Col du Glandon
Our last day in France. So we start it the French way. Drive to the communal bins with our rubbish in the car, stop at a market to buy some fruit, and then stop at La Boulangerie for our bread for the day. But not quite French – all that before 8:00am
It’s Friday, a weekday, and we are off to work. The task today: climb the Col du Glandon. Unfortunately we have to commute to work today, a 50min drive down the col du Telegraphe and then down the tollway to La Chambre.
The weather, just perfect, again. There are no clouds and barely a whiff of breeze.
I have studied the profile for today, we both have. The ride starts as expected, gently, but by the 2nd kilometre, where the profile had said 4%-6%, I’m pedalling up 9%. I’m in for a tough day at the office.
The profile is really a bar chart of the climb, with each kilometre marked by a colour that indicates it’s steepness. A fair chunk of this climb is yellow – meaning 7%-10%, and the last 2.5km are red, indicating > 11%. The Ventoux remember, only goes above 11% for the last ONE kilometre. There was some natural bias when studying the profile: last night, after the Galibier, the legs are sore, so when I look at the profile and see yellow, I’m thinking 7%. In reality, yellow on the Glandon profile means kilometre after kilometre of 9%-10%. It is not completely sustained like Ventoux, with the occasional corner offering respite, and in the mid-section there are several kilometres of 2%-6%.
This climb starts from a lower altitude than the Galibier and there is no suggestion in town that above sits a col made famous by the Tour de France. From the start we ride for many kilometres through thick lush forest, to the extent that our objective is completely obscured. The occassional breaks in the canopy providing glimpses of incredible mountains above us. The canopy also blocks the sunlight, keeping it cool. Not that this is enough to stop the sweating, which once started runs continuously. At times I am riding with only one eye open, the other full of sweat and stinging.
Just as I break above the tree line I see three riders ahead. As usual, mixed emotions. Let’s be honest, it always feels good to pass other riders on a climb. But it is also slightly concerning, ‘have I gone too hard too early’. I pass them soon enough, and then another rider, and then Pam. Up to this point it has been harder than we envisaged and I sense some doubt from Pam.
The road is smoother than other climbs. This is worth something, as rough roads require more strength as the bouncing of the bike upsets the rhythm.
The top is now visible and the view is both breathtaking and heartbreaking. The road runs across the mountain in one long rise through the thick grass and bushes, and then turns tightly on itself and rises again before the final bend and the steep pinch to the col.
I get overtaken by one of the riders I had overtaken earlier. If this had been the start of the trip, I would have been straight onto the wheel. I would have grabbed his palm with mine, wrapped my fingers around his hand and started to push down. And had he beaten me, pushing my wrist to the table, I would have put my hand straight up again, snorting through the nostrils “best of 3”.
But not today. Today I barely notice as he rides away from me.
Where the road runs across the mountain there is a small shoulder in one place with two cars parked. As I ride past, the people from the cars walk onto the road to cheer and applaud me. I mumble “C’est horrible”: they laugh and applaud again. The French don’t just give cyclists room on the road, they truly appreciate the effort, spontaneous support such as this not uncommon. When readying the bikes in the town below, a man walking back from the shops nearby noticed the bikes, walked over and asked “Glandon”, to which I nodded: he then shook my hand and walked on. No more needed to be said. At the top of each climb we have done, people come over to congratulate you, and always offer to take a photograph of you knowing it is what we want – in a sense – by taking the photograph they are handing us a trophy.
My practise to date on these climbs has been to stand where the gradient is above 9% as I find this the easiest way, but today I am too tired for that, and remain seated for much of it. I am only certain of completion when pulling up the last 100m and I can see the road ahead flatten. This climb has been a brutal battle, far harder than imagined but the views beyond expectation with thick vegetation all the way compared to the aridness and harshness on other mountains, and impressive mountains both in front and behind.
Having made it to the col, my thoughts turn to Pam, out of sight below, still fighting.
My heart leaps as I see Pam turn a corner and come into view: “You’re incredible” – shouted into the breeze – without thought. I had feared that she may have decided to stop before the last few kilometres, and indeed she had stopped, but climbed back on and kept going.
“Cooeee” I call down. I had started this on the Tourmalet, and continued it on the other big climbs when she had come into view, not that Pam had noticed ….
Pam arrives empty, completely spent, voice hoarse, body shaking when eventually she can unclip and dismount.
The col du Glandon has none of the glamour of it’s famous neighbours, the col du Madeleine, the Galibier and just over the mountain Alp D’Huez, but it gives nothing away in difficulty or scenery to any of them.
The Numbers
Distance: 41km
Height Gained: 1,600m
