velotel
08-07-2018, 03:35 AM
By the road from Ugine, a bucket lister, for climbers. Maybe the finest, least known, big (paved) climb in the french Alps. But only for those who enjoy roads with what I call rustic asphalt. Tar heavily laden with large gravel, lots of cracks, patches, rolls, dips, and ragged, raw, eroding road edges. Buffed is an unknown concept on this puppy. Or at least since the asphalt was first laid down long ago.
A gorgeous road. For the first 9 K mostly a sqeezable two-laner, with care, and frequently a one-laner. Paint an unknown commodity. But there are guard rails. A have-to given the steepness of the slope the road angles up across. There’s a junction a few K from the valley floor, straight ahead Col de la Forclaz, a good climb, but short, the col’s low, 871 meters. To the left the road to Crest-Voland, part of the les Saisies ski station. That’s the road to Bisanne.
This is where things becomes interesting. The road’s kind of like somebody draped a string over the slopes from the junction to Crest-Voland. It twists, curls, sags, and rises, glued to every contour through a thick forest of mostly deciduous trees. A tree tunnel, with lots of vertical space. Translation : deep, cool shade pretty much all day. Which is what I wanted Sunday.
A huge heat wave has been stagnating over southeastern France, and maybe elsewhere, cooking anything out in the open. Like cyclists in steep climbs. Ran a quick eye over my mental list of big climbs (that’s what I wanted, a big climb) and came up with Bisanne. Nothing else close in the shade department. Or at least for the first half, the second half is another story. But the second half is high.
The road to Crest-Voland. I’d sort of forgotten how steep it is. I knew it was steep and all that but sometimes memories kind of flatten out the hard spots. Plus maybe the last time I rode it was on a particularly good day because I remember thinking it wasn’t as steep as I remembered. And that was with a 34/29 for my climbing gear. Now I’m running a 30/32 for climbing. Should be a piece of cake.
It wasn’t. Or at least cake eaten slowly. On the other hand I did notice that I was able to spin relatively comfortably up the steepest ramps as opposed to fighting my way up ‘em. And as soon as the pitch eased off I could get a nice rest while still spinning.
This was either my third or fourth time up this road. Already have pics from those rides. Had to stop and shoot more anyway. And it wasn’t even a particularly gorgeous day, the air thick and hot. But between the ease of whipping out my iphone to shoot and the pure beauty of where I was, from time to time I had to stop. And of course while stopped to shoot, might as well knock down some water, relax the legs. Explaining why not even 9 K into the ride when I spotted an older guy outside his house at a table in the shade with a drink in front of him, I rolled in and asked if I could refill my water bottle. Wasn’t quite empty but I knew I’d not see another house for a long time and the upper half was going to be a baker so top off the supply. Nice guy, retired, knows the area well, knows the road I was going to ride up the mountain well, in a 4x4, not on a bike. Topped off, time to roll.
Got to the junction 400 meters after the guy’s house. Various signs on posts but not one gives even a hint that the road goes to Bisanne 1500, the ski station, and on to the summit of Mont Bisanne. Just an anonymous forest road, but paved. Even more rustic than the first road. A generous one-laner, and still no paint. No guardrails either. Sometimes smoother than the real road, but rarely, Places where the asphalt’s completely disappeared, revealing the original dirt and rock road bladed out of the forest. Looks like all they did was lay a carpet of asphalt over the original road and called it good. Works for me, no problem. Lots of places where the road’s got this green tint from the moss growing on it. I always think it’ll be slippery when wet but never found that to be so. Moss pretty much growing everywhere, on rocks, on trees, probably even on slow moving mice. Or cyclists. I checked, didn’t have any.
The road winding up the mountain, grades easier than on the real road. Get to a junction, another forest road heading off back to the left to a dead end somewhere. With a sign, I’ve forgotten exactly what it says but basically something like thanks for visiting the Val d’Arly, the Arly Valley. Always makes me laugh. I mean we’re in the middle of nowhere on this huge hill on a road hardly anyone drives and here’s this sign thanking folks for visiting, or in the other direction welcoming them. I always thank them in turn as I ride by. Politeness generating politeness.
The forest thins, more openings where the sun crashes through. Up until now views have been nothing more than quick glimpses, a flash of valley or mountain in the distance. Here views are opening up. Grade eases more when the road starts a slow curve around the mountain onto the south-facing slopes and the long traverse to the ski area. Vegetation changing. Mostly conifers and bushes and flowers that like lots of sun and heat and dry soil. Sun’s baking, the heat like this force that practically smacks me off my line. We’re talking intense. Can’t imagine what it’s like down in the valley.
The traverse across the flanks of the mountain goes on and on, steadily climbing, mostly mild grades, road surface crumbling and all but gone in places, other sections smooth, relatively, and fast, one section carved out of a rock cliff. And always to the right and way below the narrow valley from Albertville to Beaufort. I’ve ridden that; it’s better up here.
Just ahead a rise I remember. Hard to forget because just beyond the top the road curves left and wham, right in front in the distance the mass of Mont Blanc. First time I came here I had no idea I’d see Mont Blanc. A wonderful surprise. No Mont Blanc today, a sea of clouds surging over the slopes, only glimpses of snow and rock. Looks like thunder storms on their way.
A fast downhill, the bike hopping around on the rippled, ragged surface. Into a junction, a paved road, almost two lanes, still no paint. And I’m in the climb to Signal de Bisanne. First Bisanne 1500, a modest ski station, mostly just some low apartment buildings and houses and a small commercial center. There is no old village, just relatively modern housing for people on holiday.
Join the main road up the mountain, the one the TdF rode this year. I’ve been dreading this. From that point to the summit is pretty much sustained brutality. The last 2 K average almost 11%, a mix of 9% to 14% ramps! The views through here are spectacular. All I could do at that point was concentrate on moving up the mountain so I barely even noticed them, except when I stopped twice for photos. And water. Emptied the second bottle. Around 2 liters of water consumed from the time I left the car.
Managed to get to the summit, slowly. What was wiping me out were those fierce ramps. I’d be on some section that was plenty stiff then I’d look up and see the road soaring up like a wall. Only briefly of course, 50, 75 meters, but man oh so hard. I suffered.
Plus the sky is flicking drops of rain at me with lightning flashing in the distance, telling me to hurry up. Except hurrying up disappeared from my repertoire way back in the forest in the lower part of the climb. I ignore the message, press on as best I can. The road’s so narrow up here cars have to slow way down and put the outside wheels on the edge of the road surface, and sometimes off, while I’m hugging the other side of the road and hoping like hell I don’t just fall over into the path of some car. Might have been one of the hardest finishes to any ride I’ve ever done. More me than the road to be honest but from what I’ve seen, everybody thinks the last few K are brutal.
Made it, rode past the summit restaurant, got off the bike without falling, barely, shot some pics, watched the rain coming in, didn’t even have time to eat my sandwich. Stuffed my phone and walnut in the plastic sack I carry along for such occasions and headed down, The sky opened up. A hundred meters into the descent and I was soaked. Could be an interesting descent. I was sure if I returned by the road I came up, instead of doing a loop, I’d ride out of the rain pretty quickly.
Took a little longer than I expected but by the time I was back to the high point on the forest road, no more rain. Down I went, 15 K of sustained, highly entertaining, sometimes very fast descending. My hands and arms were screaming for relief before I was even halfway down. I ignored them. The speed too much fun. I was also dry, except for my shoes; they were still soaked.
A wonderful plunge off the mountain, weaving over the surface, following the good lines, carving through the forest, the bike a scalpel slicing through the curves. On and on. 35 – 40 minutes of sustained descending, during which I crossed a grand total of 2 cars, both in the bottom half, none on the forest road. A stunningly good descent beautifully showcasing the joys of a fat-tired road bike.
Got to the car and now I knew what heat was. Must have been close to 40° (104 F). Bike in the car, clothes changed, behind the wheel ready to roll, and the deluge arrives! Talk about timing. Didn’t last long. By the time I got to Albertville the rain had stopped, the sky mostly blue. And to really make it a wrap, drove back up onto the plateau where I live and the rains splashed down again with abandon. Thankfully, we needed the rain, big time, and still need more. Like me, I needed that ride, big time, even if it did about kill me, and I need more.
Oh yea, my bike shone on that ride, especially coming down. Handled the worst conditions with aplomb, and raced down the rest with a sureness and precision that at times left me in awe, fully enjoying what the bike was doing.
There it is, Signal de Bisanne (called that because of the radio towers on the summit) by the road from Ugine, a have-to. Up and back, around 45 K with 1750 vertical (28 miles, 5740 ft), Some ride.
Some pics, and for those who ask where's the shot of my bike, that's included, including one of me with the bike
A gorgeous road. For the first 9 K mostly a sqeezable two-laner, with care, and frequently a one-laner. Paint an unknown commodity. But there are guard rails. A have-to given the steepness of the slope the road angles up across. There’s a junction a few K from the valley floor, straight ahead Col de la Forclaz, a good climb, but short, the col’s low, 871 meters. To the left the road to Crest-Voland, part of the les Saisies ski station. That’s the road to Bisanne.
This is where things becomes interesting. The road’s kind of like somebody draped a string over the slopes from the junction to Crest-Voland. It twists, curls, sags, and rises, glued to every contour through a thick forest of mostly deciduous trees. A tree tunnel, with lots of vertical space. Translation : deep, cool shade pretty much all day. Which is what I wanted Sunday.
A huge heat wave has been stagnating over southeastern France, and maybe elsewhere, cooking anything out in the open. Like cyclists in steep climbs. Ran a quick eye over my mental list of big climbs (that’s what I wanted, a big climb) and came up with Bisanne. Nothing else close in the shade department. Or at least for the first half, the second half is another story. But the second half is high.
The road to Crest-Voland. I’d sort of forgotten how steep it is. I knew it was steep and all that but sometimes memories kind of flatten out the hard spots. Plus maybe the last time I rode it was on a particularly good day because I remember thinking it wasn’t as steep as I remembered. And that was with a 34/29 for my climbing gear. Now I’m running a 30/32 for climbing. Should be a piece of cake.
It wasn’t. Or at least cake eaten slowly. On the other hand I did notice that I was able to spin relatively comfortably up the steepest ramps as opposed to fighting my way up ‘em. And as soon as the pitch eased off I could get a nice rest while still spinning.
This was either my third or fourth time up this road. Already have pics from those rides. Had to stop and shoot more anyway. And it wasn’t even a particularly gorgeous day, the air thick and hot. But between the ease of whipping out my iphone to shoot and the pure beauty of where I was, from time to time I had to stop. And of course while stopped to shoot, might as well knock down some water, relax the legs. Explaining why not even 9 K into the ride when I spotted an older guy outside his house at a table in the shade with a drink in front of him, I rolled in and asked if I could refill my water bottle. Wasn’t quite empty but I knew I’d not see another house for a long time and the upper half was going to be a baker so top off the supply. Nice guy, retired, knows the area well, knows the road I was going to ride up the mountain well, in a 4x4, not on a bike. Topped off, time to roll.
Got to the junction 400 meters after the guy’s house. Various signs on posts but not one gives even a hint that the road goes to Bisanne 1500, the ski station, and on to the summit of Mont Bisanne. Just an anonymous forest road, but paved. Even more rustic than the first road. A generous one-laner, and still no paint. No guardrails either. Sometimes smoother than the real road, but rarely, Places where the asphalt’s completely disappeared, revealing the original dirt and rock road bladed out of the forest. Looks like all they did was lay a carpet of asphalt over the original road and called it good. Works for me, no problem. Lots of places where the road’s got this green tint from the moss growing on it. I always think it’ll be slippery when wet but never found that to be so. Moss pretty much growing everywhere, on rocks, on trees, probably even on slow moving mice. Or cyclists. I checked, didn’t have any.
The road winding up the mountain, grades easier than on the real road. Get to a junction, another forest road heading off back to the left to a dead end somewhere. With a sign, I’ve forgotten exactly what it says but basically something like thanks for visiting the Val d’Arly, the Arly Valley. Always makes me laugh. I mean we’re in the middle of nowhere on this huge hill on a road hardly anyone drives and here’s this sign thanking folks for visiting, or in the other direction welcoming them. I always thank them in turn as I ride by. Politeness generating politeness.
The forest thins, more openings where the sun crashes through. Up until now views have been nothing more than quick glimpses, a flash of valley or mountain in the distance. Here views are opening up. Grade eases more when the road starts a slow curve around the mountain onto the south-facing slopes and the long traverse to the ski area. Vegetation changing. Mostly conifers and bushes and flowers that like lots of sun and heat and dry soil. Sun’s baking, the heat like this force that practically smacks me off my line. We’re talking intense. Can’t imagine what it’s like down in the valley.
The traverse across the flanks of the mountain goes on and on, steadily climbing, mostly mild grades, road surface crumbling and all but gone in places, other sections smooth, relatively, and fast, one section carved out of a rock cliff. And always to the right and way below the narrow valley from Albertville to Beaufort. I’ve ridden that; it’s better up here.
Just ahead a rise I remember. Hard to forget because just beyond the top the road curves left and wham, right in front in the distance the mass of Mont Blanc. First time I came here I had no idea I’d see Mont Blanc. A wonderful surprise. No Mont Blanc today, a sea of clouds surging over the slopes, only glimpses of snow and rock. Looks like thunder storms on their way.
A fast downhill, the bike hopping around on the rippled, ragged surface. Into a junction, a paved road, almost two lanes, still no paint. And I’m in the climb to Signal de Bisanne. First Bisanne 1500, a modest ski station, mostly just some low apartment buildings and houses and a small commercial center. There is no old village, just relatively modern housing for people on holiday.
Join the main road up the mountain, the one the TdF rode this year. I’ve been dreading this. From that point to the summit is pretty much sustained brutality. The last 2 K average almost 11%, a mix of 9% to 14% ramps! The views through here are spectacular. All I could do at that point was concentrate on moving up the mountain so I barely even noticed them, except when I stopped twice for photos. And water. Emptied the second bottle. Around 2 liters of water consumed from the time I left the car.
Managed to get to the summit, slowly. What was wiping me out were those fierce ramps. I’d be on some section that was plenty stiff then I’d look up and see the road soaring up like a wall. Only briefly of course, 50, 75 meters, but man oh so hard. I suffered.
Plus the sky is flicking drops of rain at me with lightning flashing in the distance, telling me to hurry up. Except hurrying up disappeared from my repertoire way back in the forest in the lower part of the climb. I ignore the message, press on as best I can. The road’s so narrow up here cars have to slow way down and put the outside wheels on the edge of the road surface, and sometimes off, while I’m hugging the other side of the road and hoping like hell I don’t just fall over into the path of some car. Might have been one of the hardest finishes to any ride I’ve ever done. More me than the road to be honest but from what I’ve seen, everybody thinks the last few K are brutal.
Made it, rode past the summit restaurant, got off the bike without falling, barely, shot some pics, watched the rain coming in, didn’t even have time to eat my sandwich. Stuffed my phone and walnut in the plastic sack I carry along for such occasions and headed down, The sky opened up. A hundred meters into the descent and I was soaked. Could be an interesting descent. I was sure if I returned by the road I came up, instead of doing a loop, I’d ride out of the rain pretty quickly.
Took a little longer than I expected but by the time I was back to the high point on the forest road, no more rain. Down I went, 15 K of sustained, highly entertaining, sometimes very fast descending. My hands and arms were screaming for relief before I was even halfway down. I ignored them. The speed too much fun. I was also dry, except for my shoes; they were still soaked.
A wonderful plunge off the mountain, weaving over the surface, following the good lines, carving through the forest, the bike a scalpel slicing through the curves. On and on. 35 – 40 minutes of sustained descending, during which I crossed a grand total of 2 cars, both in the bottom half, none on the forest road. A stunningly good descent beautifully showcasing the joys of a fat-tired road bike.
Got to the car and now I knew what heat was. Must have been close to 40° (104 F). Bike in the car, clothes changed, behind the wheel ready to roll, and the deluge arrives! Talk about timing. Didn’t last long. By the time I got to Albertville the rain had stopped, the sky mostly blue. And to really make it a wrap, drove back up onto the plateau where I live and the rains splashed down again with abandon. Thankfully, we needed the rain, big time, and still need more. Like me, I needed that ride, big time, even if it did about kill me, and I need more.
Oh yea, my bike shone on that ride, especially coming down. Handled the worst conditions with aplomb, and raced down the rest with a sureness and precision that at times left me in awe, fully enjoying what the bike was doing.
There it is, Signal de Bisanne (called that because of the radio towers on the summit) by the road from Ugine, a have-to. Up and back, around 45 K with 1750 vertical (28 miles, 5740 ft), Some ride.
Some pics, and for those who ask where's the shot of my bike, that's included, including one of me with the bike