velotel
05-21-2014, 02:51 PM
Maybe a dozen years have flown by since I last rode the Madeleine from the south. Did the north side in 08 and came down the south side but only vaguely remembered it. Needed to refresh the memory bank and do the south side climb. So that’s what I did Sunday, the climb from La Chambre. Nothing like what I remembered. What I remembered was that it wasn’t all that difficult, definitely not easy but not some killer climb. Since then the first number of my age has flipped from a 5 to a 6 and too soon will be flipping to a 7. Which is maybe why this time round the climb was flat out hard, all the way.
Floating in my head was the idea of doing the Madeleine, coming back down to the junction with the road up the north side of the Col du Chaussey, and riding that. Rather cleverly I managed to delay my departure from the house by doing chores that needed to be done so by the time I exited the autoroute and parked, it was after 3. No way enough time to ride both. Glanced up at the high summits above the Madeleine. The clouds were looking a little heavy on the peaks but in the valley sunny and hot. Guessed, or maybe hoped, any rain would hold off until I was finished.
So it was one col or the other. The Madeleine at 1993 meters or Chaussey at 1533. The idea of bagging an almost 2000 meter col so early in the year appealed to me, except the sign in the valley said the col was closed. Didn’t seem possible. No snow that I could see on this side of the col so maybe the closure was only for the north side. Which is all I needed.
Into La Chambre, a small town apparently thriving around a small chemical plant. Historically a major junction for the TdF. Since the road’s inauguration in ’69, the Madeleine’s seen the peloton 25 times (never a summit finish) while its effective twin, the Col du Glandon, has seen the peloton 19 times since 1947. I doubt the riders see much of the town. Just a food station between cols. I’d never given it much notice either but this time through saw some fine looking old houses, all in excellent shape with beautiful gardens. Economy must be doing well.
Turned right in the center of the village and started my inevitable crawl up through the cogs. Across the valley I could see the other road to the Madeleine, the one through the village of Notre-Dame-du-Cruet that joins the standard road at the ski resort of Longchamp 5K short of the col. That’s the original road up the valley that existed long before the road over the col was built. I’d done the new road, the one built to serve the ski area and always ridden by the TdF, twice, maybe three times, but never the old road across the valley. Apparently plenty of steeper grades but also long sections of easier riding. I was tempted to check it out but decided I needed to do the TdF route. I’d totally forgotten what it’s like. Also don’t have any photos of it, or at least digital photos. Some slides somewhere in my collection from another life but I never look at them.
Heading up out of the La Chambre, past lots of houses, semi-urban riding in the mountains, and I’m already on my second or third largest cog. Don’t remember it being all that steep and that was back when I was riding a 39/26 for my climbing gear. Now I’m riding a 50/34 with a 12-27 11-speed which means I ought to be spinning comfortably up this puppy. My 27 cog’s been not very politely ragging at me recently about making the other cogs carry some of the load instead of always him so I was thinking maybe today he’d be happy.
Not even close! Maybe 3 K out of La Chambre and I’m fully planted on the 27! Turned out to be another long day on that cog! Did manage a few moments well up the mountain when I moved to the 25 and I think once even to the 23. Flirting with dreams of grandeur for oh so brief instances then back home to the 27. Lovely road, two full lanes like a real highway instead of a mountain road. Not my preferred style. I’ve gotten pretty used to the small roads, the one-laners twisting up mountainsides like suicidal snakes, the ones where straight is a foreign concept, the ones that the french mountains serve up in abundance. That’s not the Madeleine. This is a generous road sweeping up the mountainside in long, graceful switchbacks and even longer straights between switchbacks. Fell under its spell anyway. It’s a civilized road but not excessively civilized and I had a feeling coming back down it could be fun.
The first time I ever stood along a road to watch the TdF go by was up here. Not on the col proper. Didn’t get anywhere close to the col. This was before I realized the craziness that the race produces and the numbers of people that head out to cheer the riders on. If you want to be up high on the col for the race, you either have to drive up super early, walk up, or ride up. Ended up watching the race in the series of six switchbacks and traverses across fields of grasses and wildflowers not far after the hamlet of Le Mollard. I recognized those switchbacks on the way up. Grades had settled into a steady grind of steepness through here, not desperately steep but definitely working steep. At least for me. Rolled into the sixth switchback where the hillside had slumped. The road went flat for a bit then ramped up into double-digit grades for the switchback itself. That hurt! Then a long angling traverse deeper into the valley, grade remaining hard.
The Madeleine about busted me. Kept thinking I’m either having a bad day on the bike or it’s vastly steeper than I remembered. Looked up info on it afterwards. Happily for the ego discovered it has lots of double-digit ramps and an 8% average grade for over 1500 vertical meters. What makes it even harder, at least for me, are all the straights. Nothing worse than long, steep straights in my book. When I’m trapped in a low climbing gear with no option of moving to a cog that would generate more speed, those straights start to serve up an added dimension of agony, watching the sluggishness with which the end approaches. The Madeleine has bunches of straights.
It’s also a baker of a climb, regular pizza oven. The road works its way up a long, round, south facing ridge to the basin under the col. There’s plenty of forest on the way up but not much shade on the road and I was cooking under a hot sun, one water bottle already emptied and I was maybe only a third of the way into the climb. Road swung past a small hamlet to the right and I spotted a fountain at the exit. Yes! Stop, drink, fill-up, watch an old couple sitting in their yard at a small table, in the background spires of rock and snow poking into the blue sky. Looked like either they were playing cards or maybe just dozing and gossiping through the heat. Even their dog stayed in the shade to bark.
Refreshed, water bottles full, back to the attack. Grade unrelenting and a damn wind blowing down off the heights wasn’t helping matters. If I wasn’t already on my biggest cog with or without the wind I’d have said it was costing me at least a couple of teeth. On the other hand it was refreshing. Maybe a K after the fountain after a long, slightly weaving straight, I hit a series of four switchbacks up through more fields. The traverses to the left were full-on wind in the face, to the right on my back, but not strong enough to give me a push or anything. The air would just go all still, our speeds perfectly matched, and I’d start heating up like sausages on the grill. Then I’d hit a switchback to the left and jump into the cooler. Couple of the switchbacks were steep ramps after a short flat. More land slumping action.
Came around a bend onto northerly facing slopes and saw the road up ahead carved into a hillside that’s not far off from being a cliff. The road pinched in a tad, sliced across the slope, through some sort of protective shed and into a tight, steep curlicue followed by a long straight where the wind was getting a little more excited. At the end of the straight was the village of Le Planet. Small, cheerful looking place complete with small hotel and a bar and just about all the buildings and chalets looking pretty slicked up, some even decked out with flowers despite it being the middle of the off-season. Somewhat incongruously, at least to my eyes, they also have one of those electronic billboards that they can post messages on about community affairs. Must be some very effective salesmen running around France because those signs are ubiquitous now. And as far as I can see equally worthless everywhere.
A K or so later I rolled through the village of L’Epalud where a double-digit ramp made my eyes cross for a moment. Now I was definitely deep in ski station territory with the village mostly just chalets and apartments for skiers. Pretty enough looking place I guess, certainly vastly more attractive than St François Longchamp, the next village up the road. That was where I felt a few drops of rain. Hadn’t been paying attention to the sky much and all of a sudden realized the clouds were looking pretty thick and heavy on the summits above the col. The drops stopped and I pressed on into the ski station proper of Longchamp. I’m no doubt doing it a disservice and divulging my prejudices but for me there’s really nothing I can say complementary about Longchamp. Other than at least by housing the skiers in vertical blocks they limit the sprawl. Someone looking for a picturesque ski village in the Alps isn’t going to find it here.
I press through as quickly as I can, which isn’t all that fast. I’m firmly buried in my lowest gear with no signs at all of being able to escape it anytime too soon. On the other hand I’m spinning it smoothly, not cranking it over in slow motion while wobbling back and forth across the road. The road skirts just above the highest buildings, angling across the slopes, heading to a switchback with a grand view back down the valley all the way to La Chambre and up the opposite valley to the Col du Glandon. Sun’s still shining down in the valley and on the slopes on the other side but up here on the Madeleine the air’s gone all gray and starting to feel heavy with water. Just past the switchback a gate closes half the road with a sign announcing that the road is closed and the snow has not been plowed. Must have just melted then because there’s no sign of snow anywhere. Plus a car passed me earlier and disappeared up the road and hasn’t come back. In other words one of those covering-your-butt closures. The road’s narrowed but still two lanes, just no shoulders at all. Been seeing names in faded paint on the blacktop for awhile now. Must be hell for the riders riding over that fresh paint when it’s raining.
Thick rivulets of rushing water are just about everywhere in the fields, snowmelt gushing down off the slopes above. A few times they gather together and plunge under the road in a metal culvert and the sound produced makes me think a car is suddenly rushing up behind me. I can see where the col is now, not far to go but that not far to go seems to take an amazingly long time. Wind’s picked up nicely with nothing to impede it and for awhile it seems to be rather nicely focused on pushing me backwards. Or sideways, depending on the road’s direction. To no avail because there’s no way the wind is going to stop me from getting to the col now.
And I’m there, on the col under a glowering sky. Temperature’s dropped, feels like not far off cold enough for flakes of snow to appear. I lean my bike against the snowbank left by the plow and empty my backpack of clothes and layer up and kick myself for not having tossed my Rapha cap in the sack. I have a feeling that the brim protecting the eyes from rain might be appreciated, if I had it. Shoot some pics, the rain starts. Look down at La Chambre in the valley, raining down there too apparently. Could be a wet descent.
It is. Also a brilliant descent, a joy of mad speed, carving turns, dancing sweepers rhythmically diving into one another. And this in some hard and cold rain. Must be really something with the roads dry under a hot sun. It’s raining hard enough that I’m half blind, just peering out of spaces of clarity in my glasses. Actually I’m already not so far off half blind because my left eye’s vision went on an extended holiday quite some time ago so maybe I’m down to quarter vision for the plunge. So, ride slow and careful and get wetter and colder or say the hell with it and go for the speed and maybe limit how long the wet and cold last. The road’s too sweet for prudence, speed the only possible call. I mean what the hell, there’s no traffic to speak of. I think since leaving La Chambre I’ve seen maybe half a dozen moving cars. Besides, today I’m here, alive, and feeling good; tomorrow, who knows.
This is an awesome plunge. Over 1500 vertical meters (that’s just over 5000 vertical feet for those lacking metric) of pure, sustained descent. Everything about the road that I didn’t like during the climb, the width, the openness of the curves, the long straights all come together to create a dream of a downhill. And it kicks in right away.
The rain was slanting in hard and cold with the wind now energetically pushing me down what it had tried to stop me from coming up and I was flying. Almost too fast. Came into a curve to the right that all of a sudden was a tight curl to the right into a swale with a strong bend back to the left and I had to do some delicate braking to get through that first curl. A little wake up call. Sweet. Put me right into the rhythm, floating the pads on the rims to keep them at least a little dryer, peering through the water on my glasses, following the weave down off the mountain.
Came into the ski station where they have these decorative stone strips across the roadway to slow cars down. Hate those things. Just come fast and hop ‘em, only way to do it, rain or no rain. Blasted past the buildings, hit the curlies out of the town, into the squiggly section to St François, carve through the switchbacks with lots of care, the rain coming down harder than on the col. Ripping down the weaving straight to L’Epalud and all of a sudden I sense the air warming just a wee bit. But still raining with water running across the roadway.
And on and on, the wind on my back, the ramps in my favor, gravity pulling strongly, I’m soaked, cold, and swaggering down the mountain in a rush of crazy spray. The rain lets up and I’m thinking maybe it’s over. Look down into the valley below and see a dark cloud of water settled on the slopes. Maybe it’s not over. Nope, here it comes down again. But definitely warmer now. Then just like that, the rain stops, the sun almost comes out, the temperature climbs back up. And I’m rocketing down the mountain faster than ever. This is an awesome descent, did I mention that already? A speed run of arcs and S-turns and stacked switchbacks and some long and super fast straights that turn out to be neither so long nor so straight at high speed. A descent to do. Not my favorite climb but that’s my own idiosyncrasy. Then again the old road on the other side of the valley could be a good one. And the north side climb is a terrific ride.
Don’t know why but I hardly ever see anything about the Madeleine and the few times I’ve been there, have hardly seen a cyclist. Like Sunday, a fine day for riding and no sign of any other two-wheeled traffic. But I was late in the day. A good col, well worth checking out if you’re in the area. Some pics. Cheers.
Floating in my head was the idea of doing the Madeleine, coming back down to the junction with the road up the north side of the Col du Chaussey, and riding that. Rather cleverly I managed to delay my departure from the house by doing chores that needed to be done so by the time I exited the autoroute and parked, it was after 3. No way enough time to ride both. Glanced up at the high summits above the Madeleine. The clouds were looking a little heavy on the peaks but in the valley sunny and hot. Guessed, or maybe hoped, any rain would hold off until I was finished.
So it was one col or the other. The Madeleine at 1993 meters or Chaussey at 1533. The idea of bagging an almost 2000 meter col so early in the year appealed to me, except the sign in the valley said the col was closed. Didn’t seem possible. No snow that I could see on this side of the col so maybe the closure was only for the north side. Which is all I needed.
Into La Chambre, a small town apparently thriving around a small chemical plant. Historically a major junction for the TdF. Since the road’s inauguration in ’69, the Madeleine’s seen the peloton 25 times (never a summit finish) while its effective twin, the Col du Glandon, has seen the peloton 19 times since 1947. I doubt the riders see much of the town. Just a food station between cols. I’d never given it much notice either but this time through saw some fine looking old houses, all in excellent shape with beautiful gardens. Economy must be doing well.
Turned right in the center of the village and started my inevitable crawl up through the cogs. Across the valley I could see the other road to the Madeleine, the one through the village of Notre-Dame-du-Cruet that joins the standard road at the ski resort of Longchamp 5K short of the col. That’s the original road up the valley that existed long before the road over the col was built. I’d done the new road, the one built to serve the ski area and always ridden by the TdF, twice, maybe three times, but never the old road across the valley. Apparently plenty of steeper grades but also long sections of easier riding. I was tempted to check it out but decided I needed to do the TdF route. I’d totally forgotten what it’s like. Also don’t have any photos of it, or at least digital photos. Some slides somewhere in my collection from another life but I never look at them.
Heading up out of the La Chambre, past lots of houses, semi-urban riding in the mountains, and I’m already on my second or third largest cog. Don’t remember it being all that steep and that was back when I was riding a 39/26 for my climbing gear. Now I’m riding a 50/34 with a 12-27 11-speed which means I ought to be spinning comfortably up this puppy. My 27 cog’s been not very politely ragging at me recently about making the other cogs carry some of the load instead of always him so I was thinking maybe today he’d be happy.
Not even close! Maybe 3 K out of La Chambre and I’m fully planted on the 27! Turned out to be another long day on that cog! Did manage a few moments well up the mountain when I moved to the 25 and I think once even to the 23. Flirting with dreams of grandeur for oh so brief instances then back home to the 27. Lovely road, two full lanes like a real highway instead of a mountain road. Not my preferred style. I’ve gotten pretty used to the small roads, the one-laners twisting up mountainsides like suicidal snakes, the ones where straight is a foreign concept, the ones that the french mountains serve up in abundance. That’s not the Madeleine. This is a generous road sweeping up the mountainside in long, graceful switchbacks and even longer straights between switchbacks. Fell under its spell anyway. It’s a civilized road but not excessively civilized and I had a feeling coming back down it could be fun.
The first time I ever stood along a road to watch the TdF go by was up here. Not on the col proper. Didn’t get anywhere close to the col. This was before I realized the craziness that the race produces and the numbers of people that head out to cheer the riders on. If you want to be up high on the col for the race, you either have to drive up super early, walk up, or ride up. Ended up watching the race in the series of six switchbacks and traverses across fields of grasses and wildflowers not far after the hamlet of Le Mollard. I recognized those switchbacks on the way up. Grades had settled into a steady grind of steepness through here, not desperately steep but definitely working steep. At least for me. Rolled into the sixth switchback where the hillside had slumped. The road went flat for a bit then ramped up into double-digit grades for the switchback itself. That hurt! Then a long angling traverse deeper into the valley, grade remaining hard.
The Madeleine about busted me. Kept thinking I’m either having a bad day on the bike or it’s vastly steeper than I remembered. Looked up info on it afterwards. Happily for the ego discovered it has lots of double-digit ramps and an 8% average grade for over 1500 vertical meters. What makes it even harder, at least for me, are all the straights. Nothing worse than long, steep straights in my book. When I’m trapped in a low climbing gear with no option of moving to a cog that would generate more speed, those straights start to serve up an added dimension of agony, watching the sluggishness with which the end approaches. The Madeleine has bunches of straights.
It’s also a baker of a climb, regular pizza oven. The road works its way up a long, round, south facing ridge to the basin under the col. There’s plenty of forest on the way up but not much shade on the road and I was cooking under a hot sun, one water bottle already emptied and I was maybe only a third of the way into the climb. Road swung past a small hamlet to the right and I spotted a fountain at the exit. Yes! Stop, drink, fill-up, watch an old couple sitting in their yard at a small table, in the background spires of rock and snow poking into the blue sky. Looked like either they were playing cards or maybe just dozing and gossiping through the heat. Even their dog stayed in the shade to bark.
Refreshed, water bottles full, back to the attack. Grade unrelenting and a damn wind blowing down off the heights wasn’t helping matters. If I wasn’t already on my biggest cog with or without the wind I’d have said it was costing me at least a couple of teeth. On the other hand it was refreshing. Maybe a K after the fountain after a long, slightly weaving straight, I hit a series of four switchbacks up through more fields. The traverses to the left were full-on wind in the face, to the right on my back, but not strong enough to give me a push or anything. The air would just go all still, our speeds perfectly matched, and I’d start heating up like sausages on the grill. Then I’d hit a switchback to the left and jump into the cooler. Couple of the switchbacks were steep ramps after a short flat. More land slumping action.
Came around a bend onto northerly facing slopes and saw the road up ahead carved into a hillside that’s not far off from being a cliff. The road pinched in a tad, sliced across the slope, through some sort of protective shed and into a tight, steep curlicue followed by a long straight where the wind was getting a little more excited. At the end of the straight was the village of Le Planet. Small, cheerful looking place complete with small hotel and a bar and just about all the buildings and chalets looking pretty slicked up, some even decked out with flowers despite it being the middle of the off-season. Somewhat incongruously, at least to my eyes, they also have one of those electronic billboards that they can post messages on about community affairs. Must be some very effective salesmen running around France because those signs are ubiquitous now. And as far as I can see equally worthless everywhere.
A K or so later I rolled through the village of L’Epalud where a double-digit ramp made my eyes cross for a moment. Now I was definitely deep in ski station territory with the village mostly just chalets and apartments for skiers. Pretty enough looking place I guess, certainly vastly more attractive than St François Longchamp, the next village up the road. That was where I felt a few drops of rain. Hadn’t been paying attention to the sky much and all of a sudden realized the clouds were looking pretty thick and heavy on the summits above the col. The drops stopped and I pressed on into the ski station proper of Longchamp. I’m no doubt doing it a disservice and divulging my prejudices but for me there’s really nothing I can say complementary about Longchamp. Other than at least by housing the skiers in vertical blocks they limit the sprawl. Someone looking for a picturesque ski village in the Alps isn’t going to find it here.
I press through as quickly as I can, which isn’t all that fast. I’m firmly buried in my lowest gear with no signs at all of being able to escape it anytime too soon. On the other hand I’m spinning it smoothly, not cranking it over in slow motion while wobbling back and forth across the road. The road skirts just above the highest buildings, angling across the slopes, heading to a switchback with a grand view back down the valley all the way to La Chambre and up the opposite valley to the Col du Glandon. Sun’s still shining down in the valley and on the slopes on the other side but up here on the Madeleine the air’s gone all gray and starting to feel heavy with water. Just past the switchback a gate closes half the road with a sign announcing that the road is closed and the snow has not been plowed. Must have just melted then because there’s no sign of snow anywhere. Plus a car passed me earlier and disappeared up the road and hasn’t come back. In other words one of those covering-your-butt closures. The road’s narrowed but still two lanes, just no shoulders at all. Been seeing names in faded paint on the blacktop for awhile now. Must be hell for the riders riding over that fresh paint when it’s raining.
Thick rivulets of rushing water are just about everywhere in the fields, snowmelt gushing down off the slopes above. A few times they gather together and plunge under the road in a metal culvert and the sound produced makes me think a car is suddenly rushing up behind me. I can see where the col is now, not far to go but that not far to go seems to take an amazingly long time. Wind’s picked up nicely with nothing to impede it and for awhile it seems to be rather nicely focused on pushing me backwards. Or sideways, depending on the road’s direction. To no avail because there’s no way the wind is going to stop me from getting to the col now.
And I’m there, on the col under a glowering sky. Temperature’s dropped, feels like not far off cold enough for flakes of snow to appear. I lean my bike against the snowbank left by the plow and empty my backpack of clothes and layer up and kick myself for not having tossed my Rapha cap in the sack. I have a feeling that the brim protecting the eyes from rain might be appreciated, if I had it. Shoot some pics, the rain starts. Look down at La Chambre in the valley, raining down there too apparently. Could be a wet descent.
It is. Also a brilliant descent, a joy of mad speed, carving turns, dancing sweepers rhythmically diving into one another. And this in some hard and cold rain. Must be really something with the roads dry under a hot sun. It’s raining hard enough that I’m half blind, just peering out of spaces of clarity in my glasses. Actually I’m already not so far off half blind because my left eye’s vision went on an extended holiday quite some time ago so maybe I’m down to quarter vision for the plunge. So, ride slow and careful and get wetter and colder or say the hell with it and go for the speed and maybe limit how long the wet and cold last. The road’s too sweet for prudence, speed the only possible call. I mean what the hell, there’s no traffic to speak of. I think since leaving La Chambre I’ve seen maybe half a dozen moving cars. Besides, today I’m here, alive, and feeling good; tomorrow, who knows.
This is an awesome plunge. Over 1500 vertical meters (that’s just over 5000 vertical feet for those lacking metric) of pure, sustained descent. Everything about the road that I didn’t like during the climb, the width, the openness of the curves, the long straights all come together to create a dream of a downhill. And it kicks in right away.
The rain was slanting in hard and cold with the wind now energetically pushing me down what it had tried to stop me from coming up and I was flying. Almost too fast. Came into a curve to the right that all of a sudden was a tight curl to the right into a swale with a strong bend back to the left and I had to do some delicate braking to get through that first curl. A little wake up call. Sweet. Put me right into the rhythm, floating the pads on the rims to keep them at least a little dryer, peering through the water on my glasses, following the weave down off the mountain.
Came into the ski station where they have these decorative stone strips across the roadway to slow cars down. Hate those things. Just come fast and hop ‘em, only way to do it, rain or no rain. Blasted past the buildings, hit the curlies out of the town, into the squiggly section to St François, carve through the switchbacks with lots of care, the rain coming down harder than on the col. Ripping down the weaving straight to L’Epalud and all of a sudden I sense the air warming just a wee bit. But still raining with water running across the roadway.
And on and on, the wind on my back, the ramps in my favor, gravity pulling strongly, I’m soaked, cold, and swaggering down the mountain in a rush of crazy spray. The rain lets up and I’m thinking maybe it’s over. Look down into the valley below and see a dark cloud of water settled on the slopes. Maybe it’s not over. Nope, here it comes down again. But definitely warmer now. Then just like that, the rain stops, the sun almost comes out, the temperature climbs back up. And I’m rocketing down the mountain faster than ever. This is an awesome descent, did I mention that already? A speed run of arcs and S-turns and stacked switchbacks and some long and super fast straights that turn out to be neither so long nor so straight at high speed. A descent to do. Not my favorite climb but that’s my own idiosyncrasy. Then again the old road on the other side of the valley could be a good one. And the north side climb is a terrific ride.
Don’t know why but I hardly ever see anything about the Madeleine and the few times I’ve been there, have hardly seen a cyclist. Like Sunday, a fine day for riding and no sign of any other two-wheeled traffic. But I was late in the day. A good col, well worth checking out if you’re in the area. Some pics. Cheers.