Proposed Route: Lanslevillard-Bussoleno-Avigliana
Estimated Mileage: 50 miles/80 km
Actual Route: Lanslevillard-Bussoleno-Avigliana
Mileage Covered: 48 miles/78 km
Average cycling speed: 14.65 mph
Maximum speed: 35.1 mph
Cycling time: 3 hours 15 minutes.
Terrain: Mountainous.
Weather: Blizzard conditions in the morning; afternoon sunny but cold on Mont Cenis, then warm as we descended into Italy. Wind Force 4, variable and gusting.
Degree of Difficulty:
Narrative: Sunday
9 am Lanslevillard Last night we listenened to the rain on the top of the van,
and awoke to a day wreathed in low mist, the mountains just before us no longer
even visible. About an hour ago, the snow started: not just a few flakes, but
a near white-out, a virtual blizzard. It is settling thickly on the hills and
ground, as well as over the vehicles and tents in the campsite and shows no
sign of relenting in the immediate future.
What a shame! We went to bed last night with
a keen sense of anticipation, looking forward to today's climb over the Col
du Mont Cenis into Italy. It seemed as if we had done most of the work already,
and we were looking forward to it greatly. But today the mountains, so unmoving
and formidable, have had their say: we will have to wait as there is no question
whatsoever of departing in these conditions. The van could not even make it
over the pass, let alone us on bicycles.
I am reminded of last year's Tour de France.
On June 8th, the Tour was supposed to pass over the Col d'Isseron from Val d'Isere
across to this valley, passing the road just in front of where I sit at this
moment. However, a white-out in the mountains caused the organisers to abandon
that stretch, and so the whole entourage came across the pass in cars and then
tried to set off from Lanslebourg, just a few kilometres down the valley, the
town where we had lunch yesterday. The conditions worsened, though: in addition
to the snow, a horrendous 120 kph wind screamed up the valley making riding
impossible and the entire stage had to be abandoned.
Our stage, our climb, will not be abandoned.
We shall simply have to be patient and wait until the weather and the mountain
allows us to climb it. This afternoon, perhaps, or else tomorrow. Or else the
next day. But climb it we will.
11:30 am Incroyable! The snow
continues to fall in huge wet flakes: there are now at least two inches on the
ground, and there is no sign of it slowing up. The clouds remain low, and we
still cannot see the mountain pass. It is not, I am afraid, looking good for
today, and unless there is some miraculous and sudden change, then we may have
to stay put for another day.
1 pm The swiftness that the weather
changes in the Alps is unbelievable: the snow has stopped, there is now a beautiful
blue sky, the mountains look stunning with their covering of white, and our
mountain pass is visible and inviting. We've just eaten a steaming bowl of lentilles
au petit sale and shall shortly tog up to begin our ride!
9:50 pmWhat day, what a magnificent,
classic climb. The weather cleared with astonishing rapidity. Once the snow
stopped falling and the sun came out, the road up to the Col steamed as it dried
out and the sun was hot. The sky was a deep, beautiful blue that contrasted
sharply against the white of the mountains, and the air was fresh and cool,
like you only get in the mountains after a flash storm that has blown away all
the grey and heaviness.
We set out on the climb at 1:38 pm.Though
undoubtedly there are mountain passes that are more severe, the Col du Mont
Cenis is nonetheless a climb that would rate five-banana by any standard. On
the map, it is marked with a hash for most of the climb, and with two hashes
towards the top, indicating the severity of the incline. It winds in sharp hairpins
up to the pass over 10 unrelenting kilometres, most of the way considerably
steeper than Mamhead, our hardest local climb. It is the sort of climb that
you just settle into, get a rhythm, concentrate and keep peddling.
As we soon rose above the large slate rooves of Lanslevillard, the views across
the valley were quite magnificent, especially looking across to the dramatic
Dents de Parachee. We were togged up in our winter gear: long tights, thermal
tops, plus windbreakers, and it was steaming hot as we climbed, though the air
temperature hovered just over freezing.
When we were just over half way -- that is,
after about a half-hour of unrelenting effort -- we heard a car honking wildly
and repeatedly as it rose up the road behind us. "Watch out," I said to Nello.
"Some crazy lunatic, speeding up the Col." As the car got nearer, we heard shouting
and cheering. It was Nello's brother Enrico and sister Lia, and their respective
partners Anna and Primo! They had driven over 250 kilometres from Varese, north
of Milan, to see us. When they caught up with us, we of course did not stop
the climb, but just carried on, with the Ghezzos cheering us on at every bend,
and Harry and Hugh doing the same, as well as taking photos. We
finally reached the Col at 2000 metres in just under an hour (58 minutes). What
an overwhelming sense of achievement and satisfaction, combined with wonder
and amazement at the gorgeous high alpine wonderland around us, the peaks no
longer so towering above us, the snow-covered meadows dotted with brown cows
taken up on high to chalets for the summer transhumance. There was an emotional
reunion for Nello with his family, and once on top, we all repaired to a bar
to enjoy a panino caldo -- a hot sandwich --, a glass of wine, an espresso,
and much animated conversation and laughter.
From the top, the descent was fast and hairy,
a succession of hair-pin bends plunging way down to the valley floor, a downhill
run of almost 20 miles and a drop in elevation of over 1700 metres. Then a fast
ride along the valley floor to Avigliana, where we sat outside in the sun in
the campsite above a lake, enjoying a -- what to us, at least, seemed -- well-earned
glass of sparkling Saumur and Anna's fruit cake with Enrico, Lia, Primo and
Anna.
11:30 pmThe end of a long day: it
is time for bed, we're full after a wonderfully simple meal of spaghetti
aglio, olio e peperoncino and an apple. Hugh (now christened by Nello's
family "Ugo") and Harry are sorting out the van. As I think back on not just
today, but on all the build-up and anticipation that led to it, I am reminded
of one of Ugo's sayings: Today is the tomorrow that you worried about yesterday;
and all is well. So it is.
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