velotel
10-16-2017, 11:55 AM
Wanted to do this since September 016. Needed the right conditions. Like good form and someone to do it with. Long ride, lots of vertical, lots of steepness, need form for all that. Which never seems to quite arrive. And given my age, 72, my wife doesn’t like me doing these crazy rides by myself. Crossing Souchet would definitely qualify as being way out there, like no roads anywhere close, just a trail high on a mountain.
Those conditions never came together. But the weather did. Gorgeous autumn days, cool nights and warm days, perfect riding conditions. Only one thing to do. So I did. Alone and with whatever form I was able to put together for the day.
My fourth time up the road from Mizoën to the Plateau d’Emparis. I love it, one of finest roads I’ve ever had the good luck to ride, a graceful line sweeping up and across this steep mountainside above a narrow, brooding gorge. On the other side of the gorge La Meije, a 3984 meter high mass of rock faces, blue ice, and retreating glaciers. 1200 plus vertical meters of sustained climbing from the Chambon dam to the plateau. Steep but never desperate, mostly 8, 9% with the mandatory double-digits ramps from time to time, around 14 K of that. Then it slacks off during 3 K until the road crests just past the Refuge de Mouterres (good place to eat) and goes all flat and you’re on your big ring flying across the plateau. Out of those 17 K from the dam to the crest only the first 4 are paved, the rest relatively smooth one-lane dirt road.
Relatively the key word there. Conditions change with use and weather but for me the road has been pretty amazing in the smooth department. The first couple K or so of dirt are damn near as smooth as the preceeding pavement. It isn’t until around 5 K from the blacktop that the surface gets rocky, then 2 K later goes all smooth again. Makes for a crazy fast descent.
I still started up with waves of apprehension sloshing around inside my head though. Mostly because of this huge unknown, the section from the road on top of the plateau to the Col du Souchet then down the other side and eventually to the village of La Grave. Which was apparently all single-track and I didn’t have a clue as to what it would be like. Other than that the views would be spectacular. But, I really, really wanted to do it. It’s been in my head for months and I kept glancing at my sand glass and figured if I’m going to do it, I’d sure as hell better move my butt while I still can because there isn’t all that much sand remaining.
I swore I wasn’t going to stop and shoot pics during the climb. I’ve done that every ride and I’ve got a slew and a half of good shots. And I wanted to get up top as fast as I could to maximize the time for the unknown. And naturally I stopped and shot. The day was too beautiful, couldn’t help myself. But I didn’t stop much. Just when I had no choice. Or needed an excuse to rest the legs for a moment. I also set some goals, like if I could get to a certain point in 2 hours, I knew I could be up top in 3 and that should, I hoped, leave plenty of time to cross Souchet and drop down the back side.
Turned out I was riding well and made my 2-hour point with time to spare despite the photo shots. Then I made the top with an even fatter margin and with that I was off into the unknown. Kicked in with a K of downhill on a rocky road. Private road with a gate but a well-used space around one end so I rode it down to a stream crossing where I jumped onto the trail for Col du Souchet, 2 K away and 175 vertical meters (574 ft) higher.
Actually it was several trails. Like a braided stream bed. The trails frequently worn in so deep that pedal clearance was questionable so deciding which track to follow wasn’t obvious. Kind of crazy. Most of the time the grades weren’t all that steep but between me being tired, lack of a lower gear, and these trails sunk into the land, I ended up walking maybe half the distance to the col, maybe less. There were also a few short sections that were rocky and technical and as soon as I saw those, I stopped and walked. Wasn’t interesting in chancing a crash. I’m sure a stronger rider could ride damn near all that with a fat-tired road bike. With a full-on mountain bike, definitely no problem.
I rather enjoyed the walking sections. The views were so delicious that the only way I could take them in was by walking. On the bike all my focus was on the trail just to stay on it, or in it. No trees anywhere, no bushes either, just a vast, undulating alpine prairie sweeping up to distant ridges. The ocher grasses were dry and made a crackling, squishy noise when I rode over them. I did that whenever the riding looked easier there than on, or in, one of the trails.
I was totally entranced by the views. I enjoy emptiness, like in the desert, and this was definitely empty, but full of beauty that I almost couldn’t take my eyes off of. Then all of a sudden the amazing went into hyperdrive. I was on my bike, straining to keep it on line and moving forward. I could tell the col was just ahead and I looked up and damn near fell over. Right there in front of me was the summit spire of La Meije spearing a brilliant blue sky. Blew all my circuit breakers. I’d been expecting some sort of view like that, which is pretty much why I’d wanted to ride the trail so bad. So I knew it would happen but the reality dwarfed every image I’d imagined.
Far out! I’d made it, on the col, and in less time than I’d imagined. Tired but good tired, ready to press on. Into the absolute unknown. The climb to the col had been an unknown but at least I’d seen it in the distance from other rides on the plateau. But after the col was a blank. No idea what the heck I’d find. Other than a downhill. Which it was, in spades. Steep enough that I walked the first part of it. No hesitation at all. Stop, off the bike, hike down.
Then the grade eased way back and I’m back on the bike and having a ball. Still multiple trails, much of the time still rounded troughs, still tight pedal clearances, but all in all smooth and relatively easy riding. I mean it was downhill so the effort factor was eliminated. But definitely technical in the sense of having to pay attention all the time because the trails were, what, maybe 15-20 centimeters wide (6-8 in) channels. Then there’d be another steep section and I’d walk it, enjoying the views, feeling peaceful.
Went like that for maybe a K. I think I rode almost all the second half, right to a stream crossing I can’t imagine any mountain biker riding, not unless he or she managed to pull off some huge jump, landing on a steep hillside. Hell, it wasn’t easy just hiking down then up the other side with the bike on my shoulder. During which once again I thought about what a treat a fat-tired road bike is when it’s hike-a-bike time. Light and easy to carry.
From there on for maybe a K and a half was laugh city. A smooth trail contouring across a steep slope that was so flat and easy that I was cruising along in a bigger gear, but not the big ring. The hard part here was keeping the eyes glued on the trail because smack dab in front was la Meije and down to the right was this enormous drop down into the gorge. Just a crazy gorgeous place.
And I’ll be go to hell, people on the trail, two walkers, white heads, a couple, who looked ready to go into shock when they saw me coming towards them on a bike. This was around 4 hours into my ride and the last time I’d seen a person was way back in the start of the climb, maybe 3,5 hours earlier! I’ve never been out for so long on my bike without seeing people. And I wouldn’t see anyone else for another hour when the trail ended on the valley floor in the village of Le Chazelet. Naturally I didn’t mention this to my wife afterwards.
The joy finally came to a screeching halt on the ridge above Le Chazelet, some 325 vertical meters (1066 ft) below. Might have ended better if I’d gone left at a trail junction instead of right, maybe, then again maybe not. I went right because that looked like the trail with more use and in fact I saw mountain bike tire tracks in the first, of many, hairpin. So of course I thought, far out, I’m on the good trail. Which on a full-suspension mountain bike with massively fat, soft tires probably is indeed a good trail, maybe even a great one. But not with a gravel bike. Turned out the trail all the way down was covered with rocks, too fat to be called gravel, sometimes even fist-sized, so I don’t know what to call it. If the trail had been smooth, I’m pretty sure I would have ridden it, if not all of it for sure most of it. Even the switchbacks were generously round.
But I didn’t. I walked it, all the way down. Seemed like it took forever but in fact only took about 30 minutes. The whole way down I kept wondering if I’d gone left at that trail junction would I have ridden most of the way down. Based purely on looking at a map, maybe. The trail does this long contouring traverse then down a ridge that I could see that was pretty much all meadows. So maybe.
Chazelet, the end of the around 8 K of sustained single-tracking, a magnificent passage, one I’ll never forget. At the moment I’m inclined to think there won’t be a repeat but knowing me, and given the beauty of where I was, that could change. Like that I could find out if going left is better.
Now it was all pavement back to the car. Up out of Chazelet, over the hill and down to La Grave then down the valley, back to le Freney were I left my car. Almost 6 hours, but only 4,5 of moving time, shooting pics takes time, 52 K distance, 1844 meters of vertical (6050 ft), more than half the distance and almost all the vertical on dirt, that was some kind of excellent adventure indeed. What I call a classic.
Those conditions never came together. But the weather did. Gorgeous autumn days, cool nights and warm days, perfect riding conditions. Only one thing to do. So I did. Alone and with whatever form I was able to put together for the day.
My fourth time up the road from Mizoën to the Plateau d’Emparis. I love it, one of finest roads I’ve ever had the good luck to ride, a graceful line sweeping up and across this steep mountainside above a narrow, brooding gorge. On the other side of the gorge La Meije, a 3984 meter high mass of rock faces, blue ice, and retreating glaciers. 1200 plus vertical meters of sustained climbing from the Chambon dam to the plateau. Steep but never desperate, mostly 8, 9% with the mandatory double-digits ramps from time to time, around 14 K of that. Then it slacks off during 3 K until the road crests just past the Refuge de Mouterres (good place to eat) and goes all flat and you’re on your big ring flying across the plateau. Out of those 17 K from the dam to the crest only the first 4 are paved, the rest relatively smooth one-lane dirt road.
Relatively the key word there. Conditions change with use and weather but for me the road has been pretty amazing in the smooth department. The first couple K or so of dirt are damn near as smooth as the preceeding pavement. It isn’t until around 5 K from the blacktop that the surface gets rocky, then 2 K later goes all smooth again. Makes for a crazy fast descent.
I still started up with waves of apprehension sloshing around inside my head though. Mostly because of this huge unknown, the section from the road on top of the plateau to the Col du Souchet then down the other side and eventually to the village of La Grave. Which was apparently all single-track and I didn’t have a clue as to what it would be like. Other than that the views would be spectacular. But, I really, really wanted to do it. It’s been in my head for months and I kept glancing at my sand glass and figured if I’m going to do it, I’d sure as hell better move my butt while I still can because there isn’t all that much sand remaining.
I swore I wasn’t going to stop and shoot pics during the climb. I’ve done that every ride and I’ve got a slew and a half of good shots. And I wanted to get up top as fast as I could to maximize the time for the unknown. And naturally I stopped and shot. The day was too beautiful, couldn’t help myself. But I didn’t stop much. Just when I had no choice. Or needed an excuse to rest the legs for a moment. I also set some goals, like if I could get to a certain point in 2 hours, I knew I could be up top in 3 and that should, I hoped, leave plenty of time to cross Souchet and drop down the back side.
Turned out I was riding well and made my 2-hour point with time to spare despite the photo shots. Then I made the top with an even fatter margin and with that I was off into the unknown. Kicked in with a K of downhill on a rocky road. Private road with a gate but a well-used space around one end so I rode it down to a stream crossing where I jumped onto the trail for Col du Souchet, 2 K away and 175 vertical meters (574 ft) higher.
Actually it was several trails. Like a braided stream bed. The trails frequently worn in so deep that pedal clearance was questionable so deciding which track to follow wasn’t obvious. Kind of crazy. Most of the time the grades weren’t all that steep but between me being tired, lack of a lower gear, and these trails sunk into the land, I ended up walking maybe half the distance to the col, maybe less. There were also a few short sections that were rocky and technical and as soon as I saw those, I stopped and walked. Wasn’t interesting in chancing a crash. I’m sure a stronger rider could ride damn near all that with a fat-tired road bike. With a full-on mountain bike, definitely no problem.
I rather enjoyed the walking sections. The views were so delicious that the only way I could take them in was by walking. On the bike all my focus was on the trail just to stay on it, or in it. No trees anywhere, no bushes either, just a vast, undulating alpine prairie sweeping up to distant ridges. The ocher grasses were dry and made a crackling, squishy noise when I rode over them. I did that whenever the riding looked easier there than on, or in, one of the trails.
I was totally entranced by the views. I enjoy emptiness, like in the desert, and this was definitely empty, but full of beauty that I almost couldn’t take my eyes off of. Then all of a sudden the amazing went into hyperdrive. I was on my bike, straining to keep it on line and moving forward. I could tell the col was just ahead and I looked up and damn near fell over. Right there in front of me was the summit spire of La Meije spearing a brilliant blue sky. Blew all my circuit breakers. I’d been expecting some sort of view like that, which is pretty much why I’d wanted to ride the trail so bad. So I knew it would happen but the reality dwarfed every image I’d imagined.
Far out! I’d made it, on the col, and in less time than I’d imagined. Tired but good tired, ready to press on. Into the absolute unknown. The climb to the col had been an unknown but at least I’d seen it in the distance from other rides on the plateau. But after the col was a blank. No idea what the heck I’d find. Other than a downhill. Which it was, in spades. Steep enough that I walked the first part of it. No hesitation at all. Stop, off the bike, hike down.
Then the grade eased way back and I’m back on the bike and having a ball. Still multiple trails, much of the time still rounded troughs, still tight pedal clearances, but all in all smooth and relatively easy riding. I mean it was downhill so the effort factor was eliminated. But definitely technical in the sense of having to pay attention all the time because the trails were, what, maybe 15-20 centimeters wide (6-8 in) channels. Then there’d be another steep section and I’d walk it, enjoying the views, feeling peaceful.
Went like that for maybe a K. I think I rode almost all the second half, right to a stream crossing I can’t imagine any mountain biker riding, not unless he or she managed to pull off some huge jump, landing on a steep hillside. Hell, it wasn’t easy just hiking down then up the other side with the bike on my shoulder. During which once again I thought about what a treat a fat-tired road bike is when it’s hike-a-bike time. Light and easy to carry.
From there on for maybe a K and a half was laugh city. A smooth trail contouring across a steep slope that was so flat and easy that I was cruising along in a bigger gear, but not the big ring. The hard part here was keeping the eyes glued on the trail because smack dab in front was la Meije and down to the right was this enormous drop down into the gorge. Just a crazy gorgeous place.
And I’ll be go to hell, people on the trail, two walkers, white heads, a couple, who looked ready to go into shock when they saw me coming towards them on a bike. This was around 4 hours into my ride and the last time I’d seen a person was way back in the start of the climb, maybe 3,5 hours earlier! I’ve never been out for so long on my bike without seeing people. And I wouldn’t see anyone else for another hour when the trail ended on the valley floor in the village of Le Chazelet. Naturally I didn’t mention this to my wife afterwards.
The joy finally came to a screeching halt on the ridge above Le Chazelet, some 325 vertical meters (1066 ft) below. Might have ended better if I’d gone left at a trail junction instead of right, maybe, then again maybe not. I went right because that looked like the trail with more use and in fact I saw mountain bike tire tracks in the first, of many, hairpin. So of course I thought, far out, I’m on the good trail. Which on a full-suspension mountain bike with massively fat, soft tires probably is indeed a good trail, maybe even a great one. But not with a gravel bike. Turned out the trail all the way down was covered with rocks, too fat to be called gravel, sometimes even fist-sized, so I don’t know what to call it. If the trail had been smooth, I’m pretty sure I would have ridden it, if not all of it for sure most of it. Even the switchbacks were generously round.
But I didn’t. I walked it, all the way down. Seemed like it took forever but in fact only took about 30 minutes. The whole way down I kept wondering if I’d gone left at that trail junction would I have ridden most of the way down. Based purely on looking at a map, maybe. The trail does this long contouring traverse then down a ridge that I could see that was pretty much all meadows. So maybe.
Chazelet, the end of the around 8 K of sustained single-tracking, a magnificent passage, one I’ll never forget. At the moment I’m inclined to think there won’t be a repeat but knowing me, and given the beauty of where I was, that could change. Like that I could find out if going left is better.
Now it was all pavement back to the car. Up out of Chazelet, over the hill and down to La Grave then down the valley, back to le Freney were I left my car. Almost 6 hours, but only 4,5 of moving time, shooting pics takes time, 52 K distance, 1844 meters of vertical (6050 ft), more than half the distance and almost all the vertical on dirt, that was some kind of excellent adventure indeed. What I call a classic.