velotel
04-08-2014, 08:01 AM
I gave Maxn a choice, hard (as in steep) or long and agreeable. He didn’t hesitate, hard it was. It’s possible that in our exchanges of mail I neglected to mention that it wasn’t just hard; it’s hard for an agonizingly long time, like 750+ vertical meters worth of sustained steepness, as in 9,5% average from the bottom to the top. I think I might have forgotten to mention that. Also not sure I mentioned that after that initial little climb we’d rejoin the road to Col Luitel with something like 4,5 K to the summit averaging somewhere around 10,5%, possibly more. That may have slipped the mind too. Hey, what can I say, I’m old, I forget names, dates, niggling little details about climbs, etc. But I did say something about that once we were in the climb. You know, politeness and all that. He’s young, probably just figured my advancing years were doing the usual exaggerating song and dance routine.
A brutal climb, simple as that. Pure, self-imposed torture on as beautiful a road as anyone could possibly ask for. In short, the road to Col Luitel and the little deviation up to Mont Sec along the way is one of my favorites, right up there with the Arpettaz, Sabot, Joly, Marocaz. It’s also one of those I do rarely; it’s too hard to do with any frequency. Might just be the hardest climb I’ve ever done, or at least in a toss-up with the Sabot. I know, I know, Galibier north side, Ventoux from Bédoin, Izoard south side are all considerably longer plus they’re steep. But for pure intensity, they’re all in the shadows of Sabot and Sec/Luitel. I suspect Maxn wouldn’t argue very strongly against that statement.
He already knew the climb to Luitel. He’d done it with some young american rider who was over for a summer doing a research internship and working with Maxn. Young is Maxn’s term for the guy which means he was really young. And a strong climber. Put some pain in Maxn’s legs on more than one occasion. No danger of that happening with me. Riding up the valley along the highway to Bourg d’Oisans from Vizille, a ride I never look forward to, I told Maxn I’d be slow. Wanted to get to Séchilienne with as close to a full energy tank as possible because unlike Maxn, I knew there was going to be a whole lot of pain coursing through my bod long before we were on the col. So I just tucked in on Maxn’s wheel and rode my pace. Happily for me he’s a nice guy and whenever he noticed he was dropping me, he’d drop his pace so I could catch on. A true gentleman, Maxn.
Got to Séchilienne, looked up at the mountain looming overhead, did a long, internal groan while wondering why in the hell I’d suggested we ride this monster! And with that we were off, the climb instantly fully joined, Maxn riding easily off the front, me following along but settling in and feeling better the higher we climbed. Just a fabulous road. Beautiful old chateau in ruins off to the left as we’re leaving the village. Small one, nothing extravagant, but nice lines to my eyes. Too bad it’s a ruin. Kind of an odd village Séchilienne, supposedly in permanent danger by the threat of a cliff or something crashing down but apparently no one’s too concerned, the houses in fine shape, gardens planted, flowers in bloom. Seems like some sort of mini-climate pocket with gardens well in advance. The higher we rode, the more advanced they seemed.
Narrow road, has to be dicey in a car meeting another in the opposite direction. I told Maxn the TdF had crossed the col. Seven times in fact, the last time was ‘81, the first time ’56. They were pretty fond of the col for awhile, did it every other year from ’56 to ’62, always up the hard side, the side we were riding. In ’76 and ’78 they did it the opposite direction on their way to Alpe d’Huez. The peleton racing down the Séchilienne side must have been scary as hell. The last traverse in ’81 was up the hard side again. After that somebody must have said enough with that crazy road! I can’t even for a moment imagine those guys racing up that road with the gearing they used then. Actually I have a hard time believing that the first time I rode this puppy was back when my climbing gear was a 39/26. There’s no way I could ride that gearing up that hill today. No way. Afterwards I mentioned that I was contemplating putting a 12-29 cog set on my second pair of wheels for climbs like that and Maxn thought that was a terrific idea. There were times in the climb I was even having warm thoughts about a triple!
Maxn was riding smooth and strong and I was holding my own better than I’d thought would be the case. Oddly enough the steepest pitches are where I was able to ride pace with him. As soon as the pitch would ease off, I’d do the same while Maxn kept on charging up the hill. I needed to guard all the energy I had because I knew what was coming up, a turn back to the left, almost 180° back. And up. Steeper than what we’d arrive on and that was already steep.
Got to the junction. I stopped. Drank, looked at the ramp, remembered the first time I rode it. The road’s even narrower than what we were on, angling up across a ridiculously steep slope of forest to a bend to the right. First time I was there I figured the initial ramp was just a short bit and then at that bend where it looked like things eased off, life would become easier. Nope. Maybe even steeper after. Also narrower. From the junction to the summit of Mont Sec is just about 550 vertical meters, distance just about 5,5 K. There’s also a short flattish section along the way. In other words a massive wave of pain soaring up into the distance. Somewhere in that opening ramp Maxn said something about it being steep. I think I told him not yet.
The road to Mont Sec is your basic snapping turtle grade; you gotta beat it over the head to make it let go once it’s sucked you into its lair. We’re talking unrelenting. And all the time the road is angling up this same insanely steep forested hillside. A crazy place. Also gorgeous. Madness can be like that, contradictions dancing in perfect harmony. The road’s super thin, clinging to the slopes like some acrophobic snake. Views off the side are impressive, the valley far below, visible only because the trees haven’t leafed out yet.
We’d curl around some blind bend thinking maybe here the torture would soften and instead we’d see the road angling up even steeper! Not that he said anything but I think Maxn was impressed. And still going strong. Got to some small hamlet and at last an easing of the grade. Note I said an easing. And yes, people apparently even live up here. About the only activity I could imagine they do up there is grow pot. Hell of a commute to the valley floor because there is no other way. It’s a dead end, at least as far as the pavement is concerned. Damned good pavement I should add. Completely stunning that this goat track is even maintained, much less paved!
The summit, a round saddle on top of the ridge. Both of us moved chains down the cogs. I’d almost forgotten I wasn’t riding a one-speed. Stop, drink, snack, look around, then back down what we just came up. I’m no psychologist but at times I imagine that the desire, even need, to ride up something like what we just rode up just to turn around and ride back down it could be considered marginally sane at best. Actually the descent might even be crazier than the ride up. We’re talking a wild speed run on a twisting track that’s jumping around like some neurotic on speed dancing on a hot waffle iron. With no margin. As in if you’re not on the road, you’re in pain city. Meet a car coming up and I’m not sure what the options are, outside of an instant transformation into an abstract hood ornament. We’re talking major entertainment here. I loved it.
All of a sudden we’re at a junction we passed on the way up, a road angling off and across the mountain. We sweep onto that rolling hard and fast and manage to glide up almost to where it crests. Another crazy road, tight, clinging to the hillside, weaving through a forest, then down to a junction. The road to Col Luitel is joined. I told Maxn I knew he would have been disappointed if we’d come in too high and missed the steepness on the road to Luitel. We tucked into it just about at the beginning of the final march to the summit. I don’t recall him thanking me for my consideration.
Road changed, practically a highway now. Wide enough that two cars could meet and maneuver by each other with only minor body damage and maybe a mirror or two removed. Downright spacious after the track to Mont Sec. And just as steep. Another snapping turtle climb. Didn’t let go until we hit the col, 4,5 Ks later. Riding that was kind of like going up against Muhammad Ali after a little warm-up with Sonny Liston carrying an attitude. Okay, okay, I’m dating myself here. What can I say, sedimentary beds in the mind of time.
Somewhere along the way I realized I was pretty much riding from pedal stroke to pedal stroke. I realized that because I had some time to think during each pedal stroke. This is where I was having warm thoughts for a triple. I suspect even Maxn was hurting through this final march. And now for the grand contradiction, what a fantastic climb! Perfect road, a forest of silence under a chorus of singing birds, rivulets of water gurgling and bubbling and leaping down the slopes, tiny, white flowers thrusting up out of the matted grasses and leaves. And views, though not so grand that day, sky a wee bit too thick but thinning while we climbed, a weak sun caressing our backs, the air noticeably cooling as we closed on the col.
The col’s almost an anticlimax, no grand views, no sense of arriving on top, just a broad, soft place on a forested ridge. Still snow on the ground when we got there. Maxn was grinning. He’d enjoyed himself. So had I. From there we could either cross the col and ride the road up to Chamrousse (instantly nixed by both of us), cross the col and ride down the road to Chamrousse (not exciting enough after what we’d just done), or down what we rode up. Without the little deviation to Mont Sec. Back to Séchilienne, the obvious call.
Maxn has posted the vid from this ride. Shows you just how narrow and wild these roads are and even to some extent how fast. But only to a certain extent. Speed is relative. I have no idea what speeds we hit going down, other than I’m sure we were frequently over 60 kph, which as a number isn’t all that spectacular. On that road it was crazy. Actually I’m pretty sure I touched numbers considerably higher, which was easy to do. Let go of the brakes and the bike instantly started hauling butt down the mountain. There were lots of times when I started wondering if maybe I wasn’t overdoing it a bit. Like mice nibbling on the edges of a piece of cheese in a trap, threads of fear at times were nibbling on my gray matter. Must have been a communication breakdown somewhere between my head and my fingers though, or else they just ignored the low moans of fear. It was too thrilling to back off. But totally crazy. I knew that because for once I was dropping Maxn. He’s young, got a wife and kids, a job, plus he’s smart. Me, I just jumped off, caught the wave and rode it for all I was worth. A wild ride off the mountain.
Got to Séchilienne almost in a state of shock. Maxn rolled in, grinning big time. Hell of a downhill. Not as good as the one off the Arpettaz I must say, not as good as the one off Sabot either I think. But in terms of pure thrill, Luitel maybe stands alone. Between the intense pull of gravity, the tightness of the road, the constant bobbing and weaving of the road surface, the blind turns where meeting a car is instantly dicey (happened once, I think the driver about freaked as I dove through on the inside between him and a rock outcropping), and all the time in a magical forest, this is a have-to downhill. But not for everyone, no way, and definitely not for anyone who’s a brake rider with carbon rims.
Then it was down the highway back to Vizille, about the same time the ski traffic was coming back from a day at Alpe d’Huez and Les Deux Alpes. But no problem, I’ve never had a problem with french drivers when I’m on the bike. And Maxn was super nice, pulled me all the way down the valley. Constantly adjusted his speed for the old codger on his wheel. Hell of a ride, up and down. Sublime torture followed by extravagant ecstasy. What more could anyone ask for.
Some pics. Cheers. And I apologize for the length but hey, this is an outrageous road and if you’re ever here, one you really need to ride. So I wanted to tell you about it. I also strongly suggest you check out Maxn’s vid on his post.
http://forums.thepaceline.net/showthread.php?t=146671
A brutal climb, simple as that. Pure, self-imposed torture on as beautiful a road as anyone could possibly ask for. In short, the road to Col Luitel and the little deviation up to Mont Sec along the way is one of my favorites, right up there with the Arpettaz, Sabot, Joly, Marocaz. It’s also one of those I do rarely; it’s too hard to do with any frequency. Might just be the hardest climb I’ve ever done, or at least in a toss-up with the Sabot. I know, I know, Galibier north side, Ventoux from Bédoin, Izoard south side are all considerably longer plus they’re steep. But for pure intensity, they’re all in the shadows of Sabot and Sec/Luitel. I suspect Maxn wouldn’t argue very strongly against that statement.
He already knew the climb to Luitel. He’d done it with some young american rider who was over for a summer doing a research internship and working with Maxn. Young is Maxn’s term for the guy which means he was really young. And a strong climber. Put some pain in Maxn’s legs on more than one occasion. No danger of that happening with me. Riding up the valley along the highway to Bourg d’Oisans from Vizille, a ride I never look forward to, I told Maxn I’d be slow. Wanted to get to Séchilienne with as close to a full energy tank as possible because unlike Maxn, I knew there was going to be a whole lot of pain coursing through my bod long before we were on the col. So I just tucked in on Maxn’s wheel and rode my pace. Happily for me he’s a nice guy and whenever he noticed he was dropping me, he’d drop his pace so I could catch on. A true gentleman, Maxn.
Got to Séchilienne, looked up at the mountain looming overhead, did a long, internal groan while wondering why in the hell I’d suggested we ride this monster! And with that we were off, the climb instantly fully joined, Maxn riding easily off the front, me following along but settling in and feeling better the higher we climbed. Just a fabulous road. Beautiful old chateau in ruins off to the left as we’re leaving the village. Small one, nothing extravagant, but nice lines to my eyes. Too bad it’s a ruin. Kind of an odd village Séchilienne, supposedly in permanent danger by the threat of a cliff or something crashing down but apparently no one’s too concerned, the houses in fine shape, gardens planted, flowers in bloom. Seems like some sort of mini-climate pocket with gardens well in advance. The higher we rode, the more advanced they seemed.
Narrow road, has to be dicey in a car meeting another in the opposite direction. I told Maxn the TdF had crossed the col. Seven times in fact, the last time was ‘81, the first time ’56. They were pretty fond of the col for awhile, did it every other year from ’56 to ’62, always up the hard side, the side we were riding. In ’76 and ’78 they did it the opposite direction on their way to Alpe d’Huez. The peleton racing down the Séchilienne side must have been scary as hell. The last traverse in ’81 was up the hard side again. After that somebody must have said enough with that crazy road! I can’t even for a moment imagine those guys racing up that road with the gearing they used then. Actually I have a hard time believing that the first time I rode this puppy was back when my climbing gear was a 39/26. There’s no way I could ride that gearing up that hill today. No way. Afterwards I mentioned that I was contemplating putting a 12-29 cog set on my second pair of wheels for climbs like that and Maxn thought that was a terrific idea. There were times in the climb I was even having warm thoughts about a triple!
Maxn was riding smooth and strong and I was holding my own better than I’d thought would be the case. Oddly enough the steepest pitches are where I was able to ride pace with him. As soon as the pitch would ease off, I’d do the same while Maxn kept on charging up the hill. I needed to guard all the energy I had because I knew what was coming up, a turn back to the left, almost 180° back. And up. Steeper than what we’d arrive on and that was already steep.
Got to the junction. I stopped. Drank, looked at the ramp, remembered the first time I rode it. The road’s even narrower than what we were on, angling up across a ridiculously steep slope of forest to a bend to the right. First time I was there I figured the initial ramp was just a short bit and then at that bend where it looked like things eased off, life would become easier. Nope. Maybe even steeper after. Also narrower. From the junction to the summit of Mont Sec is just about 550 vertical meters, distance just about 5,5 K. There’s also a short flattish section along the way. In other words a massive wave of pain soaring up into the distance. Somewhere in that opening ramp Maxn said something about it being steep. I think I told him not yet.
The road to Mont Sec is your basic snapping turtle grade; you gotta beat it over the head to make it let go once it’s sucked you into its lair. We’re talking unrelenting. And all the time the road is angling up this same insanely steep forested hillside. A crazy place. Also gorgeous. Madness can be like that, contradictions dancing in perfect harmony. The road’s super thin, clinging to the slopes like some acrophobic snake. Views off the side are impressive, the valley far below, visible only because the trees haven’t leafed out yet.
We’d curl around some blind bend thinking maybe here the torture would soften and instead we’d see the road angling up even steeper! Not that he said anything but I think Maxn was impressed. And still going strong. Got to some small hamlet and at last an easing of the grade. Note I said an easing. And yes, people apparently even live up here. About the only activity I could imagine they do up there is grow pot. Hell of a commute to the valley floor because there is no other way. It’s a dead end, at least as far as the pavement is concerned. Damned good pavement I should add. Completely stunning that this goat track is even maintained, much less paved!
The summit, a round saddle on top of the ridge. Both of us moved chains down the cogs. I’d almost forgotten I wasn’t riding a one-speed. Stop, drink, snack, look around, then back down what we just came up. I’m no psychologist but at times I imagine that the desire, even need, to ride up something like what we just rode up just to turn around and ride back down it could be considered marginally sane at best. Actually the descent might even be crazier than the ride up. We’re talking a wild speed run on a twisting track that’s jumping around like some neurotic on speed dancing on a hot waffle iron. With no margin. As in if you’re not on the road, you’re in pain city. Meet a car coming up and I’m not sure what the options are, outside of an instant transformation into an abstract hood ornament. We’re talking major entertainment here. I loved it.
All of a sudden we’re at a junction we passed on the way up, a road angling off and across the mountain. We sweep onto that rolling hard and fast and manage to glide up almost to where it crests. Another crazy road, tight, clinging to the hillside, weaving through a forest, then down to a junction. The road to Col Luitel is joined. I told Maxn I knew he would have been disappointed if we’d come in too high and missed the steepness on the road to Luitel. We tucked into it just about at the beginning of the final march to the summit. I don’t recall him thanking me for my consideration.
Road changed, practically a highway now. Wide enough that two cars could meet and maneuver by each other with only minor body damage and maybe a mirror or two removed. Downright spacious after the track to Mont Sec. And just as steep. Another snapping turtle climb. Didn’t let go until we hit the col, 4,5 Ks later. Riding that was kind of like going up against Muhammad Ali after a little warm-up with Sonny Liston carrying an attitude. Okay, okay, I’m dating myself here. What can I say, sedimentary beds in the mind of time.
Somewhere along the way I realized I was pretty much riding from pedal stroke to pedal stroke. I realized that because I had some time to think during each pedal stroke. This is where I was having warm thoughts for a triple. I suspect even Maxn was hurting through this final march. And now for the grand contradiction, what a fantastic climb! Perfect road, a forest of silence under a chorus of singing birds, rivulets of water gurgling and bubbling and leaping down the slopes, tiny, white flowers thrusting up out of the matted grasses and leaves. And views, though not so grand that day, sky a wee bit too thick but thinning while we climbed, a weak sun caressing our backs, the air noticeably cooling as we closed on the col.
The col’s almost an anticlimax, no grand views, no sense of arriving on top, just a broad, soft place on a forested ridge. Still snow on the ground when we got there. Maxn was grinning. He’d enjoyed himself. So had I. From there we could either cross the col and ride the road up to Chamrousse (instantly nixed by both of us), cross the col and ride down the road to Chamrousse (not exciting enough after what we’d just done), or down what we rode up. Without the little deviation to Mont Sec. Back to Séchilienne, the obvious call.
Maxn has posted the vid from this ride. Shows you just how narrow and wild these roads are and even to some extent how fast. But only to a certain extent. Speed is relative. I have no idea what speeds we hit going down, other than I’m sure we were frequently over 60 kph, which as a number isn’t all that spectacular. On that road it was crazy. Actually I’m pretty sure I touched numbers considerably higher, which was easy to do. Let go of the brakes and the bike instantly started hauling butt down the mountain. There were lots of times when I started wondering if maybe I wasn’t overdoing it a bit. Like mice nibbling on the edges of a piece of cheese in a trap, threads of fear at times were nibbling on my gray matter. Must have been a communication breakdown somewhere between my head and my fingers though, or else they just ignored the low moans of fear. It was too thrilling to back off. But totally crazy. I knew that because for once I was dropping Maxn. He’s young, got a wife and kids, a job, plus he’s smart. Me, I just jumped off, caught the wave and rode it for all I was worth. A wild ride off the mountain.
Got to Séchilienne almost in a state of shock. Maxn rolled in, grinning big time. Hell of a downhill. Not as good as the one off the Arpettaz I must say, not as good as the one off Sabot either I think. But in terms of pure thrill, Luitel maybe stands alone. Between the intense pull of gravity, the tightness of the road, the constant bobbing and weaving of the road surface, the blind turns where meeting a car is instantly dicey (happened once, I think the driver about freaked as I dove through on the inside between him and a rock outcropping), and all the time in a magical forest, this is a have-to downhill. But not for everyone, no way, and definitely not for anyone who’s a brake rider with carbon rims.
Then it was down the highway back to Vizille, about the same time the ski traffic was coming back from a day at Alpe d’Huez and Les Deux Alpes. But no problem, I’ve never had a problem with french drivers when I’m on the bike. And Maxn was super nice, pulled me all the way down the valley. Constantly adjusted his speed for the old codger on his wheel. Hell of a ride, up and down. Sublime torture followed by extravagant ecstasy. What more could anyone ask for.
Some pics. Cheers. And I apologize for the length but hey, this is an outrageous road and if you’re ever here, one you really need to ride. So I wanted to tell you about it. I also strongly suggest you check out Maxn’s vid on his post.
http://forums.thepaceline.net/showthread.php?t=146671