An Epic Alps Adventure

This year has been full of change. I left permanent employment (aka retired) in May of this year. They say you need to think about 4 things when you retire. What is your purpose? Are you financially ok? What about socialisation? Finally, what about self actualisation? I sort of thought I would be ok but struggled far more than I anticipated. I found the loss of structure and interactions with people really impactful. I tried to get a couple of non-exec jobs and failed. One thing that was an anchor was cycling.

I did really enjoy doing the Solstice Sprint (1000km loop starting in Warwick and heading through Wales) even though I had to scratch around 700km in because of broken spokes and a buckled wheel. In fact I enjoyed it so much I went back and finished it in one go from where I stopped in Llandudno (320km in one day).

Not long after that I was entered into the Great British Divide but scratched after just two days mainly because of my mood. I felt low and lost. A simple puncture overwhelmed me. I returned home disconsolate and down. It prompted me to withdraw from the Alps Divide as I felt if I couldn’t do the GBD what hope did I have.

Linda asked, “So what will you do instead?”. I shrugged and replied I would do something next year. She said, “But you love doing these events and it does you so much good”. Not what I was expecting! I then spoke to Niel Copeland, my coach, and he did a brilliant analysis of my fears, expectations and options with me. I realised I was allowing my mental mood to stop me from doing what I loved. I emailed the organisers and rescued my place on the event.

Niel also lent me his Evoc bike bag; a serious bit of kit. It made packing the Scott Spark pretty easy (especially with some help from Jim). So on the 4th of September I started the transfer to Menton, on the Côte d’Azur. Trains to Gatwick, a stay in the Premier Inn and then an Easy Jet flight to Nice, a train to Menton and then a short, steep walk up the hill to the La Vallaya Apartment.

Others began to arrive, Martin, Haico, Paul and Niel by car with Darren arriving later. Jo and JoJo, and Stuart. Only Stuart was staying elsewhere in the old town so it was a very sociable location.

Niel proposed a warm up ride on the Friday. I had managed to put my bike together (with a bit of help) and was keen to find out what lay ahead.

(The Evoc bag came with a bike stand that could be taken out as shown!)

Five of us were prepped and ready by the Friday so rode through Menton, past the start of the race and up the first climb. It was a lovely day and I was soon steaming on the climb. It was sustained, steep and, although I didn’t know it at the time, we only did half of the climb. We stopped at St Agnes for lunch and had platters of meat and cheese and bread and salad – delicious!

The descent back to Menton was a whizzy delight and that evening Niel cooked dinner for us all and we drank alcohol free beer as the sun started to set over the Med.

Day 1

The start had been delayed until 4pm which meant quite a bit of hanging around. Registration had been done and bags were dropped off by 11am to be transported to the finish. At least we could have a good lunch.

There was a strong wind coming in off the sea as the riders gathered. We had been well briefed by email and become members of the WhatsApp group that would alert us to issues during the race. Something which was going to be of vital importance.

We gathered just off the main road through Menton and then the police escorted us out of town and onto the first climb. I was quite quickly the lanterne rouge but it didn’t seem to bother the policeman on his scooter. I was also not bothered. I have learnt that too many people surge at the beginning of a race and pay for it later. I knew I would gradually haul others in. I am the tortoise.

We passed St Agnes the scene of our lunch the day before and still the climb went on. You can see from the map and data above that there was a hefty chunk of ascent before the climb eased off.

It was warm and the views were wonderful until the sun set and I started riding into the night.

The only time I knew I had crossed the French Italian border was on day 1. I am not sure if or how many times I subsequently crossed it again.

I did come across a restaurant and stepped inside to get a coke and water. A woman came over to me and after ascertaining I spoke English said she was American and wanted to know what I was doing. I told her. She insisted on paying for the coke and they gave me the bottle of water for free. People can be quite lovely.

I hit the bottom of the next climb. It was going to last at least another 20km or so. It was getting late so I started searching for a bivvy spot. I had discussed what to do on the first night with Niel and he recommended not trying to cycle through the night. I always take his advice 😉

I saw a space with three cars parked in it, each covered in a drape, adjacent to an olive grove and made out that there was a place, behind some trees, flat enough to pitch my new tent. Across the road was a house with spotlights around it so I was a bit worried I might be spotted and clandestinely set up the tent, blew up my sleeping mat, unfurled my sleeping bag and crawled inside. It was so hot I decided to lie on top of the sleeping bag. I couldn’t open the doorway for extra ventilation as I already had one mosquito buzzing around inside.

People came back to the house and there were barks and noises. Somehow I managed to fall asleep and get some rest. The adventure had begun.

Day 2 There is something quite magical about cycling into the dawn. Slowly the edge of the world lights up, the stars begin to fade and the lights of the towns in the valleys diminish.

I was climbing quite a lot off road and glad I had a full suspension bike. I met and knew other riders who had brought ‘gravel bikes’ and were complaining vociferously about the discomfort and difficulties they were experiencing. I made it over the climb and down into Pigna.

A message had come through on the WhatsApp alert that someone had their bike stolen in Pigna during the night! It made me wary as I went into the patisserie and ordered a coffee. I tried to order a croissant, a pain aux chocolat, but they were clean out of them. A horde of cycling locusts had descended before me and swiped the lot! I settled for a slice of blueberry pie 🙂

Leaving Pigna I wan’t sure what happened but thought it best to restart the route on my Garmin which is why there are two records for the day. the beginning of ultra brain? That fogginess and muddled decision making?

I was back onto a climb up to the Salt Road.

We had warnings of heavy rain coming our way from about noon. I expected rain but did not expect the torrent of water the sky unleashed! There had been lightning and thunder preceding its arrival. I don’t know if it is valid but I was told, when young, that the gap between the lightning and thunder gave an estimate of how far away it was. If that is true then the closest it got was 3 miles (a 3 second gap). It still felt threatening.

The rain started. I donned my wet weather gear which turned out to be excellent. A 7 Mesh Skypilot Jacket and Thunderpants. The rain was torrential and heavy and unrelenting.

I made slow but steady progress but began to wonder if it would be advisable to cycle on as the refuge I was aiming for was some 4-5hours away. Then I came round corner and saw a refuge with a number of bike stacked around the walls. I pulled over and walked in to find Jo, Haico, and Martin grinning and welcoming me as they had been following my dot up the mountain. The decision was made. I was going stay there for the rest of the afternoon and night and set off early the next morning.

The main room was crowded and full of clothes drying and devices being charged. After a hot shower I ate some potatoes and later a dinner of terrine and lasagne. In retrospect maybe that was why I had such a good day the next day. It was hugely sociable. We were all in a dorm full of bunk beds (and snoring).

The rain was incessant and suddenly Stuart appeared in the Refuge. He had lost his wallet and passport on the track. Apparently he met some Italians in 4x4s going down the track and asked them to look out for it. They found it and handed it into the Refuge before driving back up and letting him know. So he came all the way back from the top of the climb, in the rain, then turned round and set off up the track again! I found out later he bivvied in one of the deserted buildings beside the track. I couldn’t have done that! Oh, and he was on a gravel bike!! His adventures on this race became legendary.

I climbed into my sleeping bag and drifted off.

Day 3 The rustling started early and I could see Jo was packing so I hauled myself out of my sleeping bag around 4am. Previous experience of alpine huts had taught me to ask if they would leave breakfast out if we planned an early start. Sure enough there was hot water, coffee, milk, cereal bread, butter and jam to feast on. It was still dark outside when we set of just before 5am, necessitating lights to see the path but above us the stars in the sky were magnificent. I rarely get to capture them with a phone camera but this was an exception.

I started the traverse of the salt road and, as the dawn smashed the sky blue, a beautiful day enveloped me surrounded by staggering views..

I was playing tag with Haico, Jo and Martin. Jo had been bitten by an Alsatian somewhere on the trail and when we met up at the refuge Barbera we were able to have a good look at the wound. Phone calls home elicited that there was no real risk of rabies (confirmed by Niel who is well versed in getting rabies shots having been bitten on another event in Europe). I should have insisted she source some antibiotics as dog bites quickly get infected due to the bacteria inhabiting their mouths. She cleaned and dressed it and was soon ready to carry on.

The off road finally came to an end and there was a wonderfully sinuous tarmac descent to Tende (I think) where we all stopped at a Carrefour for resupplies. There were other cyclists there, including Stuart. I bought the best food I had sourced at a supermarket since starting – a glass jar of cold rice pudding. My spork was put into action! Then there was another beast of a climb – 26km. Mostly paved but petering out towards the end. Gradually the light faded as we climbed. Tail lights blinked high above me. Gabbi Winck set up camp not far below the col.

I kept moving; slowly. Jo had said she had booked a cabin 80km further on which she and Martin were aiming for. I didn’t feel I could make it that far so, as I descended I started looking for places to pitch the tent.

Unbeknownst to me Martin had accidentally left his rear bag undone and was in the process of losing his tent and cold weather gear which was an utter disaster for his race!

I came across an area with the top of a ski lift and some cabins. One of them was lit up so I descended a short way off route to see if I could source some water.

Inside were half a dozen French people eating their dinner. After the initial shock of seeing this apparition appear out of the dark they made me come in, gave me water, cheese sandwiches, tomatoes and a peach! I found it hard to pack it all into my camelback but felt it would be rude to refuse.

Back on the route I shortly afterwards found a picnic area which, despite the barking dog in the nearby house, looked perfect. I put up the tent, ate and then squirrelled my way into the sleeping bag. It was nearly midnight but I was pretty pleased with my riding and looking forward to finding a town to have breakfast in tomorrow.

Day 4 I found it hard to get out of the sleeping bag and had a later start than previous days. I think I didn’t get going till nearly 6.30pm. I had heard other riders passing by in the night. Not sure if they saw my tent but I heard the crunch of tyre on gravel and lights sweeping the length of the tent as they descended.

If I remember correctly, and to be honest there is so much that is a blur of time and place now, the track down was quite rough, technical in places and with frequent switchbacks.

I got to village and saw two men sitting outside a door drinking coffee. I stopped. Inside was a small store and I was able to order a croissant and a pain au chocolat. In the past I would probably have just ordered a croissant or a pain aux chocolat. Experience and coaching has drilled in to me to double my orders! In fact I went in again but they had run out of both (a common theme!!).

James and Kate arrived. There is an easy camaraderie amongst participants of these events which even transcends national borders. They were riding as a pair. Later the same day I would see James outside a Carrefour changing his brake pads. I learned later they had then failed and he was wondering if he could follow Kate downhill with just one brake working (I reserve judgement on that idea!). Then mysteriously they came across a sign in the middle of nowhere to a bike shop for e-bike rental. Inside James asked the custodian if he might be able to fix his brake. “Mais oui” was the simple reply. He did. I have a theory that if they go back there now that shop will not exist. It was ‘The Miracle of The Alps Divide’.…

The WhatsApp was filling with messages about the inclement weather ahead. The temperature was forecast to drop to -6c on the tops. I was beginning to wonder about my options. At the pace I was going I couldn’t see myself finishing by the Sunday evening, let alone Saturday. The cut off times for the Control Points had been put back by 12 hours because of the rainstorm that hit us on day two. I was hearing from those in front of of me that some of the climbs ahead were really brutal, including one long hike a bike.

I have learned that these events are 50% physical and 50% psychological. When I spoke to Niel before the event he had gone through my options. Mainly these focussed on enjoying myself. I was enjoying myself despite the long climbs but I was calculating in my own head how much risk I was prepared to take. All of this influenced my decision making as I continued to ride up and down towards CP1.

I was coming past Isola which I knew of as a ski resort. There was a cycle path which was fun to ride on although the traffic in France had not been problematic.

As I started to climb I knew I had the Col del la Bonette ahead of me and then a descent to the refuge at Bayasse which was the first Checkpoint. if I rode through the night I could probably beat the 7am cut off.

I mulled it over and decided I did not want to ride over the col in the dark. I got the phone out and started searching Booking.com There was a hotel in Auron. A bit off route but I fancied a night of comfort. I had recently also learnt how to drop a pin on Apple Maps and then send it directly to my Garmin which would then route me to that destination. So I did that. Or at least I thought I did. I ended up in St Etienne de Tinee which was still on route. So I cancelled the hotel and stopped at a bar and ordered a hot chocolate. I asked if there was hotel. The woman, who I think ran the bar, gesticulated up the road and a droit. Then she asked me if I wanted an AirBnb for 60 euros. After a call by her to confirm it was available and a search on the app I booked the accommodation which was up the end of the road. I was able to push my bike into a little studio straight off the pavement. There were no towels or soap but I had a dry flannel and there was some washing up liquid and hot water in the shower. There was a ‘kit explosion’ as I dried out my sleeping bag, tent, clothes, charged my devices and changed into some casual attire (I carried one pair of light trousers, pants and a t-shirt for such occasions).

Then I walked a 100m up the road and ordered a burger and fries before returning to the cosy studio and sleeping on the sofa which may or may not have been a sofa bed…

I had no regrets about stopping early. I was a bit embarrassed I missed a message from Darren, who was hot on my heels. He camped out a little further back but I would have been happy to share the room with him given the falling temperatures.

Tomorrow I would make my mind up in Barcelonette what to do about the rest of the route.

Day 5 Someone once said to me ‘there is no such thing as a bad decision, just a decision made in the context at that moment’. As I reflect on my experience I find it difficult to recollect exactly how I felt and why I decided that when I got to Barcelonette I was going to scratch. There were probably multiple factors. There were people behind me who had already scratched. Martin having lost all his kit, Haico because he was injured, Benjamin because he was on a gravel bike and had fallen hit his head and been vomiting!

There was the nature of the terrain ahead of me. The weather. The time pressure. I remember, as I set off from the little studio I had slept in even thinking of going back to Isola and extracting myself from there. But as I cycled on, upwards, towards the Col de la Bonette I felt better. I was glad I had decided to do this in daylight. I was enchanted by the views. I was challenged by the climb which fortunately, for a good long section, was on tarmac.

Ultimately the road did become unpaved but the views did not deteriorate in any way.

I knew there was an out and back loop to the col itself and I had contemplated missing it out and going straight to the refuge and checkpoint 1. I felt so good and was enjoying the surrounds so much I decided to keep going and was so glad I did. The very last bit was on tarmac and round a corner to make the col.

The views were breathtaking.

Even better, someone came over and asked if my bike had a motor!

Then it was time to circle the summit and head back down the way I had come before turning off to Bayasse.

Once I had turned off, the path became quite rubbly and technical but I was in such high spirits I descended with little fear and threw myself down to the refuge.

I was looking forward to a coffee and some food but I had forgotten that we were warned the refuge would be closed on Wednesday.

Eating another Snicker (I must have consumed twenty to thirty since the start) I set off down the tarmac to Barcelonette alongside a tumbling river. It was downhill all the way 🙂

Darren’s story.

Coming off the Col de la Bonette I passed Darren who was on his way up.

He had experienced a mechanical early on when his hub broke and he had to go all the way back to Menton to get it fixed. He then got a lift back to the spot where he had turned round and continued to race. He arrived at the first refuge, in the rainstorm, around 10pm (I was already asleep) and set off later than the rest of us the next morning. For the last few days he had been hot on my heels, despite losing at least half a day getting his mechanical sorted. We were to get to know each other better as he had also decided to scratch at Barcelonette.

I arrived at the town and knew I was going no further when I ordered a pichet of wine and lunch.

In the adjacent bar I recognised another rider, Kris. He also had scratched, since his front suspension had collapsed. I joined him for a post prandial beer and we were soon joined by Darren.

The day before I had met Benjamin who told me he was getting a bus. “Do they take bikes?” I asked. He said he was told they did. So in Barcelonette I found the Tourist Office and the woman behind the counter rang the bus company and booked two bikes on the bus the next morning to Gap. Operation Extraction had commenced!

Darren and I booked an apartment, had dinner and retired replete and sanguine about the decision we had made. Especially when we saw this message from Katie, the organiser:

Snails and steak. A most excellent feast.

Day 6 Having scratched didn’t mean the challenge stopped. Now it was time to find a way to get to Thonon where our bags were and people would be congregating for the finishers (and scratchers) drinks on Saturday night.

I had access to a major asset. Alex Armstrong is another member of the Turn Cycling gang. I first met him doing the 2 Volcano Sprint and was supposed to have done Via this summer which he did and completed despite temperatures across Spain in the mid forties! Messaging Alex led me to a great app called Rome2Rio which helped me look at travel options.

Darren and I packed up and headed down to the bus stop. The bus arrived and there was no problem at all in getting our bikes into the storage in the belly.

It was stunningly cheap as well, less than 5euros). We arrived in Gap with a considerable wait for your train to Grenoble so settled down in a nearby park, after a huge pizza, to doze and watch the boules players.

Kris made me feel a little guilty when we met him at a bar opposite the station as he rode there….

The train journey had superb views and the three of us chatted and laughed and swopped stories all the way to Grenoble.

In Grenoble station I liked the little ramps they have installed to make life easier for cyclists 🙂

Kris was stopping over in Grenoble but Darren and I had decided to push onto Annecy. Darren found a two bedroom Airbnb not far from the station. what we didn’t expect was the narrow passage off the street, only just wide enough for the bikes, and the mediaeval staircase to the second floor! It made getting the bikes up to the apartment harder than ascending an alpine col!

We had arrived late but ordered a kebab through UberEats before crashing out.

The End

One thing I know is that when you finish riding you carry on eating. It is impossible to keep up with the energy you burn. I estimate I was burning about 5000-8000 calories a day and there was no way the stuff I was eating was keeping up with that. This means you have a voracious appetite. Fortunately Darren had found somewhere for brunch in Annecy.

We also caught up with Paul who had scratched a bit further on than us and made his way to Grenoble by bike and then Annecy where we met him for the train to Annemasse.

We then decided to ride the last 30 odd kilometres to Thonon les Bains and find accommodation. It was a lovely ride through rolling countryside adjacent to the lake.

We got to the finish and collected our bags and then I had a steep hill to climb to get to the rather swish (but inexpensive) studio apartment I had booked in the centre of town. Only subsequently did I discover the funicular took me right to the top of the hill avoiding the huge effort required to push a bag and bike up the hill! [Well Paul did a lot of the work…]

Time passes quickly as you enjoy a steaming hot shower, change into normal clothes and shoes, pack bags and bikes away and meet and greet friends as they arrive at the finish.

Of the nine of us who started only one would finish: Niel. The rest of us scratched. Jo and JoJo got the furthest. More proof that women are better at endurance rides than a lot of men.

Stuart’s story

Meanwhile we were hearing more of Stuart’s adventures. He had decided that trying to do the route on a gravel bike was incredibly hard. So he logically went and bought himself a full sus mountain bike! Apparently he arranged for the gravel bike to be shipped home and then set off only to discover that the bike had downhill tyres which made for hard going on the tarmac. So he logically went and got the tyres changed. He seemed to experience the most friendly people who took him into Gites and fed him. Ultimately he also scratched but then plotted his route home by train and ferry. He was the only one of us who did not use a plane or car. Kudos!

The finishers party was scheduled for about 7pm on the Saturday. Of course Niel arrived not long after it started to rapturous applause.

At the time he said it was the hardest event he has done, which is something coming from someone who has done rides in the Andes, Atlas Mountains, Balkans and the Silk Road Mountain Race.

The evening ended with five of us having a Chinese meal before splitting up to make our way home the next day; by train and plane for me and the same or cars for the others.

They say you should not spend your money on material goods but on experiences. The joy of events like this is you can do both 😉

Let me finish with a poem a good friend posted recently that captures what I feel about participating in such an event.

Leisure by William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

Thanks: to Niel Copeland for coaching and getting me there. Linda, David and Alice for putting up with my idiosyncrasies. Thanks to Stuart, Paul, Darren, Haico, Martin, Jo and JoJo for being such wonderful company and sharing this amazing event. Thanks to Alex for making it easy to find my way home! The Doc