velotel
06-23-2015, 12:16 PM
Col du Chaussy followed by the superb track that traverses the mountains between Chaussy and the Col de la Madeleine seemed like the good call. I mean the TdF is going to ride Chaussy so a little preview just in case any of the teams ask me about it. Also because I hadn’t actually done the ride correctly. I’d ridden Chaussy with Maxn and my son but we just crossed the col and dropped down the back side. Later I rode up the back side to check it out and to explore the chemin to the Col de la Madeleine that I’d seen on a map. A late start that day meant I was unable to do more than check it out and discover it’s a potentially insanely good ride. Another day I returned with Maxn, did the same climb then all the way across the chemin and up to the Madeleine. An insanely good ride indeed. But the correct way to do it is definitely up the lacets (the stackbacks – switchbacks stacked up one on the other), over Chaussy, down to the junction, then up and across the traverse. Sunday I did that.
Wanted to get going early but the cards came up different. Noon when I exited the autoroute and parked next to the river. No problem, long day, lots of time, unless the clouds that had appeared coalesced into something significant. Calm roll up the valley, saving the legs for later, I hoped. Quite a few cyclists coming the other way. Wonder where they’re coming from. Nearing the start of the road to Chaussy, two riders coming down, one of them says something, probably in response to my finger waggle as they pass. Kind of odd though because it almost sounded like my name. Yea, right, I’m riding up the Maurienne Valley and cross somebody who knows me. I’m hallucinating and I didn’t even do a bowl. Maybe I should have.
Kept spinning along, thinking about the climb to come. All of a sudden I hear my name from someone behind me! Whoa! It’s Maxn! I wasn’t hallucinating. That was him coming the other way. He’d just come over the Croix de Fer and was on his way to the torture chamber, the Col du Glandon. Nicely reinforcing why I told him I had no interest in riding with him; he’s too strong this year. Busy training for the Etape du Tour that he signed up for. Personally I think he should have signed up for some sessions with a head doc the way he’s enjoying beating himself up this year.
Pretty crazy meeting him. I mean how many thousands of Ks of roads are there in the region, how many cols to ride, and how many minutes in the days! Plus we were only on the same section of road for maybe 5K et voilà our paths cross in that impossibly tiny opportunity window. Calculating the chance of that coming to pass could give a quantum computer a headache. Later Maxn told me that as he was riding past the bottom of the stackbacks he was thinking about that time when he, my son, and I rode it. And maybe a minute later he sees me! A magical world.
Into the lacets, man do I love this road. A work of art in a vertical garden. Holy smokes, what is going on, there are cyclists coming down. This puppy was the abandoned dog in the pound who everyone ignored and now all of a sudden riders are popping up like fleas. Nothing like getting included in the TdF to fill up the dance card. I keep wondering where they’re coming from. Up and backs or did they come up the back side, the hard side, like really hard. For me the stackbacks need to be ridden up, not down. They’re outrageously fun coming down but no chance to see anything. Better to go up because this is a visual delight.
Not sure what’s happening but I’m riding up with a remarkable, for me, ease. For once I’m not riding a single-speed, actually moving around between the three biggest cogs and only on the biggest cog from time to time. Jeez, maybe, just maybe I’m starting to find a bit of form this year. Then again I’m riding alone so saying that is safe. Always seems a bit incongruous to think I’m riding smooth and easy at the same time that I’m getting dropped!
Into the village on the small plateau after the stackbacks and I’ll be damned, these people are totally into having the TdF roll through. Bikes parked in the yards painted and decorated, strings of colorful flags spanning the streets, small cutouts of bikes I think in wood painted and attached to houses, fence posts, whatever. Cool.
Into the next village, more TdF decorations. I’m impressed. I wonder what the racers will think of this road. I know what I think; it’s a sweetheart. Excellent views, up close and in the distance. This was the latest in the season I’d been on the road and flowers were out in force, also a bit wilted from the heat and lack of water. I only had two bottles so couldn’t do much for them. Through the long curve back to the right and onto the traverse up to the cliff road. Been steady grades for awhile now but all of a sudden the road goes all limp and I’ve moved down 3, 4 cogs and am flying along. I’d forgotten this was here. I like it.
Didn’t last of course. Into the section with the wicked ramps, but they’re short. A bunch of riders coming down hauling some serious butt, looking very intense. Then a gap and some more, and a longer gap and the rest of the crowd arrives, way slower, looking a bit intimidated by the road plunging down. Into the balcony, the road carved out of a cliff, huge views down to the valley floor and out into the distance at the Col du Mollard and the Aiguilles de Arves jutting into the sky. That’s a great ride the Mollard, up the switchbacks through the forest above the Maurienne Valley then across the long traverse under a high ridge to the col. Really need to do that again.
Around the corner and into the upper valley, riding through a deciduous forest now. A strong wind out of the north had batted me around at times between the lacets and the cliff road but in here the air was calm. Still riding well, second cog, spinning, a strong rider would fly up this. Around a switchback to the left and I’m on the 23 cog! Cool. The TdF break will be on their big rings maybe! Cars coming down, nice sound, like from something old. Yep, a parade of Triumph Spitfires, one Herald, one TR-4, and an MG TD. The Spitfires were looking good, the TD wonderful, the Herald still looks a bit of an odd duck though.
Through the last village, the grade turns serious, out of the saddle, lots of effort, wind battering me around, coming in over the col. The final run onto the col could be brutal with this wind. It is. But at least no wind stands happen. You know, like a track stand only this is because the wind suddenly just stops you in mid-stroke, like a captured image of a rider at maximum effort. Lot of people on the col, two cyclists too, looks like they’re getting ready to leave. I roll on over and head down.
This is where the road becomes outrageous. A one-laner, smooth curves flowing into one another, blacktop perfectly buffed, and I mean buffed, like it’s waiting for an inspection or something. And the scenery, excellent, have to stop for some pics. Also add a layer. Wind out of the north is cold. And here come the two riders I’d seen on the col, turns out to be a couple, looking very racy in fast clothes. Bonjours exchanged as they glide by. Okay, back on the bike, instant acceleration. Has to be a hard-ass climb! The way the bike’s accelerating I’m guessing there are lots of double-digit grades through here. Tricky descent though, gravity pulling hard, the roadway one lane, max, turns blind. The road’s supposed to be closed somewhere up ahead due to work, probably getting ready for the TdF, so in theory there won’t be any cars coming up. In theory. I backed off anyway not wanting to test the validity of my theory on the hood of a car.
Another photo stop, which is totally against my nature, stopping during a descent. I stop anyway. Then off again, diving down the mountain. Arrive at the road closure. Typically french, it’s the weekend, no one’s working, so they left a rough dirt track for cars to follow around the work. Just exiting the other side are the two cyclists I’d seen earlier. I pass them just before the hamlet where the road to Madeleine heads off. Figure I won’t see them again. French roadies don’t do gravel. A few hundred meters up the road I stop to shed the layer I’d put on and eat something. This is where the climbing turns stiff. Figured some fuel might help. I hear voices, look back down and see the two riders stopped and shedding layers. Must have mistakenly followed my lead and headed up this road not knowing where it went.
I shoot some pics, eat, drink, and they ride by with him asking if all is okay, first in french and then in italian. No idea why. So I answer him in italian, all is well, thanks. Nice looking couple, good riders. I wonder if they know where they’re heading. Road’s a tight one-laner, blacktop buff, in a forest of deciduous trees and light and carpets of flowers. Also steep! Lots of double-digit ramps I’m thinking. I’m slowly closing on the couple then stop for some more shots and they’re gone.
What a crazy road. This is the kind of road cyclists passionate for riding in the mountains would pay money to ride. I mean, perfect blacktop, a road constantly snaking up a mountainside of enormous vistas, and no traffic. I wish I could transport you there so you could feel and see it for yourself because it’s a totally amazing place. I’ve left the forest behind, now it’s just rolling prairies of grasses and wildflowers and scattered clumps of trees, only the prairies are on the side of this mountain with the valley floor more than a 1000 vertical meters below (3300 ft). In the distance across the Maurienne Valley a ring of summits, some still white with snow, the higher ones over 3000 meters. And there I am cruising along on my bike, a road bike no less, the only other people in sight the couple up ahead, I’m rolling through a sea of silence, the madness of the valley left so far behind it’s in another world.
Over a roll and there’s the small lake, or probably more large pond than lake, in a shallow fold under the mountain. Lake of the Wolf in english. I look around, don’t see one. This is a place for a picnic with a fine bottle of wine and some good food. None of which I have, nor the time for that matter. Still some serious riding to do. Up through a short series of tight switchbacks overlooking the lake and onto a sort of tilted plateau, the road curling with the contours. In the distance Col du Mollard, the Aiguilles above the col. Col du Chaussy looks a long way away and much, much lower. Behind where Col de la Croix de Fer is there’s a huge mountain with a sprawling field of snow. Road still paved, gone pretty much limp now, fast and easy cruising through fields of flowers.
Over a round ridge, curl right, and the road does this slow transition from blacktop to dirt and rock. A few bicycle tire tracks in the dirt. Some narrow, some fat, most old but two are fresh. I’m impressed, apparently the couple not only know this road but they’re going all the way. The road’s all but flat, the dirt smooth and fast. Won’t last long, I know that, goes from fast and easy to slow, rough, and hard when it starts to wind its way up the slopes ahead.
Well now, look who’s coming back. Must have taken one look at the road when it starts to climb and decided maybe this wasn’t the way for them after all. Waves and smiles exchanged as they pass and on I go. I suspect they’re thinking that old guy is going to get to the same place they did and do the same thing, turn around. Nope, not this pilgrim. Hit the first ramp, surface more rocks than dirt now. Go into mountain biking mode, standing in a low crouch, the butt just grazing the saddle, arms pulling back on the handlebar, balanced on that line between power and maintaining traction. Lot of line picking, weaving from one side to the other, following the smoothness, the lines of least resistance.
I love this. I mean climbing on a road bike is easy, just a question of gearing. But in the dirt with rocks and gravel and sand everything shifts and it’s all about technique, not power. Wouldn’t mind a lower gear though. My 34/27 is right at the limit for the conditions. But the hard bits are all mostly pretty short and linked together with long sections of easier, smoother line picking. And every time I lift my eyes there’s this view!
I snake my way up the slopes, into a particularly rasty section that’s steep, rocky, and loose through a hard turn to the right. This is where the road skirts the edge of the ridge with a big plunge down the other side into the valley the road to the Madeleine is in. And with that I know I’ve got it in the bag. Still more climbing to do but the hard stuff is behind me. Only now I’m up on top of the ridge and that north wind is hammering me and it’s friggin cold! Time to add a layer, eat some more of my sandwich.
I’m in the ski area now, the road transformed into a service road for the lifts and trails. Across the basin I can see the Col de la Madeleine. For me this last part isn’t nearly as nice, too much static from all the lifts and trails and a ski area’s infrastructure. But the riding’s fun. The road goes limp and all of a sudden I’m on my big ring and flying across the slopes in a long traverse. I’m also freezing my butt off. Into the drop down to the junction with the road to the Madeleine. Only it’s not all downhill yet. There’s this little ramp to get over, steep sob too. Then it’s all downhill to the junction. And steep. Also rocky. A bit crazy at speed on a road bike but why not. Hit the junction, don’t even hesitate, I go left, the col is to the right. I’m deep into the out-ofs, out of water, out of food, out of energy, out of layers to add. And cold. Maybe I said that already. Like really cold. And it’s the first day of the summer! Only thing to do is fly down off the mountain, down to the heat. So I do.
A screamingly fast descent off the Madeleine. Good fun except for the part through the ski village where they’ve got these decorative rock strips in the road that are harsh on a bike. Slowly, ever so slowly, the air starts to warm. If I wasn’t going so fast it would be a whole lot warmer for sure. But going fast here is way too much fun. I come jamming through a nice series of turns, leaning over, carving through. Whoa! I’ll be damned, here comes the couple. The guy had recognized me right away and gave me a huge wave and smile which is why I knew who it was. I suppose I was hard to miss with my head of white hair streaming in the wind. I wonder if he was going well I’ll be damned, that road does go through and that old guy friggin rode it. If he can, we can, next time. Or maybe he just figured I was off my rocker.
Took at least half the descent to warm up decently. And never enough to take off a layer. Not until I was back at the car. That was great! A fine way to bring in the summer.
Some pics.
Wanted to get going early but the cards came up different. Noon when I exited the autoroute and parked next to the river. No problem, long day, lots of time, unless the clouds that had appeared coalesced into something significant. Calm roll up the valley, saving the legs for later, I hoped. Quite a few cyclists coming the other way. Wonder where they’re coming from. Nearing the start of the road to Chaussy, two riders coming down, one of them says something, probably in response to my finger waggle as they pass. Kind of odd though because it almost sounded like my name. Yea, right, I’m riding up the Maurienne Valley and cross somebody who knows me. I’m hallucinating and I didn’t even do a bowl. Maybe I should have.
Kept spinning along, thinking about the climb to come. All of a sudden I hear my name from someone behind me! Whoa! It’s Maxn! I wasn’t hallucinating. That was him coming the other way. He’d just come over the Croix de Fer and was on his way to the torture chamber, the Col du Glandon. Nicely reinforcing why I told him I had no interest in riding with him; he’s too strong this year. Busy training for the Etape du Tour that he signed up for. Personally I think he should have signed up for some sessions with a head doc the way he’s enjoying beating himself up this year.
Pretty crazy meeting him. I mean how many thousands of Ks of roads are there in the region, how many cols to ride, and how many minutes in the days! Plus we were only on the same section of road for maybe 5K et voilà our paths cross in that impossibly tiny opportunity window. Calculating the chance of that coming to pass could give a quantum computer a headache. Later Maxn told me that as he was riding past the bottom of the stackbacks he was thinking about that time when he, my son, and I rode it. And maybe a minute later he sees me! A magical world.
Into the lacets, man do I love this road. A work of art in a vertical garden. Holy smokes, what is going on, there are cyclists coming down. This puppy was the abandoned dog in the pound who everyone ignored and now all of a sudden riders are popping up like fleas. Nothing like getting included in the TdF to fill up the dance card. I keep wondering where they’re coming from. Up and backs or did they come up the back side, the hard side, like really hard. For me the stackbacks need to be ridden up, not down. They’re outrageously fun coming down but no chance to see anything. Better to go up because this is a visual delight.
Not sure what’s happening but I’m riding up with a remarkable, for me, ease. For once I’m not riding a single-speed, actually moving around between the three biggest cogs and only on the biggest cog from time to time. Jeez, maybe, just maybe I’m starting to find a bit of form this year. Then again I’m riding alone so saying that is safe. Always seems a bit incongruous to think I’m riding smooth and easy at the same time that I’m getting dropped!
Into the village on the small plateau after the stackbacks and I’ll be damned, these people are totally into having the TdF roll through. Bikes parked in the yards painted and decorated, strings of colorful flags spanning the streets, small cutouts of bikes I think in wood painted and attached to houses, fence posts, whatever. Cool.
Into the next village, more TdF decorations. I’m impressed. I wonder what the racers will think of this road. I know what I think; it’s a sweetheart. Excellent views, up close and in the distance. This was the latest in the season I’d been on the road and flowers were out in force, also a bit wilted from the heat and lack of water. I only had two bottles so couldn’t do much for them. Through the long curve back to the right and onto the traverse up to the cliff road. Been steady grades for awhile now but all of a sudden the road goes all limp and I’ve moved down 3, 4 cogs and am flying along. I’d forgotten this was here. I like it.
Didn’t last of course. Into the section with the wicked ramps, but they’re short. A bunch of riders coming down hauling some serious butt, looking very intense. Then a gap and some more, and a longer gap and the rest of the crowd arrives, way slower, looking a bit intimidated by the road plunging down. Into the balcony, the road carved out of a cliff, huge views down to the valley floor and out into the distance at the Col du Mollard and the Aiguilles de Arves jutting into the sky. That’s a great ride the Mollard, up the switchbacks through the forest above the Maurienne Valley then across the long traverse under a high ridge to the col. Really need to do that again.
Around the corner and into the upper valley, riding through a deciduous forest now. A strong wind out of the north had batted me around at times between the lacets and the cliff road but in here the air was calm. Still riding well, second cog, spinning, a strong rider would fly up this. Around a switchback to the left and I’m on the 23 cog! Cool. The TdF break will be on their big rings maybe! Cars coming down, nice sound, like from something old. Yep, a parade of Triumph Spitfires, one Herald, one TR-4, and an MG TD. The Spitfires were looking good, the TD wonderful, the Herald still looks a bit of an odd duck though.
Through the last village, the grade turns serious, out of the saddle, lots of effort, wind battering me around, coming in over the col. The final run onto the col could be brutal with this wind. It is. But at least no wind stands happen. You know, like a track stand only this is because the wind suddenly just stops you in mid-stroke, like a captured image of a rider at maximum effort. Lot of people on the col, two cyclists too, looks like they’re getting ready to leave. I roll on over and head down.
This is where the road becomes outrageous. A one-laner, smooth curves flowing into one another, blacktop perfectly buffed, and I mean buffed, like it’s waiting for an inspection or something. And the scenery, excellent, have to stop for some pics. Also add a layer. Wind out of the north is cold. And here come the two riders I’d seen on the col, turns out to be a couple, looking very racy in fast clothes. Bonjours exchanged as they glide by. Okay, back on the bike, instant acceleration. Has to be a hard-ass climb! The way the bike’s accelerating I’m guessing there are lots of double-digit grades through here. Tricky descent though, gravity pulling hard, the roadway one lane, max, turns blind. The road’s supposed to be closed somewhere up ahead due to work, probably getting ready for the TdF, so in theory there won’t be any cars coming up. In theory. I backed off anyway not wanting to test the validity of my theory on the hood of a car.
Another photo stop, which is totally against my nature, stopping during a descent. I stop anyway. Then off again, diving down the mountain. Arrive at the road closure. Typically french, it’s the weekend, no one’s working, so they left a rough dirt track for cars to follow around the work. Just exiting the other side are the two cyclists I’d seen earlier. I pass them just before the hamlet where the road to Madeleine heads off. Figure I won’t see them again. French roadies don’t do gravel. A few hundred meters up the road I stop to shed the layer I’d put on and eat something. This is where the climbing turns stiff. Figured some fuel might help. I hear voices, look back down and see the two riders stopped and shedding layers. Must have mistakenly followed my lead and headed up this road not knowing where it went.
I shoot some pics, eat, drink, and they ride by with him asking if all is okay, first in french and then in italian. No idea why. So I answer him in italian, all is well, thanks. Nice looking couple, good riders. I wonder if they know where they’re heading. Road’s a tight one-laner, blacktop buff, in a forest of deciduous trees and light and carpets of flowers. Also steep! Lots of double-digit ramps I’m thinking. I’m slowly closing on the couple then stop for some more shots and they’re gone.
What a crazy road. This is the kind of road cyclists passionate for riding in the mountains would pay money to ride. I mean, perfect blacktop, a road constantly snaking up a mountainside of enormous vistas, and no traffic. I wish I could transport you there so you could feel and see it for yourself because it’s a totally amazing place. I’ve left the forest behind, now it’s just rolling prairies of grasses and wildflowers and scattered clumps of trees, only the prairies are on the side of this mountain with the valley floor more than a 1000 vertical meters below (3300 ft). In the distance across the Maurienne Valley a ring of summits, some still white with snow, the higher ones over 3000 meters. And there I am cruising along on my bike, a road bike no less, the only other people in sight the couple up ahead, I’m rolling through a sea of silence, the madness of the valley left so far behind it’s in another world.
Over a roll and there’s the small lake, or probably more large pond than lake, in a shallow fold under the mountain. Lake of the Wolf in english. I look around, don’t see one. This is a place for a picnic with a fine bottle of wine and some good food. None of which I have, nor the time for that matter. Still some serious riding to do. Up through a short series of tight switchbacks overlooking the lake and onto a sort of tilted plateau, the road curling with the contours. In the distance Col du Mollard, the Aiguilles above the col. Col du Chaussy looks a long way away and much, much lower. Behind where Col de la Croix de Fer is there’s a huge mountain with a sprawling field of snow. Road still paved, gone pretty much limp now, fast and easy cruising through fields of flowers.
Over a round ridge, curl right, and the road does this slow transition from blacktop to dirt and rock. A few bicycle tire tracks in the dirt. Some narrow, some fat, most old but two are fresh. I’m impressed, apparently the couple not only know this road but they’re going all the way. The road’s all but flat, the dirt smooth and fast. Won’t last long, I know that, goes from fast and easy to slow, rough, and hard when it starts to wind its way up the slopes ahead.
Well now, look who’s coming back. Must have taken one look at the road when it starts to climb and decided maybe this wasn’t the way for them after all. Waves and smiles exchanged as they pass and on I go. I suspect they’re thinking that old guy is going to get to the same place they did and do the same thing, turn around. Nope, not this pilgrim. Hit the first ramp, surface more rocks than dirt now. Go into mountain biking mode, standing in a low crouch, the butt just grazing the saddle, arms pulling back on the handlebar, balanced on that line between power and maintaining traction. Lot of line picking, weaving from one side to the other, following the smoothness, the lines of least resistance.
I love this. I mean climbing on a road bike is easy, just a question of gearing. But in the dirt with rocks and gravel and sand everything shifts and it’s all about technique, not power. Wouldn’t mind a lower gear though. My 34/27 is right at the limit for the conditions. But the hard bits are all mostly pretty short and linked together with long sections of easier, smoother line picking. And every time I lift my eyes there’s this view!
I snake my way up the slopes, into a particularly rasty section that’s steep, rocky, and loose through a hard turn to the right. This is where the road skirts the edge of the ridge with a big plunge down the other side into the valley the road to the Madeleine is in. And with that I know I’ve got it in the bag. Still more climbing to do but the hard stuff is behind me. Only now I’m up on top of the ridge and that north wind is hammering me and it’s friggin cold! Time to add a layer, eat some more of my sandwich.
I’m in the ski area now, the road transformed into a service road for the lifts and trails. Across the basin I can see the Col de la Madeleine. For me this last part isn’t nearly as nice, too much static from all the lifts and trails and a ski area’s infrastructure. But the riding’s fun. The road goes limp and all of a sudden I’m on my big ring and flying across the slopes in a long traverse. I’m also freezing my butt off. Into the drop down to the junction with the road to the Madeleine. Only it’s not all downhill yet. There’s this little ramp to get over, steep sob too. Then it’s all downhill to the junction. And steep. Also rocky. A bit crazy at speed on a road bike but why not. Hit the junction, don’t even hesitate, I go left, the col is to the right. I’m deep into the out-ofs, out of water, out of food, out of energy, out of layers to add. And cold. Maybe I said that already. Like really cold. And it’s the first day of the summer! Only thing to do is fly down off the mountain, down to the heat. So I do.
A screamingly fast descent off the Madeleine. Good fun except for the part through the ski village where they’ve got these decorative rock strips in the road that are harsh on a bike. Slowly, ever so slowly, the air starts to warm. If I wasn’t going so fast it would be a whole lot warmer for sure. But going fast here is way too much fun. I come jamming through a nice series of turns, leaning over, carving through. Whoa! I’ll be damned, here comes the couple. The guy had recognized me right away and gave me a huge wave and smile which is why I knew who it was. I suppose I was hard to miss with my head of white hair streaming in the wind. I wonder if he was going well I’ll be damned, that road does go through and that old guy friggin rode it. If he can, we can, next time. Or maybe he just figured I was off my rocker.
Took at least half the descent to warm up decently. And never enough to take off a layer. Not until I was back at the car. That was great! A fine way to bring in the summer.
Some pics.