Day Two - NICE2TRI.COM Tour de Chamonix
Sleep (funny enough) was not an issue after yesterday’s initial adventures in the high Alps. Insomniac O’Connor did the “waaaakey waaaakey!” again having had all of 3 hours sleep because the metal plate in his noggin was interacting with the sky dish. Allegedly he spent the whole night thinking of work and cycling.
Due to the delay in certain members of the team being able to get out of their dog basket we decided to head out the door and snatch a croissant or two on the edge of town. Needless to say the Sneddon took a shine to the Mademoiselle behind the counter……”it’s 10 o’clock, my legs hurt and we’ve got a long ride ahead…..leave the woman alone and can we go now please”. Croissants consumed and we’re off at circa 10.30am.
The climb from St Gervais to Megeve is a gentle one and we wisely choose to put the egos on hold and settle in to the 40 minute climb with heart rates under 140bpm for most of the group. The Brownedog tends to enjoy going straight to 190bpm and staying there for 5 hours………each to his own. A familiar old shout from a previous trip springs up “I can see the next corner………still up hill”
Through Megeve and onto the medium paced descent into Flumet on a wide sweeping road. From Flumet we hang a right turn and start to climb a beautiful ravine with short tunnels carved through the sides of the mountain. Up and over with an exhilarating descent that sweeps left and right on a road that gives good visibility ahead and allows a rider to take a good racing line. Speed in the mid 40’s mph and 1.5 hours of ride time on the clock.
Along a semi flat (must be an optical illusion because the heart rate monitor is showing 160bpm and I’m moving at all of 11mph!) and we are delivered to the base of the Col de Aravis. Lostboy O’Connor decides to get a refill of his bottles and tells us to go ahead. Helmets off (approx 28 degrees C and riding at only 6 mph uphill) and we hit the climb. The group is starting to splinter when Lostboy comes past like a scolded cat. I think his ear is playing him up because he doesn’t say a word as he goes past! The Sneddon starts to pull away and the Browndog and the Lord start to slip back (Brownedog punctures) which leaves me in no-mans-land. After 10 mins or so of riding alone I hear a rider behind, which turns out to be a young French dude whom I name Jean Christophe…..not sure why other than he looks like that should be his name. J.C. is the friendly type and as he rides through he makes sure I’ve picked up his wheel to take advantage of the draft to help me up the climb. The draft is not the only thing I pick up because J.C. doesn’t seem to enjoy bathing and smells like a dead dog. For the rest of the climb I do more than my fair share of pulling on the front more to avoid the scent of J.C. than anything else. A touch of the knuckles “a la” Jay Z at the top and J.C. goes his own way while we pull over to regroup. The Brownedog now comes into his own as the demon descender that he is. Agreed he has more substance for gravity to pull on but there is also a large serving of “kahunas” required to come down alpine roads at high speed. I have to pedal like a lunatic out of the hairpins just to keep him in sight.
We regroup in La Clusaz with one first category climb already under our belts. A Coca Cola stop ensues (I went on to drink approx 6 cans on the ride) and after a few mouthfuls of energy bar we set off for the second big climb of the day, the first category Col de la Colombiere. Up through Le Grand Bornand and the Brownedog punctures again. Lostboy O’connor has heard the voices in his head and taken off again so the remainder of the group pull over to help the dog (who looks like he might take a bite out of a passing car at any minute). A scene from scrapheap challenge would be the best way to describe the next 15mins as we discover the rim tape on the dog’s rear wheel has decayed and we make a repair from strips of tyre patch cut up with Lord Gordon’s scary looking tool. We ascend the Colombiere in our own ways, all of us suffer and it starts to rain a little. Lostboy is waiting at the top with a p****d off look on his face. He claims I told him the climb was 6km long……..”stick a ‘1’ on the front of that and you’re close” I reply. He also goes on to say that some dude he was just chatting to advised us not to descend the other side of the Colombiere as it’s “extremely dangereuse”. In true Brit fashion we crack on and descend the other side of the Colombiere. A road about as wide as Vanessa Feltz with a vertical mountain wall to the left and a 500m drop to the right did indeed deliver the shot of adrenalin we were seeking. Light rain was falling and the road surface was loose so speeds were kept in check until we descended to bone dry and much wider roads. At this point the descending dog with the big Kahunas barrels to the front and speeds approach 50mph. We regroup at the bottom and when we realise it’s too late for a “spag bol” in Cluses we decide to crack on along the valley back to Le Fayet and the base of the last climb up to St Gervais. With almost 5 hours on the ride time and 2 first category climbs (amongst many others) in the bag we are truly shattered. Tired and hungry and with judgement a little impaired I then discover that a Shimano carbon laminate front wheel fits exactly into the rut created by a Tram track. Off the bike and flat on my back I have a very sore derriere and am suitably embarrassed. The shot of adrenalin from the crash gives me enough pure anger to get up the climb to St Gervais and home. The Sneddon and O’Connor have once again attacked each other and are sitting on the steps awaiting our arrival. 5 hours on the dot, a sore butt and an empty belly. All soon to be cured by a Filet de boeuf in the Galeta. Bootiful !!!!
