What a roller coaster of a day!!!! Having done our 1st - 5th category hills in previous days, we knew that we had to attempt a HC hill, but the difficulty I had in getting up the Col de Columbiere had made me aware that a HC was going to be serious effort. Fortunately, we decided to start our ride some 10 miles before the climb began, and to miss out a couple of smaller climbs that would have probably tortured our legs before we got to the real challenge.
Lovely countryside, forested slopes, sweet air and some rock walls that fell into the valleys greeted us as we rode, and the finding that we had turned the wrong way in a pretty stone village didn't worry us, since the turnaround simply meant a nice descent around sweeping turns. Then BANG!!! My rear tire exploded, and instantly I had no air, but I did have a nice, one-inch "aneurism". We carry extra tubes, we do not carry extra tires, so I was as deflated at that point as the back wheel, since I figured my ride for the day was gone - the SAG wagon was going to claim me. But Dale worked wonders with some tape that at least protected the tube somewhat, and we were able to start our ride again, after, of course, the obligatory infusion of liquids and some excellent bread and local pate de campagne.
The climb upwards was an experience. Gradually I began to relax about the probability of the tire bursting again, and paid attention to the sounds of birds, the gushing of a stream that ran down beside the narrow road. We climbed and climbed, a steady 8% grade, with very occasional increases and decreases, but nothing to worry us. At about 12 kms from the top, it started getting tougher, since the grade steepened, and we got some encouragement (??) from the appearance of signs every km telling us how much altitude we had to achieve, the average grade from that point, and, as Dale's photo shows, the fairly redundant picture of a cyclist going up a 45% angle. The things got slightly spooky, since announcements that we were facing an average grade of 5% would result in the next km actually (by our eyes) generating a 10% grade. I started imagining that some high school students had driven by and switched the signs as a joke. A couple of times, we simply had to get off and walk, since we ran out of gears on the steeper slopes, which the tourist maps told us later reach 11.5%. By the time we got to 4 kms off the summit, we knew we could get up, and we surged up the last stretch, until Dale had a "Andy Schleck moment" and slipped his chain. (I dread to think what stress we are putting on our running gear.) Dale suggests that I surged up the hill at that point, but I simply kept riding to avoid falling off, and so I got to the top a few seconds before he did.
What a view! Like being on top of the world. And then I looked down the road we were going to descend, and several things occurred to me. I was soaked through in sweat, and there was a chilly wind, and descent wasn't going to make me warmer; my left cleat no longer clipped into the pedal, since I had eroded the plastic to nothing (these LOOK cleats are nice when they are new, but they get worn out so quickly), and I needed two functioning cleats for a safe descent, not to mention a good tire, which by now was beginning to shred at the point of "aneurism"; and the descent side of the hill looked a lot steeper than the side I had climbed - in fact a bit like a ski jump (and there was a remarkable lack of safety rails on the road, just sweeping and very tight corners, one after another.
We began the descent trying to keep the bikes' speed to less than 20 mph, which required constant front and rear braking; after five minutes, my fingers were beginning to cramp and lose strength, but I managed to keep the weakness away by alternating brakes. Soon, as I realized that the bike was behaving very well in the turns, I stopped worrying about all the issues, and started regretting that my tire problems were preventing Dale from doing what he really wanted to do - which was, of course, go like a bat out of hell, rather than stay behind me to make sure I didn't get into trouble.
Suddenly, as we swept into a tight S bend, I heard a familiar bang, and the rear tire instantly deflated. Having seen no signs of habitation since the top of the col, I realized that fortune was smiling, and in front of us, not a 100 yards away, was a hotel, where we could stop, check the bikes and call Gwen and Fran, who were stationed close to the bottom of the decent.
Well, I guess that we had been favored by too much good fortune for the day, since, as Dale's blog indicates, somehow in all the confusion and attempts to get our bikes and selves into the van, the Garmin and sunglasses disappeared, an occurrence that we did not notice until later. I don't think that either of us was worried because we were pretty certain where they had been left in the hotel, and all of our dealings with bars, hotels, restaurants so far have been so friendly and touched with smiles and generosity that we didn't expect to be met with a distinctly unfriendly attitude when we contacted the hotel to ask if the items had been found. Such unfriendliness encourages all sorts of conspiracy theories.
But the day ended on an upbeat, as they always seem to do. We arrived at Les Terraces de Saubisson, a chalet run by Vincent, who runs a really nice B and B with his wife, mother and mother-in-law. And he directed us to a small restaurant in this small village of Guchan for our much-needed dinner - we all had lamb - dishes to die for.
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