The inspiration for this ride was threefold;
1. Paul my clubmate had ridder the BRA many years ago and wanted to go
for the Full Monty
2. Arthur's report a couple of years ago
3. Having ridden up AdH the day after l'Ardechoise convinced me to try
for the Alps.
The usual packhorse impression to Stansted last Wed was followed by an
often very wet ride into Grenoble (note to self, French trees don't
have enough leaves to keep one dry in a cloudburst; second note to
self, use the 4 euro shuttle bus for the very uphill return) and the
evening was spent watching a certain game of Foopball. The night was
spent trying to get to sleep amidst the noise of car horns.
Fortunately Paul was en route from Nice with a hire car on Thur which
saved a drenching; we drove the 3km up the AdH road to the campsite;
highly recommended, small tents get pride of place in their front
gardern overlooking the valley, and only 7 eu each a night ;-)
www.lapreoula.com
A quick fettle of the gears (notably the recently borrowed compact
chainset) and we decided to try a few hairpins. Well you know how it is
with hairpins, and before long we were up the top; no money, no water,
no thermal gear, brrrrr! all the way down.
Friday was spent registering and trying to avoid BEER. A couple from
Toronto arrived in the campsite to do L'Etape, having never heard of La
Marmotte.
Saturday morning (race day) was a hive of activity in the bottom of the
valley as we joined the throng at 0645. Felt totally inadequate as
usual with my alloy bike without a Dura Ace groupset. Finally moved off
at 0745 ish. Paul was nowhere to be seen having been put in a different
numbered queue. I spent the whole day looking for him, only to find
several hundred identically coloured riders.
A benign flat 8km to the reservoir was followed by a brutal start to
the climb of the Glandon; in my case 3rd sufficed as a granny ring. The
road (by now) high above the valley floor has collapsed at some time in
the past and someone with a sick sense of humour decided to drop it
back down to river level and back up the other side. Use of the Real
granny got me back to where the road rejoined the original route and
after a lot of Up we came to the Glandon. It was shut.
Someone had gone AOT over a hairpin and they were waiting for a meat
wagon. An hour later I finally got going again after the gendarmes were
filtering about 20 through at a time. That was the silver gone,
although I did use the opportunity to fill my face with the usual
superb catering. A tremendous and very long descent reminiscent of the
Dales Grimpeur and the Northern bit of the LEL routes. After that it
got a bit boring as it went along the main road under the Croix de Fer;
but not for long as we soon hit the climb of La Telegraphe. This was
nice; bendy, shaded and not too steep. I felt slightly better at the
top by comparison to the poor sod chucking up in a very loud fashion
before finally lying down.
A short drop down to Valloire and we started on the day's Big Fun, the
Galibier. A quck stop for more food and then it started to climb in a
fashion simlar to the Glandon; although I knew I had 14km and 1000m to
go. Suddenly the road stopped at a hairpin. Then it struck me, in a
moment of horror similar to Sigourney Weaver seeing the Mother Alien
for the first time. Some clown (taking lessons from the one who did the
Glandon road) had tacked a road to the side of the mountain. Like a
huge anthill with its 2 wheeled worker ants pedalling inexhorably up in
an endless trail. Well if you can't beat 'em...
At the top another rider was bubble wrapped and carted off in a
helicopter. (I say the top, there was a crater about the size of the
Grand Canyon with an ant trail all the way up). I decided to think of
other things as I cranked away for the next 1 1/2 hrs in 34x26; and
mostly just one thing. 1815.1815.1815. That was when I had to arrive
back at the bottom of AdH to avoid the shame of a Marmotton (the ride
which finishes at the bottom). And then about 300m from the top I came
upon a British bike; it was a chap from Brighton. Suddenly someone to
talk to took away the tedium and sheer effort, and we even got cheered
by a van load of supporters from East Sussex who saw my club top; they
had prepared a special King of the Mountains banner for their rider
(who presumably hadn't appeared yet). And one last oomph and pretend
smile for one of the many professional photographers and we were there
at 1615. Bloody freezing! I grabbed a drink and dried prunes at the top
then it was on with the Gamex top for the fantastic descent of both
Galibier and Lautaret (although the surface on the latter and the lack
of closed roads for the whole ride made it less than the 100km/h I have
read reports of). An absolutely mad passage through all the tunnels and
soon we were heading back to Bourg d' Oisans and elimination time. I
got there with 30 min to spare so piled into as much sugar as I could
find from the refreshment stand (even Coke as well!) and grannied the
Alpe. Stopping at the campsite to lose all my spare weight and stick my
helmeted head under the cold shower I continued up. I was past caring
by now as were most others but all I had to do was plug away. Finally I
hit Lacet no 1 at about 1940, but in a cruel twist of fate they decided
to add another 1km beyond the normal stop to where the Tour finishes. I
CNBA to queue for a Bronze certificate and still don't know where I
came, but was apprently one of only about 2000 of the 7000 starters to
finish. I met Paul who had been there about an hour (with no training
either!) for the usual free but uninspiring pasta and salad, before one
last plummet back down where we met the last of the finishers and a few
who had had their chips confiscated after the cut off time but still
decided to continue just for the hell of it; chapeau to them all.
We of course didn't ride Sunday other then some contrived photo posing
in the dark tunnels on the other side of the valley, but took advantage
of the 1/2 price voucher to go up on the cable car to 3300m. And on the
way down, near Huez, having seen a few furry flashes and a tail
earlier, were rewarded with the site of a real actual Marmotte (or was
it a Marmotton?). The evening was spent in the Foyer Municipal with the
rest of B d'O for another less joyeous game of foopball.
And as Monday dawned and the Circus that is L'Etape rolled into town we
beat a hasty retreat before they shut all the roads, and went back to
Grenoble where we followed a very nice 70km route through the Vercours
that was in the free magazine that came in the entry pack.
A great ride; well worth doing before it gets Etappified, but very very
hard. The jury is still out on whether it was harder than the Dales.
And no I didn't buy a jersey before the ride and yes they had sold out
afterwards!