Galibier

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.