Alpe d'Huez
Place your hand on heart and repeat after me the critical stats;
- 13.8km
- 21 hairpins
- 8.1% average gradient
Amen!
L’Alpe d’Huez. It’s not the biggest or hardest climb in the Alps, but for some reason it has become legendary. It can be difficult to unpick the making of a legend so it is hard to explain the aura that surrounds this climb in this place, but there is no doubting the aura. It all stems from the Tour de France and the influence on the final outcome on many of the editions. When it is climbed near the end of the race, the person in yellow atop the Alpe is generally the person who wins in Paris. Beyond that, it is a grand stage for a sporting contest with the climb set amongst snow covered mountains.
We are staying in a B&B a little outside Bourg d’Oissans the town at the bottom of the hill. There were several points to attract us to this place; the price was reasonable, they do dinner and the feedback raved about the cooking, and it was still open this late in the season.
Now is not the time for an extended discussion on ‘the season’. Pam and I encountered this 20yrs ago: everything in Europe happens during the season. So if you get to a town after ‘the season’ then it will be shuttered up. In a few of the places in the last few weeks we have been the last people staying before the owners finished for ‘the season’ and went on vacation. It means, when you go looking for a bike shop in Bourg to buy an Alp D’Huez shirt, you won’t find any still open. Nor bakeries, or cafes etc etc.
Now, one of the things that you don’t consider when sitting at home thinking of riding up d’Huez, is that the preparation may not be as you would like. For example, you would never have thought that you would be sleeping in a bed that is as hard as polished marble, and that you probably won’t get to eat the food you would prefer. And you would’ve forgotten that the fixed price meal at the B&B included an apertiff, wine through dinner and a digestive ….
So, we go upstairs to the communal lounge room and dining room/kitchen at 7:30 for dinner. We are of course the only ones staying, it’s the end of ‘the season’, and we learn over dinner that we are their last guest: after us they clean the whole place ready for winter and then hop on a plane to somewhere warm. They are now just as busy in summer as winter due to cyclists from Aus, NZ, US and Canada coming here to ride the Alpe.
Anyway, in order to break the ice, I ask ‘what’s for dinner’, in French. Fish soup and then tortellini. Sounds nice, except I’m not really a soup person and I was hoping for something a bit more substantial eg steak. Eating the very fishy soup, I was reminded of the Jack Gibson line in the 12th Man directed at ET: he oughta know better than to eat that stuff before a big game.
The fish soup was good. The tortellini, prepared as an oven bake, was great. Problem was, it was an entrée size: the owner, Jean Louis, assured me it was good for cyclists. Dinner over, he brought out a Brie the size of a pizza: and told me what I already knew – that France has more than 500 different types of cheese. Yeah, and not a single decent cup of coffee – is what I would have said had I thought of it.
And with the cheese, a bottle of something. His son proudly told me it was homemade. So, here I am, the night before the ride of my dreams, and I’m knocking back moonshine. Oh well, I figure, it will only add a few minutes to my time, what does it matter. I have to say though, the moonshine was good: very flavoursome and very smooth. The bottle has a bundle of herbs in it, juniper I think he said.
Breakfast is served at 8:00. It was stated in such a way that it was obvious there was no point in asking for it to be moved earlier, like I had in Vercours. I have a few extra coffees to match the number of moonshines the night before.
And at just after 9:00 we roll out of the B&B to start the 5km ride to Bourg and thence the Alpe. Again, the warmup ride manages to completely numb my hands and feet, and by the time we hit Bourg I am completely shivering. The reason it was so cool this morning is because it is was so clear overnight. The weather is absolutely brilliant. Not a breath of wind and crystal clear cool air. You simply could not ask for better.
We roll around possibly the most famous roundabout known to cycling and head towards the start line. A few hundred metres past the roundabout a small sign marks the start of the climb. Set the timer, turn left and ohhh, it’s steep. I am reminded of what I learnt walking many years ago, passes are typically steepest at the very bottom, and/or the very top: this is no different.
How many times in the Tour do you see the riders hammering along towards the base of a climb only to see the bunch split asunder on the very first rampart of the climb. When you ride these climbs it becomes obvious why. The first kick up of the climb stops you in your tracks, and it is here that the climbers take delight in stepping up the pace. It is easy now to imagine the sprinters and their dread of these mountains.
It is steep, but manageable. And after the last few weeks of riding I have enough fitness to almost enjoy the challenge. The road is wider than what we have experienced on the other big climbs. From the start there is a retaining wall on one side about 5ft high, and on the other, a concrete wall about 1ft high on the edge of the road protecting the cars from the cliff beneath the road.
Unlike Ventoux, there were no markers signaling the gradient for the upcoming section, just the numbering on each hairpin. But you could find out what you had done by looking at the warning signs for the drivers going down hill. I discovered the first 3km were at least 10%.
After several kilometers the trees thin momentarily and you get a view down to the road you have just climbed. Wow, it literally feels like you are on the side of a mountain. And then you round a bend and see a steep vegetated hill right in front of you, and you wonder, where does the road go? And then you see the occasional ribbon of what appears to be a concrete wall and realise that the road actually goes up that hill.
About half way, I pass another cyclist, he sits on my wheel until the road steepens again and he drops off. There is no rest, no respite. The average gradient quoted, is a little deceptive, due to there being several sections up through the town of Alpe d’Huez that are relatively flat, so the gradient on most of the climb is generally greater than 8.1%.
I ride through a small village, I think this is the place they call Dutch corner. During the Tour, the road is completely blocked with people, and the crowd parts and allows each rider through. I wonder what it must be like, to be hurting up this hill and not be able to see anything of the road in front or beside you, only screaming fans.
The climb is deceptive, the start of the town of Alpe d’Huez is not the finish. When you enter the town you still have 2 kilometers to go. And I have to say, the signage leaves a little to be desired, at one point I take the wrong exit from a roundabout and need to go back around it.
Finally, I hit the last roundabout and a sign saying 300m to go. Of course, I accelerate, but everybody knows you cannot sprint for 300m ….. my time, just over 70min.
I roll back down the hill to meet Pam. She is going OK, but her left hamstring has started to hurt. Although not a good time to pick up an injury, it’s better it happened on the last ride than any other. I guide her through town to the finish to avoid my navigational error.
The plan then was to stop at a café before we descended, but the season has passed, and there is only one open and it looks rather miserable, so we stop, rug up, and then start the descent. We had both realised on the way up that this would not be an enjoyable descent, with the road being too steep, the corners too tight and there being too much traffic. So we just take it easy and stop occasionally for photos.
The ride is marred somewhat, I think, by the volume of traffic on the road and the fact that it doesn’t actually reach the top of the pass, but stops in a soulless ski town. But as we descend I am reminded of the incredible alpine views from up high and the nice forest down low. The ride also suffers from being the last event on our holiday and the inevitable sadness that comes from knowing that with this ride now done, it is all over.
Au revoir.
