velotel
10-22-2017, 10:10 AM
Feeling like I’m in a race, against the arrival of snow on the heights, against the time when the heights will beyond my capacity. Autumn’s been insanely gorgeous. Days of blue and still air. It’ll change one of these days. The transition won’t be easy. At least in my head. I’m having too much fun riding, exploring new places.
Every morning I look out and see the blue sliding in over the peaks, I’m like damn, I need to get out there and ride! Only there’s a life to live too. Getting wood ready for the winter, building stuff, preparing the garden, taking care of the house, doing what I can for my wife who’s fighting a malady that’s been refusing to let go and leave her alone.
Then there’s the age factor. Like how much longer can I keep going like this. Five, ten years. Five I like to think no problem, ten is hard to think about. I’ll be 82 then. That’s like ancient. Still jamming the heights at that age could be shaky, or maybe not. Damned if I know. What I do know is there are still so many roads I haven’t ridden yet that I want to ride and that damned window of opportunity is getting smaller.
Sunday I checked out a dirt road I’d ridden past every time I rode to the Cormet d’Arêches. Back in June when I drove support for my son and his riding buddies on their grand mountain bike tour with Blaise from Chamonix to the Med, I rode from our hotel in Arêches to the Col du Pré then kept going on up a dirt road I’d never ridden. Climbed another 300 plus meters (1000 ft) to over 2000 meters on this ridge looking down into the valley below the Cormet d’Arêches. Spectacular place, huge views, and I’m standing there in the evening light and wondering if there wasn’t some way to hook up that road I’d seen on the way to the to Cormet d’Arêches and where I was standing.
So, Sunday, did that road I didn’t know below the Cormet. Cheated and drove to Arêches instead of riding from Beaufort. Beautiful valley around Arêches, a pastoral landscape in a vertical dimension. It’s actually a ski town, one of the first ski stations in France in fact, but the ski aspect isn’t all that big. You could ride through and not even know there are some lifts on the mountain. Still comes across like a small mountain farm town blessed with a couple of restaurants and hotels. The one we stayed in back in June is the Hotel Viallet, built in 1924 and still in the same family. Good place. We slept and ate well there.
The road to Cormet d’Arêches is also the road to Col du Pré. The climb to Pré’s a good one with lots of steepness, like 9, 10% grades to entertain yourself on. Just above the village is a long series of switchbacks up a hillside of hay fields that are too steep for machines so they’re worked by hand. The old way, the hard way. I watched them cutting and raking the hay that way back in June, mostly women doing the work, impressive job. The road to Cormet d’Arêches branches off below the fields at the junction for Barrage de Saint-Guérin (Saint-Guérin dam). That’s what’s written on the sign. Behind the dam is Lac de Saint-Guérin. Rather beautiful lake when full but, like all reservoirs, not so attractive when not full.
Around 5,5 K from the junction with road to Pré to the above the dam, average grade almost 8%, with some considerably steeper sections in the mix. Below the dam it’s mostly up through a dark forest in a narrow valley. After the dam it’s a vast, almost treeless expanse of rumpled basins and encircling ridges. I adore the upper valley. One of my favorites. The road’s one of my favorites too. A generous one-laner glued to the contours, rustic blacktop with lots of patches. A beautiful climb.
Got to the road I wanted right where the pavement ends and the dirt and rock road to Cormet d’Arêches starts. A rather pleasant surprise. Turned out to be smoother and easier than the road to the Cormet. Huge views. Might have been easier but not by much as I was still firmly planted on my biggest climbing gear, 34/32. Did I mention the views were huge? My eyes weren’t big enough. Needed a wide-angle lens for my camera.
Came around a long switchback, finally saw where the road was going, to the summit of the ridge. Looked high up there. To the left in the distance what I hoped would be the connection with where I’d stood back in June. Tempted to stay on the road to the top to see what was there but decided to leave it for another time.
Around another long curve and got to the junction with the track I was pretty sure I wanted. More primitive, less used. A small sign said ‘Passage de Miraillet’ and an arrow pointing up the rustic track.
Hardest riding yet, and the further I got, the harder it got. But still ridable. Came around a bend and there it was, an obvious angling up across the mountainside to the ridgeline. Looked steep. A hike-a-bike. I’d kind of figured that would be the case. The road ended but with a relatively faint double-track continuing. Too rough and steep for me to ride so off the bike and hiking up and thinking that just ahead where the slope flattened out I’d be able to ride again. Got to the flat, the trail disappeared. I mean nothing there. Just a small herd of cows lounging on the hilltop looking at me like I’m some sort of alien who made a wrong turn.
Okay, bike on the shoulder, head across the hilltop then down a slope towards the trail angling down from above. Kept thinking I must have missed the trail because there had to be something. I mean a road below, a trail above, had to be a connection. Nope, nothing. Discovered why pretty quickly. The bslope was soggy from small springs and formed small basin of rivulets and bogs. Managed to make my way across by hopping between grassy mounds and circling the soggiest places.
At last, my trail. Looked like it might have been an animal track originally that humans started using and wore into a real trail. Once I was up on the trail and looking back down I could see where apparently there’s a trail of sorts linking across the hillside. Next time I’ll know where to look.
Pure hike-a-bike. Even with a mountain bike, or at least going up. Maybe going down but only by someone super skilled and a little bit nuts. At times it wasn’t even easy hiking up with the bike on my shoulder. That was when I’d half wonder what in the hell I was doing already! I mean I didn’t even know what I’d find on top and here I am hiking up this nutty trail with my bike on my shoulder. Spectacular views though.
And I’m up and there it is right in front of me, total awesomeness. I know, I know, I’m way too old for such dumb-ass phrases like that but, it was awesome. A pure and beautiful single-track contouring across along the ridgeline. And ridable, yes! In the end the hike-a-bike didn’t take all that much time, maybe a quarter hour at a guess. Definitely worth the effort. I hopped on the bike and rolled off on this tight but smooth trail and around a bend and stopped. No choice. A 360-degree view. To the north Mont Blanc in all its glory. Way down below Lac de Roselend, the reservoir between Col du Pré and Cormet de Roselend. Behind me and way below, Lac de Saint-Guérin and the undulating basins surrounding the valley. And everywhere summits and ridgelines into the distances. And not a cloud in the sky!
Okay, enough gazing, time to roll. Great place for some bowling and rolling but not with a drive home afterwards. The trail’s pretty amazing and and would be crazy fun with a mountain bike. Probably by a strong and highly skilled rider on a fat-tired road bike too. Maybe even by me on an exceptionally good day when I was willing to totally ignore risk factors. Maybe, but doubtful. So I walked a few small sections, all descents where the grade was steep, as in way too steep to even consider riding up. Otherwise I was having a ball dancing along this long, round ridgeline following this tight, smooth single-track. The ridge consisted of a series of round summits, each one progressively lower than the one I’d just crossed. The highest is Mont Coin high above where I joined the ridge after my hike-a-bike. I didn’t see a trail coming down off Mont Coin but I can’t believe there isn’t something coming down even though the slope is steep and long.
I’d roll over one hilltop, down the back side, riding if it wasn’t too steep which was mostly the case, walking when I didn’t feel like taking chances. Given that I was way the heck out there by myself, taking chances didn’t seem like all that brilliant an idea so prudence had a rather loud voice in my head. Up ahead in the distance I could see the dirt road I’d ridden up in June. This single-track on top of the mountain is pretty ridiculous and I’m laughing out loud at just how crazy good it is.
Come over the last low hill and rocket down and onto the dirt road that will take me down to Col du Pré. I’d also noticed another single-track angling down into the valley towards the Guérin reservoir and was a wee bit tempted by it but it was getting late in the afternoon plus I was tired plus I kept thinking about how much fun the descent down to Col du Pré followed by the excellent descent off Pré back to my car.
The plunge off of Pré was even more entertaining than I’d imagined. I came barreling down off the dirt road onto the pavement and started down. I’m flying, rip past a whole lot of cars parked along the road near the col. This was a Sunday and I’d been blown away by how many cars I’d seen parked in the various valleys. So I blow by all these parked cars and think I’m lucky they’re still parked and not cluttering up the roadway.
Oops, spoke too soon. A line of cars stopped on the road. The road’s a one-laner with occasional spots wide enough for cars to maneuver by one another so must be a car coming up. I roll by the line of cars and sure enough, there’s a car coming up. I hook right into a space, the car coming up goes by, and I’m now behind a line of cars heading down. They’re slower than I’d be running free but the road’s a twisty little guy so I’m biding my time, waiting for an opportunity to accelerate by. Don’t have to wait long. Blow by a couple of cars. Then another like of stopped cars. I roll by, duck in at the last moment, then off again. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. We’re talking a fast dance of braking, accelerating, diving through gaps, hanging back waiting, flying free when I could. No idea how many cars I passed. A lot. An amusement park ride to finish up a brilliant day.
That was a week ago. Today it’s raining. Snow on the heights and way lower than I was hoping. Damn! I selfishly wanted a couple more weeks of gorgeous, dry weather. I want to return and ride the first road all the way to the top then check out if a trail I spotted that heads back towards Cormet d’Arêches is ridable. And if it's not ridable, I'll walk it. Seems to be my new mode for getting high. Could be a another great loop. Damn! So much to ride out there and time’s sliding by.
Every morning I look out and see the blue sliding in over the peaks, I’m like damn, I need to get out there and ride! Only there’s a life to live too. Getting wood ready for the winter, building stuff, preparing the garden, taking care of the house, doing what I can for my wife who’s fighting a malady that’s been refusing to let go and leave her alone.
Then there’s the age factor. Like how much longer can I keep going like this. Five, ten years. Five I like to think no problem, ten is hard to think about. I’ll be 82 then. That’s like ancient. Still jamming the heights at that age could be shaky, or maybe not. Damned if I know. What I do know is there are still so many roads I haven’t ridden yet that I want to ride and that damned window of opportunity is getting smaller.
Sunday I checked out a dirt road I’d ridden past every time I rode to the Cormet d’Arêches. Back in June when I drove support for my son and his riding buddies on their grand mountain bike tour with Blaise from Chamonix to the Med, I rode from our hotel in Arêches to the Col du Pré then kept going on up a dirt road I’d never ridden. Climbed another 300 plus meters (1000 ft) to over 2000 meters on this ridge looking down into the valley below the Cormet d’Arêches. Spectacular place, huge views, and I’m standing there in the evening light and wondering if there wasn’t some way to hook up that road I’d seen on the way to the to Cormet d’Arêches and where I was standing.
So, Sunday, did that road I didn’t know below the Cormet. Cheated and drove to Arêches instead of riding from Beaufort. Beautiful valley around Arêches, a pastoral landscape in a vertical dimension. It’s actually a ski town, one of the first ski stations in France in fact, but the ski aspect isn’t all that big. You could ride through and not even know there are some lifts on the mountain. Still comes across like a small mountain farm town blessed with a couple of restaurants and hotels. The one we stayed in back in June is the Hotel Viallet, built in 1924 and still in the same family. Good place. We slept and ate well there.
The road to Cormet d’Arêches is also the road to Col du Pré. The climb to Pré’s a good one with lots of steepness, like 9, 10% grades to entertain yourself on. Just above the village is a long series of switchbacks up a hillside of hay fields that are too steep for machines so they’re worked by hand. The old way, the hard way. I watched them cutting and raking the hay that way back in June, mostly women doing the work, impressive job. The road to Cormet d’Arêches branches off below the fields at the junction for Barrage de Saint-Guérin (Saint-Guérin dam). That’s what’s written on the sign. Behind the dam is Lac de Saint-Guérin. Rather beautiful lake when full but, like all reservoirs, not so attractive when not full.
Around 5,5 K from the junction with road to Pré to the above the dam, average grade almost 8%, with some considerably steeper sections in the mix. Below the dam it’s mostly up through a dark forest in a narrow valley. After the dam it’s a vast, almost treeless expanse of rumpled basins and encircling ridges. I adore the upper valley. One of my favorites. The road’s one of my favorites too. A generous one-laner glued to the contours, rustic blacktop with lots of patches. A beautiful climb.
Got to the road I wanted right where the pavement ends and the dirt and rock road to Cormet d’Arêches starts. A rather pleasant surprise. Turned out to be smoother and easier than the road to the Cormet. Huge views. Might have been easier but not by much as I was still firmly planted on my biggest climbing gear, 34/32. Did I mention the views were huge? My eyes weren’t big enough. Needed a wide-angle lens for my camera.
Came around a long switchback, finally saw where the road was going, to the summit of the ridge. Looked high up there. To the left in the distance what I hoped would be the connection with where I’d stood back in June. Tempted to stay on the road to the top to see what was there but decided to leave it for another time.
Around another long curve and got to the junction with the track I was pretty sure I wanted. More primitive, less used. A small sign said ‘Passage de Miraillet’ and an arrow pointing up the rustic track.
Hardest riding yet, and the further I got, the harder it got. But still ridable. Came around a bend and there it was, an obvious angling up across the mountainside to the ridgeline. Looked steep. A hike-a-bike. I’d kind of figured that would be the case. The road ended but with a relatively faint double-track continuing. Too rough and steep for me to ride so off the bike and hiking up and thinking that just ahead where the slope flattened out I’d be able to ride again. Got to the flat, the trail disappeared. I mean nothing there. Just a small herd of cows lounging on the hilltop looking at me like I’m some sort of alien who made a wrong turn.
Okay, bike on the shoulder, head across the hilltop then down a slope towards the trail angling down from above. Kept thinking I must have missed the trail because there had to be something. I mean a road below, a trail above, had to be a connection. Nope, nothing. Discovered why pretty quickly. The bslope was soggy from small springs and formed small basin of rivulets and bogs. Managed to make my way across by hopping between grassy mounds and circling the soggiest places.
At last, my trail. Looked like it might have been an animal track originally that humans started using and wore into a real trail. Once I was up on the trail and looking back down I could see where apparently there’s a trail of sorts linking across the hillside. Next time I’ll know where to look.
Pure hike-a-bike. Even with a mountain bike, or at least going up. Maybe going down but only by someone super skilled and a little bit nuts. At times it wasn’t even easy hiking up with the bike on my shoulder. That was when I’d half wonder what in the hell I was doing already! I mean I didn’t even know what I’d find on top and here I am hiking up this nutty trail with my bike on my shoulder. Spectacular views though.
And I’m up and there it is right in front of me, total awesomeness. I know, I know, I’m way too old for such dumb-ass phrases like that but, it was awesome. A pure and beautiful single-track contouring across along the ridgeline. And ridable, yes! In the end the hike-a-bike didn’t take all that much time, maybe a quarter hour at a guess. Definitely worth the effort. I hopped on the bike and rolled off on this tight but smooth trail and around a bend and stopped. No choice. A 360-degree view. To the north Mont Blanc in all its glory. Way down below Lac de Roselend, the reservoir between Col du Pré and Cormet de Roselend. Behind me and way below, Lac de Saint-Guérin and the undulating basins surrounding the valley. And everywhere summits and ridgelines into the distances. And not a cloud in the sky!
Okay, enough gazing, time to roll. Great place for some bowling and rolling but not with a drive home afterwards. The trail’s pretty amazing and and would be crazy fun with a mountain bike. Probably by a strong and highly skilled rider on a fat-tired road bike too. Maybe even by me on an exceptionally good day when I was willing to totally ignore risk factors. Maybe, but doubtful. So I walked a few small sections, all descents where the grade was steep, as in way too steep to even consider riding up. Otherwise I was having a ball dancing along this long, round ridgeline following this tight, smooth single-track. The ridge consisted of a series of round summits, each one progressively lower than the one I’d just crossed. The highest is Mont Coin high above where I joined the ridge after my hike-a-bike. I didn’t see a trail coming down off Mont Coin but I can’t believe there isn’t something coming down even though the slope is steep and long.
I’d roll over one hilltop, down the back side, riding if it wasn’t too steep which was mostly the case, walking when I didn’t feel like taking chances. Given that I was way the heck out there by myself, taking chances didn’t seem like all that brilliant an idea so prudence had a rather loud voice in my head. Up ahead in the distance I could see the dirt road I’d ridden up in June. This single-track on top of the mountain is pretty ridiculous and I’m laughing out loud at just how crazy good it is.
Come over the last low hill and rocket down and onto the dirt road that will take me down to Col du Pré. I’d also noticed another single-track angling down into the valley towards the Guérin reservoir and was a wee bit tempted by it but it was getting late in the afternoon plus I was tired plus I kept thinking about how much fun the descent down to Col du Pré followed by the excellent descent off Pré back to my car.
The plunge off of Pré was even more entertaining than I’d imagined. I came barreling down off the dirt road onto the pavement and started down. I’m flying, rip past a whole lot of cars parked along the road near the col. This was a Sunday and I’d been blown away by how many cars I’d seen parked in the various valleys. So I blow by all these parked cars and think I’m lucky they’re still parked and not cluttering up the roadway.
Oops, spoke too soon. A line of cars stopped on the road. The road’s a one-laner with occasional spots wide enough for cars to maneuver by one another so must be a car coming up. I roll by the line of cars and sure enough, there’s a car coming up. I hook right into a space, the car coming up goes by, and I’m now behind a line of cars heading down. They’re slower than I’d be running free but the road’s a twisty little guy so I’m biding my time, waiting for an opportunity to accelerate by. Don’t have to wait long. Blow by a couple of cars. Then another like of stopped cars. I roll by, duck in at the last moment, then off again. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. We’re talking a fast dance of braking, accelerating, diving through gaps, hanging back waiting, flying free when I could. No idea how many cars I passed. A lot. An amusement park ride to finish up a brilliant day.
That was a week ago. Today it’s raining. Snow on the heights and way lower than I was hoping. Damn! I selfishly wanted a couple more weeks of gorgeous, dry weather. I want to return and ride the first road all the way to the top then check out if a trail I spotted that heads back towards Cormet d’Arêches is ridable. And if it's not ridable, I'll walk it. Seems to be my new mode for getting high. Could be a another great loop. Damn! So much to ride out there and time’s sliding by.