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#1
07-16-2018, 12:49 AM
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Getting high, staying high, Col du Véry
Found this road on a map last fall, had to ride it, the setting too spectacular. Took awhile. A wet winter with heavy snow up high followed by a long, wet spring. Then my wife had to have heart surgery for valve repair. Summer rolled in, blue skies, heat, and a driving need on my part to get high, defined as somewhere up around 2000 meters. A weekend coming in looking good for the ride, my wife at home doing well, perfect weather.
Friday afternoon, big wrench in the works, results from my wife’s blood test weren’t good. Had to take her to the hospital. Saturday morning and things are looking way better, fears unfounded. Sunday morning, gorgeous, hot in the valley, cool up high. Went to the hospital, wife doing well, she kicks me out, tells me to go ride, she was fine, lots of people planning on visiting. Cool, I’m off to Beaufort. An interesting village pretty much surviving off of one industry producing one product, the famous, or at least famous in Savoie and Haute Savoie, Beaufort cheese. A good cheese though not as celestial as they like to make out in my opinion. Then again I don’t eat all that much cheese. Nice place, I enjoy drinking a cold beer at the bar near the river in the center of the village after I’ve ridden one of the cols. Four good cols and one okay col out of town, Joly, Pré, Roselend, Arêches in the first category, Saisies in the second. Not much in the way of hotels though. The best is in the nearby village of Arêches. The TdF has blown through here quite a few times over the years and they’re doing it again this year. Incredibly they’re going over Col du Pré, one of my favorite cols despite its lack of altitude at only 1700 meters. I never thought they’d ride it. The italian influence. From the village of Arêches the road’s super tight, a twisting climb with these beautiful elongated stackbacks on a crazy steep hillside of hay. The zoo chasing the peloton is going to hate it. I drove through Beaufort, my start way too late. Save some time by driving into the upper valley, the one leading to Col du Joly. Hated driving up the road out of Beaufort because it’s a sweet ride but, as it turned out, a good call given the hour. The big question, up to Col du Joly and across or up to Hauteluce then see if this track I found on the map will take me straight up to the ridge road, bypassing Col des Saisies. Aesthetically Saisies leaves me flat. A small sprawl of a ski resort of a broad saddle on a flat ridge. Straight-up the mountain option. Turned out to not be one of my more brilliant calls in some respects but perversely I rather enjoyed myself. Hauteluce, another old mountain village modestly transformed by winter and summer tourism. A handful of small businesses, mostly food and gifts, the kind people do because they want to live there, not to get rich. Through the village and up the mountain to the junction with the normal road to Saisies. A stream of metal, which is good, forces everyone to slow down instead of driving in their usual on-holiday, in-a-hurry, dumb-ass manner. Get to my junction, a small road angling back and up the mountain. Zero traffic. A one-laner wandering across fields of hay, the view dominated by the mass of Mont Blanc rising up behind Col du Joly. A fork, check the map, right the direction. Pitch steepens, road curls around the slope, then ends at a farm with a sheep dog doing guard duties. Turn around, back to the junction, try the other. Steady climb but not really in the direction I’m thinking I want to go. Up past a couple with a camping car and a dog. Hello’s exchanged as I pass with both of them looking like what is this guy doing up here on a bike! Switchback to the right, into the direction I think I want. Pitch steepens. Switchback to the left and up to a house and a clear dead-end. Okay, turn around again, try to figure something out. The couple still there. I stop and ask if they know the area. They do. I show ‘em on my map where I want to go. Turns out the road with the guard dog is what I want. The road goes past the old farm, only it’s not a road from that point, just a rocky track. The woman tells me it’s steep while looking at my bike like I’m totally nuts. I tell her no problem, I don’t mind hiking with my bike. I’m thinking if she’d seen the bike push up Pearl Pass she’d understand this hillside is nothing. They ask if I need water, there’s a spring if I do. Definitely. The guy asks if I’m british. The french can’t tell the difference in accents between an american and a brit speaking french. When I tell him american he tells me his uncle kept an american soldier for a month or more in the cabin next to the their camper. A group of americans had parachuted in during the war and, as was apparently frequently the case, and especially in mountain country like this, were scattered all over the place so he, and lots of other french farmers with other soldiers, hid them from the germans. As I was riding away I couldn’t help but think thankfully Trump wasn’t president back then. He probably would have called the soldiers who got lost or captured losers. The woman was right, it was steep. A rocky track that turned into an even steeper, grassy trail heading pretty much straight-up the mountain. So I walked, a rather pleasant walk all in all with spectacular views back up the valley towards Mont Blanc. Lasted longer than I thought it would, maybe a K and a half of hike-a-bike in the end. A few short places I could have ridden, maybe, but it wasn’t worth it. Steep and rough enough that I doubt a dirt motorcycle could get up it. Got to an old farm with stone and wood buildings that someone had fixed up into a vacation home. I was sure that from there up would be a road and I’d be back on the bike. The road was there but still way steep and covered with loose gravel. Kept walking. Road curled left, the grade eased, back on the bike. A hundred meters further hit the junction with the road on the ridge I’d seen on the map. Turned out to be a friggin highway it was so smooth and roomy. Not paved, just packed dirt but after what I’d just done the transition was amazing. The dirt road isn’t what I imagined. First it’s smooth and wide. And instead of big views to both sides with Mont Blanc in the distance, I’m the woods looking at tree trunks and leaves. Half a K up the road and that’s it for trees. Nothing but fields of grasses and wildflowers flowing off both sides of a long, round ridge. And views, Mont Blanc dominating though steadily disappearing behind a curtain of clouds. The road’s also narrower with a surface considerably less smooth – note, less smooth, not rough – so I’m still ripping along, feeling good. The speed disappears, into climbing mode. There’s a hill between me and Col du Véry. Considerably bigger than I’d had in mind. Also seemed pretty steep at times but that was probably me. That climb up from Hauteluce did a job on my legs. Came over a hump, road flattened, then climbed again and up ahead on the horizon is what look like some sort of mechanical praying mantises left behind by aliens as a prank. Earth-moving equipment all nicely organized like a chorus line. Somebody likes to see things in order. Road slips by the construction project and into a long descent. In the distance I can see Col du Véry and the refuge where I’m hoping I can grab something to eat and drink. Still looks far away. Beyond the col is the mountain the trail to Joly traverses. Looks like it could be a gorgeous jaunt but also maybe long and hard. Definitely too late today to find out. Fast descent then a mostly easy and not too long climb to the col and the refuge. Quite a few people outside enjoying the sunshine, including a foursome of mountain bikers getting ready to leave. They ride by while I’m standing on the col. Two older couples, not one looking in good enough shape to have ridden there, plus the way they’re handling their bikes says these are not technically skilled riders. They don’t need to be; they’re riding electric, full-suspension mountain bikes rented from a shop on Col des Saisies. A persuasive argument for electric assist. Into the refuge, a small selection of berry pies on a table. Perfect. Fat slice of crumble pie and a coffee, just what I need. The girl working there asks if I’m brit. Tell her american and she asks from where. Tell her Colorado and she tells me she spent a few weeks in Steamboat Springs working on a ranch one summer. I laugh and tell her my bike leaning against the post was built in Steamboat by a good friend of mine. Always amazing how small this world is. Head back, should be fast, outside of the climb back up to the praying mantises, except for when I have to slow and dodge around and through groups of walkers, of which there are quite a few. Sunday. Hammer past the road on which I came up from Hauteluce. No way am I reversing that. The last part down to Col des Saisies is paved and I’m hauling butt. Right into a sea of people swirling across the col. Some sort of festival celebrating the cows, farmers, and cheeses of Savoie. The road so thick with people I have to walk for a bit until I abandon the road and ride across a field and down to the col. Fun descent, the road plunging nicely, lots of good curves, also lots of cars to pass, which I do. I love that. All but one of the drivers pulls aside as much as they can as soon as they see me swing out to accelerate past. The one who didn’t was driving some fat motor home. He gassed it like he was going to drop me. He didn’t, I passed him diving inside on a curve. The road from Saisies to Col du Véry is called the Route des Crêtes, route of crests or summits in english. Apply named. A good one. From Col de la Legette where I first joined the crest road to the refuge was just over 6 K with maybe 85% of the distance over 1900 meters, 6 K of magnificent views and surprisingly easy riding, quite remarkable. I need to go back and do more exploring. And make a point of getting to the refuge in time for lunch. Their food is good. 
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#3
07-16-2018, 06:25 AM
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Hank you have once again inspired me to go ride.
__________________
chasing waddy
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