandiose ideas of maybe putting a little pain in his legs!
Then we stopped for some pics plus I wanted to shed a layer. Excellent views. The gorge of color below, fields a deep green on the slopes across the valley, fruit trees in blossom, and in the background the Vercors massif. Lot of vertical to the water below. Post card views only around here pretty much run of the mill views. You know, old churches, tile-roofed villages, snow-capped peaks in the background. The road to the top of the climb is wide and smooth with generous shoulders but still not a major highway by any stretch of the imagination. Also a typical french road in that it hugs the hillsides, following the contours. Cut and fill is one of those concepts the french never bother with except for the autoroutes, happily for those of us on bikes.
Got to the top of the climb and changed roads. Switched over to a narrow, twisting, much more primitive road, the Corniche du Drac road. Kicked in with a fast drop into a narrow valley where there’s this massive chateau squatting in the middle of the valley on a small hill. Always strikes me as an odd place to build a chateau but apparently it was for a good reason, thermal springs that were originally exploited by the Romans. Apparently ruling families of the region were based out of this chateau for hundreds of years. They probably felt relatively safe in their remote, closed-in valley. Really ought to ride down to it someday and take a closer look, if that’s possible.
We were carrying some nice speed and came burning into the village of La-Motte-St-Martin where the road instantly goes all narrow, bumpy, and slightly contorted as it dives past old homes crowding into the path. A quick passage and we bounce out the far side, over a bridge, past a rather impressive town hall for such a small village, and into the forest and the climb up the far side.
Not sure climb is really the correct word here. We were gaining altitude across seriously steep slopes but still rolling at a fast clip. I’m not even sure if I dropped off the big ring to be honest. Probably did because it’s not like I’m so strong I’m attacking climbs on the big ring but on the other hand, just might have done that there. Soon as we hit that section I remembered how much I always enjoyed it. Flying along fast and easy through a thick forest of chestnut and beech and ash trees growing on these stupidly steep slopes. Road’s narrow, lane and a fat half in the wide spots, never heard of the word straight. And down below the turquoise waters of the reservoir, and I mean down below like if you dove off the road you could end up in the water hundreds of meters below. But only after bouncing off a trillion or so tree trunks like in some mad pinball game with you the ball.
We come bursting out of the forest into a curve to the left and slam on the brakes. A classic kodak corner. The reservoir in the foreground looking like some gorged anaconda in the valley, forests and fields rising up to ridge and behind that the Vercors massif with a thick tower of rock standing proud against a sky hiding behind a thin veil, the Mont Aiguille. Gorgeous, simple as that. Then we’re off, heading into an amusement park downhill. Just as we roll off I hear Maxn say ‘car back’. I think yea well, that car is going to be car back for a good bit now because there’s no way it’s going to pass us, not on this road. It’s even narrower than the section through the forest and nothing but curves and bends and snappy back and forths and it’s all downhill for maybe 4 or 5 K. Not steep downhill, no gravity accelerations distorting the face, just a steady big ring, sometimes spun out, sometimes not jamming for glory downhill. Actually it wasn’t totally jamming for glory as my fingers were forever floating over the brake levers and frequently giving the rims a light caress because I kept thinking there’d be patches of gravel and sand on the road, remnants of the winter, lurking in the curves. There weren’t any. In fact the pavement was in remarkably good shape, not what one would call buffed I suppose, kind of a primitive buffing instead. An outrageously delightful run and all the time with these views of the lake and the Vercors and fields and forests and the Mont Aiguille. We dropped the car.
The downhill finally came to an end but so gently that I barely even noticed. Just kept flying along on the big ring and a small cog only now we were gaining altitude. And turning away from the lake, heading around the mountain, changing perspectives, now looking at the Alps instead of the Vercors. Left the thick forests behind and moved onto drier southerly exposures and another steady climb, but not so long nor so steep as the first one of the day. We were curling around, heading to the town of La Mure, an ex-coal mining town on a high plateau, a town that over the years has seen a steady gentrification as more and more ripples from the high tech industrialization of Grenoble washed up onto the plateau.
Usually when I’m riding solo I tend to stop a lot when I see vistas my camera wants to shoot. With Maxn I was in a totally different mode. Once we left the lake I think we hardly stopped. I kind of slipped into my Cancellara mode, full on time trialing down the road. I’ll also freely admit that anyone else wouldn’t have a clue that I was in a Cancellara time trial mode; they’d just think there goes another old codger trying to look faster than he is. So we just spun past La Mure, across a long flat then up and over a low hill to the start of a mostly all downhill return to the car. From La Mure to the valley floor was twenty-some Ks of speed run all the way, outside of two small hills along the way. That was fun. Also fast. Even I could have spun a bigger gear than my 50/12 on that. After we closed the loop where we’d turned off onto the Corniche du Drac road on the way out I was tucked down in the drops for so long my arms, wrists, and hands were screaming for relief. I have no idea how fast we were going but whatever it was it felt really good. Actually I probably don’t really want to know because then I’d have to accept that the pros like Cancellara go that fast on the flat!
Got back to the car and was thankful there wasn’t any more riding to do. Just swinging my leg over the bike was a struggle. Figured better to struggle doing that than suffer the indignity of falling over on my side so I wouldn’t have to swing a leg over the bike! I mean I was beat. Best words of the day were uttered right there by Maxn, he said he was beat. That was music to my ears. Like I said back at the beginning, rediscovering an old friend was a fine treat. It may be awhile before I ride the Corniche du Drac again but only because there are so many other roads to do and not nearly enough time. Also riding with Maxn was a fine treat. Nothing like riding with someone vastly younger and stronger to give the legs some inspiration.
Some pics, enjoy. And if you want a video of the ride, here's the link to Maxn's vid http://forums.thepaceline.net/showthread.php?t=146306
Anyway I figured he was looking for some pigeon to go riding with so he’d have somebody to beat-up on to recover his sense of speed. Which was okay with me since I was thinking maybe this pigeon would be able to make him work a little. I mean the guy hadn’t been riding much and he said when he did he was huffing and puffing just riding on the flat to the store. Sounded good to me, an opportunity to put a bit of pain in his legs. Right!
Discovered within two minutes of rolling off that his idea of being weak and mine don’t share much. I mean this winter I probably averaged 4 plus outing per week. Mostly short ones, like an hour’s ride, which isn’t great but better than nothing. Plus pretty regularly a good ride one day on the weekend. Thus I ought to be in good shape. Or such was my thinking. And Maxn hadn’t been riding much because of whatever he has/had and all his research stuff plus being a family kind of guy. Naturally he still rides away from me! If he wasn’t such a nice guy I would have had to jam something through his spokes!
Ended up doing 65 K with 1200 or so vertical meters. That according to his Garmin. Rode the Corniche du Drac, an excellent small road across cliffs and forested hillsides so steep even mountain goats don’t try walking on them. And below in the gorge a reservoir of turquoise paint. Cornice roughly translated is crag; Drac is the name of the river in the gorge below where we rode. Given Maxn’s announced form in a mail, I thought that would make a 3-bears outing, not too long, not too much vertical, not too steep. Also something he hadn’t ridden, at least in its entirety. And I hadn’t done it in years. One of those old friends I used to visit regularly over the years who then kind of got nudged aside by the more glamorous, theatrical types and then mostly forgotten. Rediscovering this old friend was a treat. A great ride in every respect.
Start point was the small town of Vif. The Col de l’Arzelier starts there too, or at least that’s how I do it. Then it was 3 K of flat to St-Georges-de-Commiers and the start of a 10 K climb. I’d pretty much forgotten what the climb was like but had it mind that it was mostly a long cruise up. Turns out my memory had once again nicely shaded out the pain. There’s a good section, maybe 2 K, at 10% according to a sign we saw on the return riding down. The rest was steady climbing. Riding with Maxn kicked up the pace. Maybe his form was off but from what I saw following him, if it was it wasn’t much because I was maxed out (no pun intended) pedal to the medal going as hard as I could while he was in cruise control. Periodically he’d be spinning along and without even noticing, his pace would pick up and away he’d go until he noticed the lack of huffing and puffing behind him. There was nothing I could do to stay with him. So much for my grandiose ideas of maybe putting a little pain in his legs!
Then we stopped for some pics plus I wanted to shed a layer. Excellent views. The gorge of color below, fields a deep green on the slopes across the valley, fruit trees in blossom, and in the background the Vercors massif. Lot of vertical to the water below. Post card views only around here pretty much run of the mill views. You know, old churches, tile-roofed villages, snow-capped peaks in the background. The road to the top of the climb is wide and smooth with generous shoulders but still not a major highway by any stretch of the imagination. Also a typical french road in that it hugs the hillsides, following the contours. Cut and fill is one of those concepts the french never bother with except for the autoroutes, happily for those of us on bikes.
Got to the top of the climb and changed roads. Switched over to a narrow, twisting, much more primitive road, the Corniche du Drac road. Kicked in with a fast drop into a narrow valley where there’s this massive chateau squatting in the middle of the valley on a small hill. Always strikes me as an odd place to build a chateau but apparently it was for a good reason, thermal springs that were originally exploited by the Romans. Apparently ruling families of the region were based out of this chateau for hundreds of years. They probably felt relatively safe in their remote, closed-in valley. Really ought to ride down to it someday and take a closer look, if that’s possible.
We were carrying some nice speed and came burning into the village of La-Motte-St-Martin where the road instantly goes all narrow, bumpy, and slightly contorted as it dives past old homes crowding into the path. A quick passage and we bounce out the far side, over a bridge, past a rather impressive town hall for such a small village, and into the forest and the climb up the far side.
Not sure climb is really the correct word here. We were gaining altitude across seriously steep slopes but still rolling at a fast clip. I’m not even sure if I dropped off the big ring to be honest. Probably did because it’s not like I’m so strong I’m attacking climbs on the big ring but on the other hand, just might have done that there. Soon as we hit that section I remembered how much I always enjoyed it. Flying along fast and easy through a thick forest of chestnut and beech and ash trees growing on these stupidly steep slopes. Road’s narrow, lane and a fat half in the wide spots, never heard of the word straight. And down below the turquoise waters of the reservoir, and I mean down below like if you dove off the road you could end up in the water hundreds of meters below. But only after bouncing off a trillion or so tree trunks like in some mad pinball game with you the ball.
We come bursting out of the forest into a curve to the left and slam on the brakes. A classic kodak corner. The reservoir in the foreground looking like some gorged anaconda in the valley, forests and fields rising up to ridge and behind that the Vercors massif with a thick tower of rock standing proud against a sky hiding behind a thin veil, the Mont Aiguille. Gorgeous, simple as that. Then we’re off, heading into an amusement park downhill. Just as we roll off I hear Maxn say ‘car back’. I think yea well, that car is going to be car back for a good bit now because there’s no way it’s going to pass us, not on this road. It’s even narrower than the section through the forest and nothing but curves and bends and snappy back and forths and it’s all downhill for maybe 4 or 5 K. Not steep downhill, no gravity accelerations distorting the face, just a steady big ring, sometimes spun out, sometimes not jamming for glory downhill. Actually it wasn’t totally jamming for glory as my fingers were forever floating over the brake levers and frequently giving the rims a light caress because I kept thinking there’d be patches of gravel and sand on the road, remnants of the winter, lurking in the curves. There weren’t any. In fact the pavement was in remarkably good shape, not what one would call buffed I suppose, kind of a primitive buffing instead. An outrageously delightful run and all the time with these views of the lake and the Vercors and fields and forests and the Mont Aiguille. We dropped the car.
The downhill finally came to an end but so gently that I barely even noticed. Just kept flying along on the big ring and a small cog only now we were gaining altitude. And turning away from the lake, heading around the mountain, changing perspectives, now looking at the Alps instead of the Vercors. Left the thick forests behind and moved onto drier southerly exposures and another steady climb, but not so long nor so steep as the first one of the day. We were curling around, heading to the town of La Mure, an ex-coal mining town on a high plateau, a town that over the years has seen a steady gentrification as more and more ripples from the high tech industrialization of Grenoble washed up onto the plateau.
Usually when I’m riding solo I tend to stop a lot when I see vistas my camera wants to shoot. With Maxn I was in a totally different mode. Once we left the lake I think we hardly stopped. I kind of slipped into my Cancellara mode, full on time trialing down the road. I’ll also freely admit that anyone else wouldn’t have a clue that I was in a Cancellara time trial mode; they’d just think there goes another old codger trying to look faster than he is. So we just spun past La Mure, across a long flat then up and over a low hill to the start of a mostly all downhill return to the car. From La Mure to the valley floor was twenty-some Ks of speed run all the way, outside of two small hills along the way. That was fun. Also fast. Even I could have spun a bigger gear than my 50/12 on that. After we closed the loop where we’d turned off onto the Corniche du Drac road on the way out I was tucked down in the drops for so long my arms, wrists, and hands were screaming for relief. I have no idea how fast we were going but whatever it was it felt really good. Actually I probably don’t really want to know because then I’d have to accept that the pros like Cancellara go that fast on the flat!
Got back to the car and was thankful there wasn’t any more riding to do. Just swinging my leg over the bike was a struggle. Figured better to struggle doing that than suffer the indignity of falling over on my side so I wouldn’t have to swing a leg over the bike! I mean I was beat. Best words of the day were uttered right there by Maxn, he said he was beat. That was music to my ears. Like I said back at the beginning, rediscovering an old friend was a fine treat. It may be awhile before I ride the Corniche du Drac again but only because there are so many other roads to do and not nearly enough time. Also riding with Maxn was a fine treat. Nothing like riding with someone vastly younger and stronger to give the legs some inspiration.
Some pics, enjoy. And if you want a video of the ride, here's the link to Maxn's vid http://forums.thepaceline.net/showthread.php?t=146306