Today we drove to Bardonecchia for lunch after a quick stop in Briancon.
Kenji, Zoe and I took the cool way, via La Vachette and the Col de l'Echelle, while Chloe, Zoe and my mom took the lame way via the col de Montgenevre. Laaaaame. Lunch, however was not lame. Along the way, I saw a child's car parked in a real car space
Because our route was so much more beautiful and direct (heh he) we arrived earlier than the others, and took the opportunity to go to the fantastic pastry shop across the street called "Ugetti Franco". We bought petits fours as well as enough apricot, raspberry, blueberry and strawberry tarts for the entire clan.
Shortly afterwards, we went to the restaurant(Etable). They did not have the Pesto to End all Pestos, which made us sad, but they did have plenty of other delicious and interesting things.
A lovely meal! I'm sure we will be back some time soon. On the way back, Kenji and I watched with amusement as they drove an immense timber truck through one of the tiny toens in between Nevache and Briancon. It looked like there was about two inches left on either side of it.
Today we climbed Millesime Grande Cru: a rarely climbed route on the Roche Colombe. You can see the Roche Colombe from the valley floor: it is BIG. Big and far away, I should say. The guide book and our friends said 1:30 for the approach, but it took us 1:40 to get to the base of the cliff. Most of the hike was pretty easy: take the trail up from the Pont de l'Alpe, past the huts, Roche Robert and on towards the Grande Lac. Along the way we edged past somewhat menacing looking cows
and flatulent horses, and eventually left the trail to work our way more or less directly uphill to the starting cave. The rock was fabulous over the entire route, with only a little of the usual ledge annoyingness. There was a beautiful section of slabs with runnels in the middle.
Even Chloe, who hates slabs, loved it. I was amazed to see how high the formation is. From the Alpe du Lauzet, it only looks a bit taller than the surrounding peaks because of the perspective, but as you get higher up the route and look around, you realize that you are all of a sudden towering over everything (at least everything nearby, like the Aretes de la Bruyere, and Roche Robert). At one point, I looked across at the red tower to the left and saw a chamois looking back at me inquisitively.
After five hours on the route
we finally topped out, soaked in the 2832 meter (9,200 feet) views for a few minutes,
and then start down the painful descent.
We might have been off route, but ended up in some chossy gullies, flanked by stacks of shattered rock. Later on, we did a little scree skiing,
and ended up getting a bit beaten up. Actually, both of us were in total agony because of all the time in our tight fitting climbing shoes. I could feel blisters forming on the balls of my feet, and both of us crashed and burned a few times in the scree. Chloe definteley had a worse time than I did in that respect! As we were descending, we noticed a PGHM helo circling the Aretes de la Bruyere, and we hoped that it was not for us (The route+approach+descent had taken us considerably longer than expected). By the time we got to the Aulp de Lauzet, every step felt like precise hammer blows were being delivered to each of my toes. The 100m climbing rope was digging into my shoulders, and felt more like steel cables than soft nylon. Ahh, climbing!
Later that night we had an excellent meal at the Auberge de Choucas (babysitter!), but I was barely conscious for most of it.
Today I did an abbreviated version of what I had planned to do earlier in the season (I won't describe it because it will make todays ride look pretty wimpy in comparison). The plan was to cross two cols that straddle the French-Italian border and ride a big loop through both countries. I drove to La Vachette, just north of Briancon, parked, suited up and set out down the road for Nevache. My legs were feeling pretty good, the weather was glorious, and there were throngs of people out riding. The road is flat with a little rolling terrain until you reach the relatively mild climb up to the Col de l'Echelle. I hammered this section because I was feeling good, and well… why not? Once you arrive at the top of the col, you find yourself in yet another beautiful alpine valley with beautiful praries. People were just arriving to park their cars and set off on hikes. Also, somewhat inexplicably, there were a lot of people out on sun chairs, tanning! It seemed like an unlikely place to get a tan. Anyway, on to the end of the col, where a beautiful Italian cyclist was just arriving at the summit (see video below), and whispered a slightly out of breath "Ciao" to me. From there, it was descending time, which was beautiful, if a little slow. The climb from this side looks much better than from the other side -- must do it at some point. The only issue with the descent was the depth and size of the rain gutters. They were long and ramp like, and I managed to inadvertanly catch some air off the last one. I could immediately tell that I was in Italy by the steepness of the descent and total lack of switchbacks. I continued on the road towards Oulx, which is also downhill. So much downhill in fact that I was beginning to think that I was going to have to pay for it pretty soon. And so I did, riding up the road towards Sestriere and Cesana, sucking diesel through the tunnels. I was sorely tempted to stop at a roadside pizzeria which had fired up its delicious smelling wood fired pizza oven, but wanted to get off the SS24 ASAP. In Cesara, I asked for directions to the nearest fountain, and got stuck behind a mini convoy of the Guardi di Finanza who were also lost. After filling up, I gave the col de Montgenevre all I had, which was not much at this point, ate a rice cake, and then started my descent. I got stuck behind a truck, which was pretty terrible since it was kicking up huge clouds of dust, but driving just fast enough to make it dangerous to pass.
That night we did another pizza-on-the-gro;; experiment, with Simon's help which turned out pretty well. The key is to finish them in the oven, I think, and probably let the mozzarella dry out beforehand so it does not soak the crust.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Rode to Lautaret this morning. I did my fastest time, but still felt sluggish. I should have kept on going to Galibier, but was running out of time so I turned around.
Later, I took Kenji for a walk (OK, roll) through town. The cobbles turned out to be a little problematic with the wheelchair though
We drove up to Monetier-les-bains today. I never get tired of the road, even with the holiday traffic. Once you pass Riouperoux and the other ash filled and sunlight starved towns in the Romanche valley. I always point out the climb I did on the Rocher de l'homme. Kenji was suitably impressed. After a stop for water in Bourg and to view La Meije from La Grave,
we eventually made it to Monetier, where Chloe, mom, Zoe and the Aussies were waiting for us.
Earlier, we went to the market in Place aux Herbes for provisions (wine, fruit) and to the *fabulous* new Japanese market.
Getting things ready for our one week trip to Monetier-les-bains and finishing things at work. I of course made time to bring the parents to our favorite off site lunch place. They have a customer who draws new placemats every once in a while, and I particularly likes this one.
The various animals and veggies that are regularly consumed at the restaurant are on strike! The good news is that I solved a structure, but right before we have to leave, as usual.
Zoe and I drove to the airport this afternoon to pick up the parents. We were there early, so we watched planes take off and land for a while. Zoe was mostly interested in whether each plane contained Nana and Jicha, however
Went for a ride with Darren and Martin up the Col du Sabot: excellent! The pace at the start was a bit hot, but my compatriots soon settled on a more reasonable "allure", as they say in French. The top part of this big (1300 or so vert meters) is gorgeous! IT is also supposedly the highest col in the Isere, at 2100 or so meters. There was a strong wind battering us towards the top, but the views took our minds off of it. Some escaped Donkeys sauntered over the hill while we were eating. No sign of the riders. From the top, you can see Glandon, and all the way to the Mont Blanc.
Friday, July 20, 2012
I rode up Alpe d'Huez with Akeo, then over the Sarenne, down through Mizoen, then across the dam, down to Freney and across the shelf road. I'm still "digesting" the ride, but the Sarenne descent (Eastern side) is phenomenal, just for the views. It was unfortunately being graveled, but that wasn't an issue because I was enjoying the views so much. It looks like it might be a pretty amazing climb too -- must go back and try it. The whole area has a wild feel to it which is in stark contrast to the road to Alpe d'Huez and Alpe d'Huez itself. And speaking of which, Alpe d'Huez itself went ok, but I was pretty slow. The climb out of le Freney wore me down after all the earlier climbing, but the payoff is one of the most amazing roads I have been on in France. I had actually seen it many times from the road between Bourg and Lautaret, and always wondered how you get up there. Route planning on Strava showed me how to make the connection, and I'm so glad I took the time
So I was watching TV last night: a show called "Dirty Jobs" where Mike Rowe is roped into doing horrible jobs. Tonight was blueberry harvesting. Here it is:
As I was watching it, I was thinking that the blueberry guy looked awfully familiar. I was wondering where I had seen this crazy blueberry picker before, and suddenly at the end, it clicked: College! And not only that, we had been on the cycling team together. He was (is, I'm sure, but I havent talked to him since college) a super nice guy, and even accompanied me back over Petersburg Pass after I bonked one time during a training ride. Anyway, it was really funny to see him on the show. Looks like he still cycles, too.
When I was growing up in the bay area, we would frequently travel over the Richmond San Rafael bridge: a hideous steel trestled span that links, well you know what it links. The bridge itself was not interesting, but there was a gap in between the guard rail and the tarmac through which you could see down into the water. Sometimes, at low tide you could see a shoal of rocks near the Chevron piers which would always be carpeted in harbor seals. You could also see a small red island, rising out of the water. It is tiny, with steep sides, has a few small beaches and what looks like a cave on one side. I always wondered what it would be like to go visit it. Later on, I found out that it is a private island: the only one in the SF bay. Various people have owned it in the last century, and its red soil has been used for ballast for ships. I was reminded of the island because of a news story stating that it is again for sale
Yours for only 5 million USD!
Anyway, Red Rock Island always reminds me of a dear family friend of ours: Karl Kasten. We talked about the island a few times together, and it turned out that one of his professors (Worth Ryder) had painted it from the Richmond side, as had Karl. On one occasion, we dug through his amazing study to find some photos of his paintings, which was a real treat. We miss you, Karl.
Martin and I left around 7:00 AM to beat the heat and were in the Maurienne by half past eight or so. The plan was to do Telegraphe and Galbier -- my first time on Telegraphe and first time on Galibier from this side.
The first sign of trouble was that my stomach was cramping up as soon as I got out of the car. Luckily there was a nearby bathroom, so the the crisis was averted (or postponed at least). Next problem, I get on the bike... and the legs feel like .. wood? Not a wonderful feeling at the start of a climb like this! I was still optimistic that they would loosen up and start feeling better. Little did I know that those legs would be with me for the whole ride! Telegraphe was going ok though, for a while. It was my first time on it, and it felt and looked like a lot of other climbs I've been on. Things changed when we hit the gravel; they were resurfacing the road and had left a thick layer of gravel on the road. It felt like I was treading water. Later on we ran into an unfortunate dutchman who had gotten gravel into the chain and derailleur and it had somehow sheared the entire derailleur off! I wasn't thinking about this possibility at all at the time, but was simple trying to get through it while saving some gas for the excitement ahead. Eight hundred and fifty meters of gain later, we were at the col. This would normally be a decent amount of climbing in itself. There was gravel on the short descent to Valloire, and then the big climb started. Right outside of Valloire, a busload of Belgians in red "BELGIAN POWER" jersies were unloading bikes, so it looked like we would have company. Unfortunately, there was a lot of wind blowing down the valley towards us, and I was soon climbing in the drops. I was already hurting at this point, and when we got to plan Lachat, I slipped into full survival mode: just concentrate on the part of the road I can see in front of me, don't look at the switchbacks high up the mountain. Mercifully, for the first part you can't see very far ahead of you. Once I broke out onto the plateau however, I found myself trying to remember where the col was on the ridge line, since I sure as hell couldn't see where it was. Was it to the left of the power lines? To the right? No matter, press on. Even in pain, it's a glorious climb: sweeping views into empty valleys, snowbanks going by, descending cyclists with huge grins on their faces -- magic. I rode past the tunnel turnoff and up to the infamous final ramps. It felt like I was going about half as fast as the previous time on Galibier from the other side, and I was. I remember looking down from the col a few weeks ago and seeing people walking their bikes up this section, standing on the side of the road, and sitting on rocks: a wasteland of broken cyclists. Along the penultimate sharp right hand turn, a moto caravan was coming up behind me and one of them tipped over at low speed. The front wheel came within a foot of mine. I yelled, looked back to see that they were ok, and left them to their biddies. Like I said: survival mode. Every ounce of energy was focused on the col which was almost in sight. The last section seems almost flat, but long. I'm turning the cranks, but it doesn't seem to be getting closer! Eventually, I roll into the lot, feeling worse than I can remember ever having felt on a climb. It really was a long way to have gone with bad legs, and I was happy to have the climbing behind me. From there, blissful descending, which while requiring 100% focus to not go off a cliff, did not require any more contribution from my wooden legs. A huge troupe of sheep stopped traffic for a while after Plan Lachat, and I managed to keep up with some motos for a while. After Valloire, a small climb back to Telegraphe, which was agony (and in the gravel) and then the descent to the Maurienne, which was also pretty slow in the gravel. At least the top part was clean. A tough day.
life in Grenoble, France as an expat postdoc life in Grenoble, France as an expat scientist life in San Francisco, CA as a biotech nerd
life in Grenoble, France as an expat scientist
