velotel
07-18-2017, 03:04 AM
Sunday, about as good a day or riding as I’ve ever had. Just about because there’s no way I can remember the past in all its nuances and feelings to even begin to make a comparison. Besides, the subliminal oscillations our lives vibrate to evolve over the years and what lit me up forty, fifty years ago is maybe only a barely perceived flash of energy today. But maybe not, maybe all that’s shifted is the magnitude of the waves.
That said, I’m sure the person I was at twenty-two or thirty-two or forty-two would have been totally blown away Sunday as much as the person I am at seventy-two was. It was one of those kinds of days and that kind of place.
The Plateau d’Emparis, a rumpled, rolling expanse of alpine meadows, an island of calm surrounded by jagged ridgelines and angular peaks plastered with snow and ice plus on one side a deep, narrow gorge of dark rock and plunging water. A magical paradise for those who love riding fat-tired road bikes. Just a good bit of climbing required to get to it, 1200 or so vertical meters (4000 ft), mostly hard, not desperate but definitely physical. The first 4 K, on asphalt, are the steepest, kicking in with a K plus at 12%! The dirt’s easier in terms of numbers but 9% on dirt is also distinctly harder than 9% on blacktop. That’s what the first 7 K of dirt averages, 9% or so. Sometimes steeper, sometimes less. Then life gets easier with 4 K or so of dirt around 8% but quickly dropping into low single-digits until a crest. Then it’s romp city, big ring, spinning fast and easy.
And laughing, or maybe crying and singing and dancing and generally exploding with pure joy and wonder at just how unbelievably gorgeous the place is. And you’re on a friggin bike! And flying over the road. Until you stop. Which you’ll do because the only way to take in everything is to stop and look in every direction because every direction is filled with beauty.
Third time for me up to the plateau, actually fourth if I include one time last fall in the car with my wife to have lunch at the refuge I like to stop at. Rode it in April but got stopped by snow short of the refuge. No snow this time. Temperature down in the valley was around 30C (close to 90F). Could have been a baker of a climb but a gentle wind out of the north kept the temp just about perfect. Region’s been suffering a drought for awhile now and it showed. The road covered with fine dust and slopes that are normally a carpet of green looked hot and dry. No trees with yellowing leaves yet but if this keeps up, there will be.
An honest climb, demanding but not draining, K after K of steady effort, the surface remarkably smooth. Not asphalt smooth but with my fat, soft tires, not so far off either. And always these views that at times can seem surreal. Like am I truly riding my bike in the midst of all this! And up high, waves of sound swirling in the currents of air sweeping over the slopes, the sounds of water crashing over cliffs, pouring down from the glacier and snowfields on La Meije, summit 3984 meters (13070 ft), a spire of rock and ice and snow, one of the most spectacular peaks in the french Alps. And occasionally the sharp whistles of marmots echoing around basins. Watched a flight of I think hawks or at least definitely some raptor (my eyesight isn’t great anymore) gliding over the slopes. Must have been at least 10 of them. I’ve never seen that before, never even heard of it in fact. Usually they’re alone or in pairs.
Swept past the turn for the refuge then flew by my previous high point and out across the plateau, spinning a 50/14, on dirt, flat and fast. Got to a large parking area filled with cars left by people off hiking on the plateau, or maybe some mountain biking. Curled around a hill, the road climbing to its high point. After that it dives into a series of switchbacks down the mountain to the village of Besse. I stopped, shot some pics, glanced up and saw a huge cairn on what appeared to be the summit just above me. Bike on the shoulder, headed up, wanted to see what was up there, check out what I was sure would be a spectacular panorama.
It was. Parked the bike against the cairn for the traditional summit photo. If I’d remembered my camera can shoot video, I would have shot a panoramic. Great view of the shallow valley leading to Col Souchet, my next visit’s destination. My head wanted to go there now, my legs said no way, time agreed with my legs.
Thought that where there’s a cairn like this one, has to be a trail. Strolled off a few meters and there it was. Hopped on the bike, rolled off, some single-tracking on top of the mountain then down towards the parking. Pitch steepened, riding trickier, stopped, walked the rest. Easier that way. Onto the road and headed back the way I’d come. Fast, like the fastest dirt descent I’ve ever done on my gravel bike. Crazy fast at times. Following one or the other of the lines made by the passage of cars. No idea what speeds I hit. No way I was going to take my eyes off the line to look at the Garmin readout. Which isn’t all that accurate anyway. At a guess I’d say I probably topped out at somewhere between 50 and 60 kph, but most of the time probably around 35-40. The bike hopping around, stones pinging off the frame, tires skittering in the turns, good times.
Like I said, one of the best days of riding I’ve ever had. A gem of a ride, a have-to, for anyone who enjoys riding the dirt on a fat-tired road bike.
That said, I’m sure the person I was at twenty-two or thirty-two or forty-two would have been totally blown away Sunday as much as the person I am at seventy-two was. It was one of those kinds of days and that kind of place.
The Plateau d’Emparis, a rumpled, rolling expanse of alpine meadows, an island of calm surrounded by jagged ridgelines and angular peaks plastered with snow and ice plus on one side a deep, narrow gorge of dark rock and plunging water. A magical paradise for those who love riding fat-tired road bikes. Just a good bit of climbing required to get to it, 1200 or so vertical meters (4000 ft), mostly hard, not desperate but definitely physical. The first 4 K, on asphalt, are the steepest, kicking in with a K plus at 12%! The dirt’s easier in terms of numbers but 9% on dirt is also distinctly harder than 9% on blacktop. That’s what the first 7 K of dirt averages, 9% or so. Sometimes steeper, sometimes less. Then life gets easier with 4 K or so of dirt around 8% but quickly dropping into low single-digits until a crest. Then it’s romp city, big ring, spinning fast and easy.
And laughing, or maybe crying and singing and dancing and generally exploding with pure joy and wonder at just how unbelievably gorgeous the place is. And you’re on a friggin bike! And flying over the road. Until you stop. Which you’ll do because the only way to take in everything is to stop and look in every direction because every direction is filled with beauty.
Third time for me up to the plateau, actually fourth if I include one time last fall in the car with my wife to have lunch at the refuge I like to stop at. Rode it in April but got stopped by snow short of the refuge. No snow this time. Temperature down in the valley was around 30C (close to 90F). Could have been a baker of a climb but a gentle wind out of the north kept the temp just about perfect. Region’s been suffering a drought for awhile now and it showed. The road covered with fine dust and slopes that are normally a carpet of green looked hot and dry. No trees with yellowing leaves yet but if this keeps up, there will be.
An honest climb, demanding but not draining, K after K of steady effort, the surface remarkably smooth. Not asphalt smooth but with my fat, soft tires, not so far off either. And always these views that at times can seem surreal. Like am I truly riding my bike in the midst of all this! And up high, waves of sound swirling in the currents of air sweeping over the slopes, the sounds of water crashing over cliffs, pouring down from the glacier and snowfields on La Meije, summit 3984 meters (13070 ft), a spire of rock and ice and snow, one of the most spectacular peaks in the french Alps. And occasionally the sharp whistles of marmots echoing around basins. Watched a flight of I think hawks or at least definitely some raptor (my eyesight isn’t great anymore) gliding over the slopes. Must have been at least 10 of them. I’ve never seen that before, never even heard of it in fact. Usually they’re alone or in pairs.
Swept past the turn for the refuge then flew by my previous high point and out across the plateau, spinning a 50/14, on dirt, flat and fast. Got to a large parking area filled with cars left by people off hiking on the plateau, or maybe some mountain biking. Curled around a hill, the road climbing to its high point. After that it dives into a series of switchbacks down the mountain to the village of Besse. I stopped, shot some pics, glanced up and saw a huge cairn on what appeared to be the summit just above me. Bike on the shoulder, headed up, wanted to see what was up there, check out what I was sure would be a spectacular panorama.
It was. Parked the bike against the cairn for the traditional summit photo. If I’d remembered my camera can shoot video, I would have shot a panoramic. Great view of the shallow valley leading to Col Souchet, my next visit’s destination. My head wanted to go there now, my legs said no way, time agreed with my legs.
Thought that where there’s a cairn like this one, has to be a trail. Strolled off a few meters and there it was. Hopped on the bike, rolled off, some single-tracking on top of the mountain then down towards the parking. Pitch steepened, riding trickier, stopped, walked the rest. Easier that way. Onto the road and headed back the way I’d come. Fast, like the fastest dirt descent I’ve ever done on my gravel bike. Crazy fast at times. Following one or the other of the lines made by the passage of cars. No idea what speeds I hit. No way I was going to take my eyes off the line to look at the Garmin readout. Which isn’t all that accurate anyway. At a guess I’d say I probably topped out at somewhere between 50 and 60 kph, but most of the time probably around 35-40. The bike hopping around, stones pinging off the frame, tires skittering in the turns, good times.
Like I said, one of the best days of riding I’ve ever had. A gem of a ride, a have-to, for anyone who enjoys riding the dirt on a fat-tired road bike.