I woke up to a beautiful blue sky…another hot one to come. The usual morning ritual – shower, pains au chocolat and coffee,
pack up and hit the road.
I follow the route along another stunning gorge as the road gently heads upwards.
I know that it’s about 30km to todays Col at an average gradient of about 4% – much less than I’ve got used to. I find it
difficult to get into a rhythm – I want to keep my speed up a bit as it should be an easier ride, but even though that should
be easy enough – just snick up a cog or two – I don’t feel comfortable. Oh well, just keep rolling on, it’ll come.
The sun’s already high in the sky and it’s getting hot – the sweat is starting to drip down my back…must keep drinking. I
get though a litre and a half of water in the first hour and stop in a tiny village to fill up. I spot what I first take to
be a roadside restaurant, but it turns out to be tables set for a family lunch. The guests have just started arriving and as
I fill my bottles from the flowing water spout I’m advised by what appears to be the grandfather “C’est mieux avec un
pastis!” and while I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about, after all he seems to be on about his third of the morning
already, I decide to forego his offer and stick with the Nuun electrolyte tablets instead.
"C'est mieux avec un pastis!"
Back on my way, things still aren’t feeling right so I grab a couple of cereal bars and hope for the best.
The scenery is looking more like the Provence I remember from childhood family holidays – dry and hot with the almost
deafening sound of crickets. Seeing the stern “No smoking, no open fires signs” I’m reminded of my grandfather. He was a
smoker – never without an Embassy No.6 on the go – and we’d stopped for lunch during the arduous trek down to the South of
France on holiday. Arduous, as it was before the excellent autoroute network had been completed and it was always a triumph
to be able to drive up some of the mountain roads without the car overheating! Anyway, Grandad had taken a stroll into the
tinder dry forest for a crafty fag and was confronted by an official looking forest ranger in full uniform. Quick thinking as
ever, Grandad put his hand with the lighted cigarette in his pocket, exchanged pleasantries with the official and went on his
way, the cigarette having burned a hole in his pocket and into his leg, creating a scar that stayed with him until the day he
died. It took more than that to stop him smoking though!
I finally come to the obvious seeming conclusion that, most unusually for me, I haven’t eaten enough! According to my techie
gadgets, I’m using up something like 4000 calories on each ride, so probably at least 5000cals a day. I don’t know much about
how the body uses fuel and fat stores, but I’m thinking I need more pasta! Over the last couple of nights I’ve tried
alternatives – couscous and rice – but I obviously haven’t been taking in enough energy.
I stop and eat everything I have with me – a loaf of bread, cheese, a tin of sardines and 2 doughnuts. That should keep me
going for a while at least!
Having let that settle, I struggle on and spot a cyclist stopping to fill up his bidons. He’s clearly been riding a bike in
the mountains for longer than I’ve been around and is wearing a tatty maillot jaune to prove it. I expect the usual “Bonjour”
or even “Bon courage!”, but as I pass he shouts “Monsieur, vous deservez le Legion d’Honneur! – a great honour indeed!
I finally reach the Col de la Cayolle, the border between the Alpes do Haute Provence and Alpes Maritime. It takes a few
minutes to catch my breath and clear my head – no triumphant sprint to the summit today – before the photo op and a chat with
a Couple of French cycle tourists who are also heading to Nice. One asks where I’ve come from and looks confused when I tell
her London. I’m sure I’ve misunderstood when she points out that there’s water in the way..huh? ”Mais La Manche??” – er, I
took a ferry? ”Ah, mais oui!” – clearly I’m not the only one that the sun’s getting to!
On the way down something feels odd at the back of the bike and I stop to find that one of the rear panniers is oly holding
on by one clip – a possible disaster if it had come off on the fast descent. A rapid repair undertaken and it’s onwards and
fortunately downwards. I’d hoped to head halfway up the next climb before stopping for the day, but the way I’m feeling as
soon as I reach the valley and a decent sized town I stop.
I’d just started to feel cramp as well in my leg – it’s not been the best of days, I’ll have to look after myself better.
I find a campsite and have a snooze in the shade even before I get the tent up. Finally, I find the energy to pitch camp,
shower and immediately cook a huge bowl of pasta. It goes down, hardly touching the sides, and my thoughts turn to the pizza
restaurant on the site.
I wait a while, but finally succumb and sit on a covered terrace with a huge pizza as a sudden thunderstorm rages outside.
Hunger eventually sated, I head back to my tent to reflect on a day of insufficent carbs!
So, the final day dawns bright and clear. I ride down into Sospel and get the stamp, just one to go!
