velotel
10-28-2018, 03:31 AM
Highest col in the Isère department, higher than Glandon, Croix de Fer, Alpe d’Huez, profile almost nothing but yellow and red, with lots of the latter. Another running change. As in we were on the bikes heading up the road to Col du Solude and had to turn around, road closed due to work. I kind of saw a sign at the start of the climb but paid no attention, normal for me. I mean closed to cars doesn’t mean closed to bikes. Usually I can ride around the closure and past the work zone, no problem. Not this time, no way, passage fully barred with chainlink fencing. They were working on or in a tunnel, or maybe tunnels. No problem, back to the van at the hotel, throw the bikes in the van, say goodbye to the jersey bedecked Hotel Oberland, drive to Allemond below the dam forming Lake Verney, ride Sabot. Have to drive past the reservoir anyway on our way to Arêches so do Sabot on the way, a wonderful climb, crazy fun descent.
No dirt today, blacktop then rustic blacktop, and the higher the more rustic with long sections decorated with cow pies and piss stains. Last time I did Sabot was three years ago, early September. Road was decorated then too. That was a fine day but not nearly as gorgeous as this time. Hardly a cloud in a deep blue sky, temperatures hot. Actually it was damned hot through the lower half. Southern exposure, no shade, air static.
The first 6 K of the climb was just another road up a mountain, two full lanes complete with white lines along the sides and in the middle plus guard rails plus warning signs for turns, all that sort of stuff. Good views but nothing exceptional, not for the Alps. Sustained steep to the village of la Villette, not crazy steep, working man’s steep, 8-9% range. Actually the first K and a half was a bit more serious, floating either side of 10%. After that steady working steep, with a quick easing for a short respite before la Villette. A rest zone before almost 9 K of genuine steep, as in long sections at 10 and 11%.
The road turns into my kind of terrain, a one-laner glued to the slopes, curling and twisting with humps and dips and no guard rails and no paint and lots of patched cracks and holes, asphalt generously enriched with thick gravel. Some sweet switchbacks, the round kind you can carve through coming down. And no trees, or hardly any. Avalanches sweep clean the slopes of anything presumptuous enough to try growing upright. Makes for wide open views of the road looping back and forth up this huge basin of alpine meadows.
I’d told Lee and Mike this would be one long, steep climb. Longer and steeper than the road to Alpe d’Huez. In fact one of the longest, steepest climbs in the region. The road from Bourg d’Oisans to Col du Solude, the climb we got turned back from, I think is a bit steeper, by a little, but it’s also shorter plus the last 2,5 K are cruise city, or almost; there is a final little double-digit ramp to the col otherwise a spinner. Sabot is hard from the bottom to the top with only one wee bit of a respite a little short of halfway up.
I’m pretty sure they believed me after all we’d done so far but believing something isn’t always the same as having it in your face. The climb to Solude is very definitely one those in your face climbs. And the craziest aspect of all is the damn road doesn’t go anywhere. It’s this road up through a big basin to a miniscule parking in a notch on a ridge. And nothing there. Just the end of the road and a hiking trail angling up around the ridge. But oh my what a beautiful road swooping up through the basin, paved all the way, a glorious road for anyone who loves climbing on a bike, and we had it to all to ourselves.
Or almost to ourselves. Finally saw a parked car along the road in the final traverse to the col. An odd place to leave a car. Then I spotted why it was there. An old couple were picking juniper berries on the slopes above, something they’ve probably been doing for years and years and years. Further up saw some more folks out picking. They must do something really good with those berries because getting to where they were was a long ways from the valley.
Actually there was something at the col, a sublime view of Mont Blanc proud in the distance with the Col du Glandon visible in the mid-distance. Below the road to Glandon and Croix de Fer and the upper reservoir that sends water down to the generators at the reservoir we rode past at the beginning. Mike and Lee were impressed, again. Did some serious hang time, sitting, looking, eating, drinking, soaking it all in.
The plunge, one of the best, way fast, relatively technical with the surface all wobbles and humps and swaying with the contours. Told them to watch out for the cow crap, keep the tires planted. Instant acceleration any time the brakes are released. A high-speed alpine dance, catching the rhythm, tires humming, brake pads skimming the rims, eyes lasering the line, faster and faster, darting through the curls, carving through the switchbacks, a seemingly endless, elegant descent, riding the wave, feeling the lines, letting the speed flow up from the road. A glorious run.
I finally stop way down in the basin. Wait to see how they’re doing, see if they’re loving this as much as I am. Mike comes steaming in, huge grin, eyes dancing with light. Then Lee, huge grin. Yea, they’re loving it. We’re off again. Finally hit the real road, the two-laner with paint, it’s even faster, the arcs longer, big sight lines, no traffic, the hands begging for a break, the rest of the body screaming no way, keep going, it’s not over yet. The goes win. Right down to the junction with the road to Glandon.
Out onto the highway, spinning slowly, muscles relaxing. Finally hear bikes behind me, pick up the pace, but only a little, cruise across the dam, down to the van, hell of run. Change clothes, bikes in the back, no one talking, just floating. On the road, heading to Arêches via the Col du Glandon. But first, since we’re so close, drive to the Col de la Croix de Fer. There’s a restaurant there with a deck. And big views. Beer on tap, a plate of french fries, Lee and Mike shaking their heads, is this real, a restaurant on the col, with views to forever. Yep, it’s real, pretty common actually. Welcome to the Alps.
No dirt today, blacktop then rustic blacktop, and the higher the more rustic with long sections decorated with cow pies and piss stains. Last time I did Sabot was three years ago, early September. Road was decorated then too. That was a fine day but not nearly as gorgeous as this time. Hardly a cloud in a deep blue sky, temperatures hot. Actually it was damned hot through the lower half. Southern exposure, no shade, air static.
The first 6 K of the climb was just another road up a mountain, two full lanes complete with white lines along the sides and in the middle plus guard rails plus warning signs for turns, all that sort of stuff. Good views but nothing exceptional, not for the Alps. Sustained steep to the village of la Villette, not crazy steep, working man’s steep, 8-9% range. Actually the first K and a half was a bit more serious, floating either side of 10%. After that steady working steep, with a quick easing for a short respite before la Villette. A rest zone before almost 9 K of genuine steep, as in long sections at 10 and 11%.
The road turns into my kind of terrain, a one-laner glued to the slopes, curling and twisting with humps and dips and no guard rails and no paint and lots of patched cracks and holes, asphalt generously enriched with thick gravel. Some sweet switchbacks, the round kind you can carve through coming down. And no trees, or hardly any. Avalanches sweep clean the slopes of anything presumptuous enough to try growing upright. Makes for wide open views of the road looping back and forth up this huge basin of alpine meadows.
I’d told Lee and Mike this would be one long, steep climb. Longer and steeper than the road to Alpe d’Huez. In fact one of the longest, steepest climbs in the region. The road from Bourg d’Oisans to Col du Solude, the climb we got turned back from, I think is a bit steeper, by a little, but it’s also shorter plus the last 2,5 K are cruise city, or almost; there is a final little double-digit ramp to the col otherwise a spinner. Sabot is hard from the bottom to the top with only one wee bit of a respite a little short of halfway up.
I’m pretty sure they believed me after all we’d done so far but believing something isn’t always the same as having it in your face. The climb to Solude is very definitely one those in your face climbs. And the craziest aspect of all is the damn road doesn’t go anywhere. It’s this road up through a big basin to a miniscule parking in a notch on a ridge. And nothing there. Just the end of the road and a hiking trail angling up around the ridge. But oh my what a beautiful road swooping up through the basin, paved all the way, a glorious road for anyone who loves climbing on a bike, and we had it to all to ourselves.
Or almost to ourselves. Finally saw a parked car along the road in the final traverse to the col. An odd place to leave a car. Then I spotted why it was there. An old couple were picking juniper berries on the slopes above, something they’ve probably been doing for years and years and years. Further up saw some more folks out picking. They must do something really good with those berries because getting to where they were was a long ways from the valley.
Actually there was something at the col, a sublime view of Mont Blanc proud in the distance with the Col du Glandon visible in the mid-distance. Below the road to Glandon and Croix de Fer and the upper reservoir that sends water down to the generators at the reservoir we rode past at the beginning. Mike and Lee were impressed, again. Did some serious hang time, sitting, looking, eating, drinking, soaking it all in.
The plunge, one of the best, way fast, relatively technical with the surface all wobbles and humps and swaying with the contours. Told them to watch out for the cow crap, keep the tires planted. Instant acceleration any time the brakes are released. A high-speed alpine dance, catching the rhythm, tires humming, brake pads skimming the rims, eyes lasering the line, faster and faster, darting through the curls, carving through the switchbacks, a seemingly endless, elegant descent, riding the wave, feeling the lines, letting the speed flow up from the road. A glorious run.
I finally stop way down in the basin. Wait to see how they’re doing, see if they’re loving this as much as I am. Mike comes steaming in, huge grin, eyes dancing with light. Then Lee, huge grin. Yea, they’re loving it. We’re off again. Finally hit the real road, the two-laner with paint, it’s even faster, the arcs longer, big sight lines, no traffic, the hands begging for a break, the rest of the body screaming no way, keep going, it’s not over yet. The goes win. Right down to the junction with the road to Glandon.
Out onto the highway, spinning slowly, muscles relaxing. Finally hear bikes behind me, pick up the pace, but only a little, cruise across the dam, down to the van, hell of run. Change clothes, bikes in the back, no one talking, just floating. On the road, heading to Arêches via the Col du Glandon. But first, since we’re so close, drive to the Col de la Croix de Fer. There’s a restaurant there with a deck. And big views. Beer on tap, a plate of french fries, Lee and Mike shaking their heads, is this real, a restaurant on the col, with views to forever. Yep, it’s real, pretty common actually. Welcome to the Alps.