velotel
12-16-2014, 07:55 AM
Wanted to bag one more good climb before the end of the year. Didn’t seem to be happening. Poor weather, form slip sliding away, days passing, hopes strangling from too little bike time. Okay, settle for something less, or maybe just bag it for this year. Not like I didn’t do some fine rides in 014 so relax, let yourself get old. Happening anyway of course.
Weekend rolled in, more grayness, maybe nothing more than suspended humidity. Sunday morning, watched the clouds slink in from the south. Looked north, Savoie skies not too bad. Mont Revard’s been jiggling around in my head for awhile now. Been it up once, maybe even twice but the first time so long ago I’ve forgotten. Last time was in 07. Rode with a friend and his son, up the south side from Chambéry, the easy side. Then down the north side, the road from Aix-les-Bains, or sort of from Aix-les-Bains. South side’s sun-washed cruising, an abundance of 6%, 7% grades, but with balloons of pain along the way, down low mostly. North side’s a forest run, lots of 7%, 8% grades but naturally some ramps of pain along the way. That’s what the profiles were saying. My legs knew the south side was solidly in the middle range grades and gravity had made it loud and clear the north side was steeper. Needed to ride up it to know for sure. Sunday seemed like a day to find out.
Parked in Challes les Eaux, small town tucked in against the slopes of the Bauges Mountains. De Challes was the name of the family of nobles who built the fortified house now known as the Château des Comtes de Challes. That was back in the 14th century. Towards the end of the 18th century ownership changed hands with the death of the last de Challes then in the early 19th century the owner at the time, a doctor, discovered the spring that the chateau became known for and that transformed the chateau into a hotel and spa. Nice looking place with a good restaurant that could make a great, but potentially expensive, base for cycling in the area. Ate there once, quite good, saw a couple of rooms that were pretty spectacular. The riding immediately at hand is better.
Long jaunt across the Chambéry agglomeration, mostly bike paths along the roads, first past a small military post complete with a really small airstrip then through lots of residential areas. Chambéry’s bike system is impressive but a person really needs a damn map of it to make any sense out of it. Got to the base of the south side climb in Saint-Alban-Leysse (the french like hyphenated names;now it’s the mode for women to use their maiden name hyphenated with their husband’s name. I keep wondering if that means that a daughter from a family with a hyphenated name will end up with three hyphenated names when she marries. Could get complicated.) Looked at turning right and heading up via the south side since the sky seemed to be thickening. So I did. And immediately turned around to keep my original heading with more bike paths, more small roads. Got to an intersection and saw a sign for one of the cycling circuits Savoie and Haute Savoie have in abundance. Looked like the road it was pointing up was maybe going where I wanted to go. Where I wanted to go was up and over a low ridge that butts down into the valley and downtown Chambéry. I knew the valley on the other side had small roads that would get me around to the north road to Mont Revard but from below there was zero sign of a road over the ridge. Had to be one. No way over the years a trail hadn’t evolved into a path into a cart track into a road. Crossing the ridge was too logical because having to go around was way longer. So I headed up, fingers crossed because I really didn’t want to have to turn around. I was also sure that if the road was there, whether paved or dirt didn’t matter, it would be more interesting than continuing to skirt through Chambéry.
Steep grades up a curving road, going no idea where for awhile then all of a sudden it hit me where this was heading. A place I’d seen numerous times in the distance and always wondered what it was like up there. Also a road with no exit. Got to an intersection with some super small road coming in from the left while the road I was on curled up some steep ramps on up the mountain. The ridge I wanted to cross was to the left so I turned left. And immediately got to a junction, one deteriorating road straight ahead up a hill, the second not much better to the left and back down the valley. No signs. Went left hoping for a road to the right as I could see the saddle of the ridge just right there in the woods not far off. Et viola, further down the hill than I imagined was the junction I wanted, small road going right. No signs but took it anyway. Over the saddle, down into a small gorge, and out into the valley I wanted. Small roads lined with rock harvested from the surrounding fields. One-laners, good fun, worked my way through several hamlets and out onto the main road up the valley. Main road but not a highway. Plus it was Sunday so hardly anyone about. Gray skies and lurking rain keeping sane people inside.
Long run up the valley, steadily gaining altitude but slowly. Huge fields to either side and set further back some sort of chateau subdivision. Did sort of look like that with a couple of smaller chateaus. Looked like the original owners had worked a deal with the architect and used the same design for both of them to keep costs down. I’m talking very modest chateaus here, really just extravagant country homes built by nobles down the A-list a ways. Maybe not even on the A-list.
Periodically I roll through a junction with a road heading off to the right. I ignore all of them. I know there’s a sweet series of small roads higher up the slopes that parallel the road I’m on. I rode down them when I came off the north side of Revard, following my nose taking all the small roads that came along and that looked like they were going where I wanted to go. Terrific roads but there was no way I wanted to ride them Sunday. I remembered there were some impressively steep ramps along the way. Sunday I would have had to ride up them. I wasn’t feeling that energetic.
Drops started to fall as I rolled into what is considered the start of the climb, the village of Trévignin. Part of me said damn, part of me said oh good, an excuse to turn around, but not quite yet. Wide road, good pavement, big views out over rolling hills and valleys, Mont Revard looming above to the right. Spotted a kilometer post with the grade on it. Still traversing fields with big views. Looked like a bit of a paradise for riding with small roads lacing the countryside everywhere I looked. My legs were telling me the ones angling off from my road looked especially attractive. They headed off either flat or slightly downhill. The road I was on went up into a thick forest that was looking wet and cold. The drops had stopped so I pressed on.
Around a switchback to the left and into the forest. Kept looking for another kilometer post with the grade, altitude, and distance to the summit. Hadn’t seen one in awhile. I was curious how far I still had to go, other than still quite a bit. More drops coming down, with more enthusiasm now, okay, a bit further then I’ll turn around. Long, angling traverse up the slopes and around onto the northern exposures. Rain stopped again. Still no kilometer posts. The road departments must remove them for the winter because I’d seen the same thing on the Col du Noyer, all the K/grade posts missing.
Most of the riding was relatively easy but there’d been a few Ks of pain, 9% +. I suspect they hurt as much because my legs were no longer in top form than because of the grades but still, anything over 8% starts to be hard, even for strong legs. The rain had pretty much stopped again and I kept heading up. Some wonderful views out through gaps in the trees. Gorgeous rolling countryside lapping up against the mountains, a region I didn’t know. Too far away from my house. Looks like some fine outings could be put together between Chambéry and Annecy with nothing but small roads to follow. In 013 the TdF dropped off Mont Revard by the road I was going up then did a long traverse from Trévignin along the base of the mountains until the final assault up the Semnoz, the mountain above Annecy. The roads they did weren’t the ones I was considering as potentially fine rides. I prefer the really small roads but then I don’t have a caravan of cars following me.
Rain started again, temperature dropped, plus snow along the road. Left over from the last storm. Conditions were not inspiring. Pressed on anyway, just a bit further, up far enough to have a good idea of where I was in the climb. Came around a hard bend, the road carved out of a cliff, big drop on the downhill side. Finally I could see enough ahead to see that I was pretty far up the mountain, but still a good bit of vertical to go. Started calculating whether turning around and riding back would be quicker than going over the top and dropping down. From the top down should be just about all downhill. All the while I’m calculating, I riding further up the mountain. The cold must have slowed down the brain functions because arriving at a decision seemed to be a sluggish affair. Actually I think I never had any intention of turning around. The day before I’d talked to the wife of my oldest friend, in age and in time. He wasn’t there because he was off hot-footing it from the top of the lifts to the summit of Highlands Peak to get first tracks in the bowl they’d just opened. I mean, there he was, 77 years old, 8 years older than me, and he’s jamming his way up a narrow ridge high on a Colorado mountain above Aspen just to ski back down. Plus the same day my son down in Boulder had done some huge ride with his buddies with 6500 vertical feet of climbing. Between the two of them there was no way I could turn around. Over the top was mandatory.
I passed that info on to my legs; they agreed, reluctantly. On into the snow we went. Rain stopped. Snow got deeper along the sides. Around a bend with a big view to the left of fields of snow stretching up to the ridge lines. Looking very much like winter up here. Stopped, shot a couple of pics, headed off. No more photo stops until somewhere up on the summit ridge. Combination of nothing all that interesting, just a forest of dark green and snow, and the need to get to the top so I could head down. The summit of Mont Revard is actually just off the road with a small road climbing up to it where there’s a restaurant, parking lot, and overlook. I rode past the turn, kept going straight ahead up onto the long crag the road follows. I was damp, cold, tired, didn’t need the summit views though the warmth of the restaurant might have been welcome. And hard to leave.
Got to the crag, crazy place actually. The road kind of lopes along the ridgeline right on the edge of the huge drop all the way down to the valley with Lake Bourget on the far side. Pretty spectacular views but not so much Sunday. Not enough light. Some fog on one shore of the lake. Stopped anyway to shoot a couple of times. Then back on the bike for the descent. Turned out it wasn’t much of a descent. I’d forgotten about that. Instead of a drop there were 3 or more Ks of not far off flat, like a K at 1%, a longer K at maybe 3%, steepest section at maybe 4, 5%. Most any other time I would have loved it. I mean we’re talking a curving, twisting road on top of a mountain, excellent pavement, nothing but fun riding. Only I was cold and beat and all I really wanted to do was get down to lower elevations where life would be at least a little bit warmer. So I jammed through with seriously diminished appreciation of what a terrific place it is up there. Spots of ice and mushy snow on the road didn’t do much to elevate my enthusiasm.
Finally hit the downhill, just let the bike go. Easy to do since most of the grades aren’t steep and the road for the most part is just a long squiggly line between the occasional hard curve or even switchback. Had to stop at one point to warm-up the hands, drink some more, eat some dates. Then off again. Long descent, seemed to last forever. Didn’t notice all that much warming up either but some at least. Got to the lower sections where the pitch dives down through some linked, round switchbacks. Normally would have been tucked in going for max speed through all this but not Sunday. I was just sitting up, letting the bike roll, spinning the legs enough to keep the muscles from freezing up. Hit the flat, turned left to ride the bike paths back to the car. Hit a slight grade, stood up and instantly my thighs let me know that was not a good idea. Sat back down, stroked along as smoothly as I could. Got to the car, stood straddling the bike for a minute or so while I decided if I could successfully swing my leg over the saddle. Oh man did that feel good. Even better was the thermos of still verging on hot coffee laced with Baileys waiting for me inside the car. Life returned. Another good ride. Around 65 K, 1500 vertical. Really has been a fine year. And it’s not finished yet! Yes, maybe one more good ride before flipping the calendar. Maybe.
Some pics.
Weekend rolled in, more grayness, maybe nothing more than suspended humidity. Sunday morning, watched the clouds slink in from the south. Looked north, Savoie skies not too bad. Mont Revard’s been jiggling around in my head for awhile now. Been it up once, maybe even twice but the first time so long ago I’ve forgotten. Last time was in 07. Rode with a friend and his son, up the south side from Chambéry, the easy side. Then down the north side, the road from Aix-les-Bains, or sort of from Aix-les-Bains. South side’s sun-washed cruising, an abundance of 6%, 7% grades, but with balloons of pain along the way, down low mostly. North side’s a forest run, lots of 7%, 8% grades but naturally some ramps of pain along the way. That’s what the profiles were saying. My legs knew the south side was solidly in the middle range grades and gravity had made it loud and clear the north side was steeper. Needed to ride up it to know for sure. Sunday seemed like a day to find out.
Parked in Challes les Eaux, small town tucked in against the slopes of the Bauges Mountains. De Challes was the name of the family of nobles who built the fortified house now known as the Château des Comtes de Challes. That was back in the 14th century. Towards the end of the 18th century ownership changed hands with the death of the last de Challes then in the early 19th century the owner at the time, a doctor, discovered the spring that the chateau became known for and that transformed the chateau into a hotel and spa. Nice looking place with a good restaurant that could make a great, but potentially expensive, base for cycling in the area. Ate there once, quite good, saw a couple of rooms that were pretty spectacular. The riding immediately at hand is better.
Long jaunt across the Chambéry agglomeration, mostly bike paths along the roads, first past a small military post complete with a really small airstrip then through lots of residential areas. Chambéry’s bike system is impressive but a person really needs a damn map of it to make any sense out of it. Got to the base of the south side climb in Saint-Alban-Leysse (the french like hyphenated names;now it’s the mode for women to use their maiden name hyphenated with their husband’s name. I keep wondering if that means that a daughter from a family with a hyphenated name will end up with three hyphenated names when she marries. Could get complicated.) Looked at turning right and heading up via the south side since the sky seemed to be thickening. So I did. And immediately turned around to keep my original heading with more bike paths, more small roads. Got to an intersection and saw a sign for one of the cycling circuits Savoie and Haute Savoie have in abundance. Looked like the road it was pointing up was maybe going where I wanted to go. Where I wanted to go was up and over a low ridge that butts down into the valley and downtown Chambéry. I knew the valley on the other side had small roads that would get me around to the north road to Mont Revard but from below there was zero sign of a road over the ridge. Had to be one. No way over the years a trail hadn’t evolved into a path into a cart track into a road. Crossing the ridge was too logical because having to go around was way longer. So I headed up, fingers crossed because I really didn’t want to have to turn around. I was also sure that if the road was there, whether paved or dirt didn’t matter, it would be more interesting than continuing to skirt through Chambéry.
Steep grades up a curving road, going no idea where for awhile then all of a sudden it hit me where this was heading. A place I’d seen numerous times in the distance and always wondered what it was like up there. Also a road with no exit. Got to an intersection with some super small road coming in from the left while the road I was on curled up some steep ramps on up the mountain. The ridge I wanted to cross was to the left so I turned left. And immediately got to a junction, one deteriorating road straight ahead up a hill, the second not much better to the left and back down the valley. No signs. Went left hoping for a road to the right as I could see the saddle of the ridge just right there in the woods not far off. Et viola, further down the hill than I imagined was the junction I wanted, small road going right. No signs but took it anyway. Over the saddle, down into a small gorge, and out into the valley I wanted. Small roads lined with rock harvested from the surrounding fields. One-laners, good fun, worked my way through several hamlets and out onto the main road up the valley. Main road but not a highway. Plus it was Sunday so hardly anyone about. Gray skies and lurking rain keeping sane people inside.
Long run up the valley, steadily gaining altitude but slowly. Huge fields to either side and set further back some sort of chateau subdivision. Did sort of look like that with a couple of smaller chateaus. Looked like the original owners had worked a deal with the architect and used the same design for both of them to keep costs down. I’m talking very modest chateaus here, really just extravagant country homes built by nobles down the A-list a ways. Maybe not even on the A-list.
Periodically I roll through a junction with a road heading off to the right. I ignore all of them. I know there’s a sweet series of small roads higher up the slopes that parallel the road I’m on. I rode down them when I came off the north side of Revard, following my nose taking all the small roads that came along and that looked like they were going where I wanted to go. Terrific roads but there was no way I wanted to ride them Sunday. I remembered there were some impressively steep ramps along the way. Sunday I would have had to ride up them. I wasn’t feeling that energetic.
Drops started to fall as I rolled into what is considered the start of the climb, the village of Trévignin. Part of me said damn, part of me said oh good, an excuse to turn around, but not quite yet. Wide road, good pavement, big views out over rolling hills and valleys, Mont Revard looming above to the right. Spotted a kilometer post with the grade on it. Still traversing fields with big views. Looked like a bit of a paradise for riding with small roads lacing the countryside everywhere I looked. My legs were telling me the ones angling off from my road looked especially attractive. They headed off either flat or slightly downhill. The road I was on went up into a thick forest that was looking wet and cold. The drops had stopped so I pressed on.
Around a switchback to the left and into the forest. Kept looking for another kilometer post with the grade, altitude, and distance to the summit. Hadn’t seen one in awhile. I was curious how far I still had to go, other than still quite a bit. More drops coming down, with more enthusiasm now, okay, a bit further then I’ll turn around. Long, angling traverse up the slopes and around onto the northern exposures. Rain stopped again. Still no kilometer posts. The road departments must remove them for the winter because I’d seen the same thing on the Col du Noyer, all the K/grade posts missing.
Most of the riding was relatively easy but there’d been a few Ks of pain, 9% +. I suspect they hurt as much because my legs were no longer in top form than because of the grades but still, anything over 8% starts to be hard, even for strong legs. The rain had pretty much stopped again and I kept heading up. Some wonderful views out through gaps in the trees. Gorgeous rolling countryside lapping up against the mountains, a region I didn’t know. Too far away from my house. Looks like some fine outings could be put together between Chambéry and Annecy with nothing but small roads to follow. In 013 the TdF dropped off Mont Revard by the road I was going up then did a long traverse from Trévignin along the base of the mountains until the final assault up the Semnoz, the mountain above Annecy. The roads they did weren’t the ones I was considering as potentially fine rides. I prefer the really small roads but then I don’t have a caravan of cars following me.
Rain started again, temperature dropped, plus snow along the road. Left over from the last storm. Conditions were not inspiring. Pressed on anyway, just a bit further, up far enough to have a good idea of where I was in the climb. Came around a hard bend, the road carved out of a cliff, big drop on the downhill side. Finally I could see enough ahead to see that I was pretty far up the mountain, but still a good bit of vertical to go. Started calculating whether turning around and riding back would be quicker than going over the top and dropping down. From the top down should be just about all downhill. All the while I’m calculating, I riding further up the mountain. The cold must have slowed down the brain functions because arriving at a decision seemed to be a sluggish affair. Actually I think I never had any intention of turning around. The day before I’d talked to the wife of my oldest friend, in age and in time. He wasn’t there because he was off hot-footing it from the top of the lifts to the summit of Highlands Peak to get first tracks in the bowl they’d just opened. I mean, there he was, 77 years old, 8 years older than me, and he’s jamming his way up a narrow ridge high on a Colorado mountain above Aspen just to ski back down. Plus the same day my son down in Boulder had done some huge ride with his buddies with 6500 vertical feet of climbing. Between the two of them there was no way I could turn around. Over the top was mandatory.
I passed that info on to my legs; they agreed, reluctantly. On into the snow we went. Rain stopped. Snow got deeper along the sides. Around a bend with a big view to the left of fields of snow stretching up to the ridge lines. Looking very much like winter up here. Stopped, shot a couple of pics, headed off. No more photo stops until somewhere up on the summit ridge. Combination of nothing all that interesting, just a forest of dark green and snow, and the need to get to the top so I could head down. The summit of Mont Revard is actually just off the road with a small road climbing up to it where there’s a restaurant, parking lot, and overlook. I rode past the turn, kept going straight ahead up onto the long crag the road follows. I was damp, cold, tired, didn’t need the summit views though the warmth of the restaurant might have been welcome. And hard to leave.
Got to the crag, crazy place actually. The road kind of lopes along the ridgeline right on the edge of the huge drop all the way down to the valley with Lake Bourget on the far side. Pretty spectacular views but not so much Sunday. Not enough light. Some fog on one shore of the lake. Stopped anyway to shoot a couple of times. Then back on the bike for the descent. Turned out it wasn’t much of a descent. I’d forgotten about that. Instead of a drop there were 3 or more Ks of not far off flat, like a K at 1%, a longer K at maybe 3%, steepest section at maybe 4, 5%. Most any other time I would have loved it. I mean we’re talking a curving, twisting road on top of a mountain, excellent pavement, nothing but fun riding. Only I was cold and beat and all I really wanted to do was get down to lower elevations where life would be at least a little bit warmer. So I jammed through with seriously diminished appreciation of what a terrific place it is up there. Spots of ice and mushy snow on the road didn’t do much to elevate my enthusiasm.
Finally hit the downhill, just let the bike go. Easy to do since most of the grades aren’t steep and the road for the most part is just a long squiggly line between the occasional hard curve or even switchback. Had to stop at one point to warm-up the hands, drink some more, eat some dates. Then off again. Long descent, seemed to last forever. Didn’t notice all that much warming up either but some at least. Got to the lower sections where the pitch dives down through some linked, round switchbacks. Normally would have been tucked in going for max speed through all this but not Sunday. I was just sitting up, letting the bike roll, spinning the legs enough to keep the muscles from freezing up. Hit the flat, turned left to ride the bike paths back to the car. Hit a slight grade, stood up and instantly my thighs let me know that was not a good idea. Sat back down, stroked along as smoothly as I could. Got to the car, stood straddling the bike for a minute or so while I decided if I could successfully swing my leg over the saddle. Oh man did that feel good. Even better was the thermos of still verging on hot coffee laced with Baileys waiting for me inside the car. Life returned. Another good ride. Around 65 K, 1500 vertical. Really has been a fine year. And it’s not finished yet! Yes, maybe one more good ride before flipping the calendar. Maybe.
Some pics.