velotel
06-03-2019, 04:07 PM
like the back of some huge whale long ago buried under the earth, covered by a thick forest, a thoroughly anonymous hill, no summit, no cliffs, looked at once maybe, promptly forgotten. Don’t know if it even has a name. Probably, man has a penchant for slapping names on everything. Even anonymous hills. But I haven’t seen one.
The road as anonymous as the hill it twists up, a narrow track of blacktop, a generous one-laner. Steep puppy, some 6 K at 9%. Highly deceiving that number because within those 6 K is one long flat plus a shorter bit not far off flat. There’s also a 3-K section that’s just plain brutal, grades maybe slipping into the teens complete with all the rudeness one expects from teens.
I’d ridden it twice in the past. Nothing but hard all the way up. And here I was again, ready for some extended pain. In other words one of those classic rides that can make a sane person shake his or her head wondering why in the hell anyone would voluntarily attack some climb that is so friggin hard. And then just ride back down afterwards! Borderline madness.
Seemed like a good idea to me. See what form my left leg was in. The real reason was to check out a dirt road I’d seen during my earlier rides. I’d looked at maps to see if it went anywhere. It did. Whether it was ridable or not, or at least ridable by a proper fat-tired road bike as opposed to some tractor-tired, full-suspension mountain bike, was unknown. On the map it looked like it ought to be doable but only way to know for sure is ride it.
Which meant having to do the climb to get to it. So, I did, even with some good form. And thoroughly enjoyed myself. No idea why. Wasn’t because I was flowing up the mountain on waves of power. The hardest bit wasn’t the climb; it was swinging a leg over the saddle when I finally stopped to shoot some pics and drink. Talk about feeling like an old man! Started thinking it would be rather embarrassing to have someone find me lying on the road trying to unclip from the pedals. The vicissitudes of age.
Over the top of the paved climb and on to the unknown. Turned out to be a rather well-maintained, graveled forest road. Gravel, not dirt. Not as steep as the paved road but steep enough that when I wanted to stand I couldn’t because the gravel was too loose. Didn’t want to have to ride back down it. Only around 4,5 K of climbing on mostly moderately steep grades but after awhile it started feeling like the endless climb.
Didn’t know what lay ahead other than the Col du Goulet according to small signs for hikers that I saw from time to time. I followed those hoping that was the good direction.
The col turned out to be a broad saddle surrounded by trees and a sort of drivable track to the left and another to the right with presumably the main road heading straight ahead. That’s what I followed, with the surface rapidly devolving into more broad double-track than road. But clearly a man-made road. Instead of descending like I thought it would, it went into a long traverse across the mountain. Which slightly worried me. I knew I had to descend to get where I hoped to get and the road was showing no signs of doing that. Would have checked my map if I’d had one but since I didn’t, just kept rolling on.
Half a K or so later met a young couple hiking with a daughter and son, the kids around 10 or so. Figured they must know where we were. They did. Told me to keep on following what I was on and not turning onto any side tracks. He looked at my bike and said I should be able to do it with my tires.
I was glad I ran into them because the track kept deteriorating to the point that it wasn’t far off being a single-track at times. Also quite a few trees had fallen down across the road without much sign of anyone passing by. If I hadn’t run into the couple I would have started having doubts about pushing on, except that it was definitely an old forest road built with machinery so I was sure it would go somewhere. Because it was a flat run across the slopes of the mountain there were lots of pools of water and super slick mud I had to ride around, sometimes walk around. Figured as soon as the track tilted downhill, that would be the end of standing water.
The road tilted down and the water disappeared. What was awesome was that the track was smooth, packed dirt. Major fun in the riding department. I was ripping over it, weaving from one track to the other. The further I went, the more it evolved into a real road, but always a packed, smooth dirt surface that was grippy and fast. Dropped into an area where a lot of logging was happening and after that the road became even smoother and faster. Went on and on and on, a wonderful descent, vastly better than the side I came up would have been.
Eventually I rolled into the outskirts of Le Moutaret, a small village on the road between Allevard and Pontcharra, and that was the end of the dirt. Back to the asphalt. Which was fine by me because by then I was tired and ready to call it a day so turned left for the burn down into the main valley and a series of small farm roads that would take me back to the car. Tired but super happy. A definite do-again ride. Absolutely have to show this to Max. He’d love it.
Did around 54 K with some 1200 vertical (4000 ft).
The road as anonymous as the hill it twists up, a narrow track of blacktop, a generous one-laner. Steep puppy, some 6 K at 9%. Highly deceiving that number because within those 6 K is one long flat plus a shorter bit not far off flat. There’s also a 3-K section that’s just plain brutal, grades maybe slipping into the teens complete with all the rudeness one expects from teens.
I’d ridden it twice in the past. Nothing but hard all the way up. And here I was again, ready for some extended pain. In other words one of those classic rides that can make a sane person shake his or her head wondering why in the hell anyone would voluntarily attack some climb that is so friggin hard. And then just ride back down afterwards! Borderline madness.
Seemed like a good idea to me. See what form my left leg was in. The real reason was to check out a dirt road I’d seen during my earlier rides. I’d looked at maps to see if it went anywhere. It did. Whether it was ridable or not, or at least ridable by a proper fat-tired road bike as opposed to some tractor-tired, full-suspension mountain bike, was unknown. On the map it looked like it ought to be doable but only way to know for sure is ride it.
Which meant having to do the climb to get to it. So, I did, even with some good form. And thoroughly enjoyed myself. No idea why. Wasn’t because I was flowing up the mountain on waves of power. The hardest bit wasn’t the climb; it was swinging a leg over the saddle when I finally stopped to shoot some pics and drink. Talk about feeling like an old man! Started thinking it would be rather embarrassing to have someone find me lying on the road trying to unclip from the pedals. The vicissitudes of age.
Over the top of the paved climb and on to the unknown. Turned out to be a rather well-maintained, graveled forest road. Gravel, not dirt. Not as steep as the paved road but steep enough that when I wanted to stand I couldn’t because the gravel was too loose. Didn’t want to have to ride back down it. Only around 4,5 K of climbing on mostly moderately steep grades but after awhile it started feeling like the endless climb.
Didn’t know what lay ahead other than the Col du Goulet according to small signs for hikers that I saw from time to time. I followed those hoping that was the good direction.
The col turned out to be a broad saddle surrounded by trees and a sort of drivable track to the left and another to the right with presumably the main road heading straight ahead. That’s what I followed, with the surface rapidly devolving into more broad double-track than road. But clearly a man-made road. Instead of descending like I thought it would, it went into a long traverse across the mountain. Which slightly worried me. I knew I had to descend to get where I hoped to get and the road was showing no signs of doing that. Would have checked my map if I’d had one but since I didn’t, just kept rolling on.
Half a K or so later met a young couple hiking with a daughter and son, the kids around 10 or so. Figured they must know where we were. They did. Told me to keep on following what I was on and not turning onto any side tracks. He looked at my bike and said I should be able to do it with my tires.
I was glad I ran into them because the track kept deteriorating to the point that it wasn’t far off being a single-track at times. Also quite a few trees had fallen down across the road without much sign of anyone passing by. If I hadn’t run into the couple I would have started having doubts about pushing on, except that it was definitely an old forest road built with machinery so I was sure it would go somewhere. Because it was a flat run across the slopes of the mountain there were lots of pools of water and super slick mud I had to ride around, sometimes walk around. Figured as soon as the track tilted downhill, that would be the end of standing water.
The road tilted down and the water disappeared. What was awesome was that the track was smooth, packed dirt. Major fun in the riding department. I was ripping over it, weaving from one track to the other. The further I went, the more it evolved into a real road, but always a packed, smooth dirt surface that was grippy and fast. Dropped into an area where a lot of logging was happening and after that the road became even smoother and faster. Went on and on and on, a wonderful descent, vastly better than the side I came up would have been.
Eventually I rolled into the outskirts of Le Moutaret, a small village on the road between Allevard and Pontcharra, and that was the end of the dirt. Back to the asphalt. Which was fine by me because by then I was tired and ready to call it a day so turned left for the burn down into the main valley and a series of small farm roads that would take me back to the car. Tired but super happy. A definite do-again ride. Absolutely have to show this to Max. He’d love it.
Did around 54 K with some 1200 vertical (4000 ft).