5am…”Oh my god, I’ve left the washing out and forgotten to put my shower cap on!!”…no, not the remnants of some late night Camenbert inspred dream, but my first thoughts on waking up to the sound of rain on the tent. Stark naked, I’m out like a shot to bring in what was nearly dry shorts and t-shirt and to put the shower cap onto my saddle. It’s a Brooks old school leather saddle that really doesn’t like getting soaked. I’m sure Brooks would sell me a beautifully crafted waterproof cover, but I’ve actually found a use for those shower caps you get in hotel rooms – they fit Brooks B17′s perfectly!
All sorted, it’s back to sleep – hoping it’s only a brief shower.
7.30am – nope, it’s hammering down. What to do? I don’t really want to take another reading day as time is getting on and that would mean no time in hand. On the other hand, I really don’t fancy tackling Col de Vars in the rain – especially having been warned that it’s a tough one.
Breakfast is the only answer! Coffe and pains au chocolat downed and I check the weather forecast – it’s supposed to clear a bit in the afternoon. I pore over the map – if I don’t leave till later, can I still make it to my planned night’s stop at Barcelonnette? Is there anywhere else that looks like a likely place between the top of the col and there? What if I can’t even make the col?
There’s nothing else for it….wait a while and see what the weather does! Back into the dry warmth of my sleeping bag and lie listening to the rhythm of the pouring rain.
11am – it seems to have eased, ok – I’m going to go for it. Now the logistical nightmare of packing up in the rain while trying to keep as much dry as possible.
12-ish – finally on the road.
The rain has turned into a fine drizzle which is actually quite nice to ride in as it’s still quite warm.
Straight out onto the climb and once I’ve warmed up I get into the familiar rhythm – subconsciously counting pedal rotations…I seem to catch myself counting from 70 upwards for some reason. Watching the white lines on the road creep by oh
so slowly. Watch the altimeter on the gps edge up metre by metre. I’ve forgotten how long the climb is, but I know that it tops out at 2106m….that’s 1106m to go then. Mental calculations – how many metres of elevation am I gaining per kilometer marker….how far does that make the summit? These are all the things that keep my mind occupied as I slog on and up – along
with finding appropriate songs to sing – Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head? Why Does It Always Rain On Me? Misty Morning Hop?
The clouds are hanging onto the sides of the mountains, hiding the ascent to come, but I know it’s there – my mental
calculations won’t let me forget it.
An hour in and I’m feeling good – no faster, but I do think I’m beginning to get the legs for this.
Another half hour and I’m hungry! That breakfast seems a long time ago. I don’t want to stop for any length of time so I just
grab a couple of energy bars from my bar bag, take a good slug of water and carry on.
They start to take effect and soon I’m approaching Vars, another ski resort. As I see the first car parks, I’m at 1800m and I can see the town rising in front of me. It’s amazing the effect of a town full of people watching you puff up a hill has - suddenly I’m Andy Schleck – confidently spinning up through the streets greeting every bemused glance with a cheery ”Bonjour!”.
As I leave the town behind, I’m at over 1900m and it was pretty steep. No-one’s watching now, so I can go back to my normal puffing and grimacing!
Only a few km to the Col and I’m going well.
As the summit looms, I find the energy to click up a couple of gears (not quite
big ring attitude, but close!) and soar over the top with what feels like aplomb – expecting to be greeting like the King of the Mountains I undoubtedly am. There’s a dog and the man running the sweet stall – both of whom have seen enough jubilant cyclists to last a lifetime.
Slightly crestfallen I persuade the sweet seller to take my picture, put my jacket on and down I go….looking forward to getting down a few hundred metres and the air temperature risin a degree or so.
It’s “Into The Valley” now for every descent – I can’t remember the words, but it really doesn’t seem to matter if I sing the
lalalalala – la – lalalala loud enough.
Downhill now all the way to Barcelonnette, the sun even starts shining and I begin to warm up.
A brief trip through the picturesque town to find the tourist office, then to the campsite.
I get into a conversation with a French cycle tourist called Romain who has far grander plans than me involving Russia and China – he admires my bike stand as we swap details and promise to keep in touch via each other’s blogs (www.a2pourmoinsdeco2.fr).
Meteo looks good for tommorow…here’s hoping!
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Brilliant blogs – getting into your stride both on and off the bike!
James is worried about you skipping lunch and says are you sure you’re eating enough?! I think he’s going to send you a food parcel. x
You’ve inspired me Steve. I’ve gone out and bought myself a Trek FX7100 road bike. It’s a beauty compared to the pile of junk I’ve been using (occasionally) for the last 16 years. It’s a joy to ride; I hadn’t realised a decent bike could make so much difference!