Our holiday in France in 2014 followed the usual formula: Epic drive by Motorhome to catch up with the Tour de France followed by a meander back home over the following couple of weeks. In this case, the only planning was the route to Bergerac in south-western France for the finish of stage 19 and the individual time trial on the following day. We also planned to get across to the Beaujolais and Burgundy areas to re-stock the wine cellar (under-stairs cupboard) before heading north. The plan for the weeks in-between was a couple of lines on a scrap of paper saying "Bergerac -> Auvergne" and "Auvergne -> Lyon".
So it was that we arrived in the Auvergne for the second half of our holiday. The Auvergne is one of France's finest areas. It's hilly but not mountainous, mostly grass covered extinct volcanoes with the occasional rocky outcrop. Similar to the Lake District, I suppose. We parked up at a Motorhome Aire at a place called Chambon sur Lac. We've been to the area a couple of times before, but this was the first time since we had started road-cycling. The plan was to find some "climbs" to test our legs.
We ride our road bikes for recreation. We enjoy the occasional group ride with the local clubs, but we are not into long distances. We've done 100k rides in the past but have no inclination to go any further in a single ride. However, we are lured by the mystique of the epic Tour de France climbs such as Tourmalet, Alpe d'Huez and Mont Ventoux. We've stood on the side of these climbs and watched the heroes of the cycling world straining at the bars in desperation to maintain a decent pace, yet for some reason we want to have a go ourselves. Thereby lies the motivation to do some "climbs" whilst we were in the Auvergne. I want to climb Mont Ventoux before I'm 60 in 2017, so not much time left to get prepared. My wife is coming along too, although I'm not sure that she shares the same enthusiasm.
We got there on a Sunday afternoon and soon went in search of a restaurant for our evening meal. On the way we popped into a Tourist Information Office. A quick search of the leaflets revealed nothing about road cycling, but there was a poster on the wall about some "Closed Road" climbs, one of which was very close. In our best franglais, we were able to establish from the lad at the desk that a local climb up to the Col de la Croix St Robert was in fact closed to vehicles every Monday morning in July and August from 6:00 to 11:00am. How could we refuse?
There is some detail at this website:
http://www.planetepuydedome.com/destination-volcans/tout-le-puy-de-dome/coups-de-coeur/les-cyclo-cols-du-puy-de-dome-526-1.html
In hindsight,what happened over the next 18 hours was a bit reckless. Other than a road map giving a general idea of the route, we had no guide as to the length and gradient of the climb. We had a full map of France loaded onto the Garmin Edge 800, so we were not going to get lost. We knew that the start of the real climb was about 2 miles away and that there was a bit of a climb to get there.
Anyway, we got up early, packed some water and snack bars and set off. By the way, we were on our old aluminium bikes, not the lightweight carbon jobbies: they were having a rest at home. Just a few hundred metres from the Aire we were into some serious climbing by our standards. I was onto the small chain ring and grinding along at a low cadence as I just did not have enough gears to suit the gradient, my power output and blobby stature. Tanya was a little better off as her old Scott has a triple chainring, so she was able to maintain a decent cadence. Her lightweight physique was also a bonus.
To give you an idea, it was like climbing the steep bit of Woodford Hill again and again and again. Apologies to anyone who does not know Woodford Hill, but is a short climb close to home, the steep bit is about 0.3 miles at an average of 6% gradient. This climb turned out to be 6.3 miles at 6% average. So, Woodford Hill, 21 times just about sums it up.
It's hard to put into words what it felt like. I tried to keep my heart rate below 150bpm. I could still manage the old grunt of communication but conversation was hopeless. I just concentrated on my breathing, long deep breathes getting as much oxygen into my system as I could. The pain in the legs was manageable as along as I kept a steady cadence and did not push too hard every time the gradient stepped up a bit. Now, you always hear the TdF commentators saying how French climbs always have a nice steady gradient: this f**ker was all over the place. As this was a well used climb there were markers every kilometre giving you warning of the gradient over the following kilometre. However, when it said 3%, what it actually should have said was a flat bit then bits of 20%. Nearer the summit, my heart rate had climbed to about 160bpm.
The climb took 53 minutes from top to bottom. Keeping up the effort for that amount of time was challenging to say the least. I had two options: keep going or turn around. Turning around and giving up would not look good on the Strava data would it? Publicly seen to fail, that would be unacceptable. So, I broke it down into stages, one kilometre at a time. At each kilometre sign I would say to myself "Are you feeling any worse than you were a kilometre ago?" Answer "No", Reply "So get on with it". I found that the easiest thing to do is to think of something else like what bottle of wine I would treat myself to or where we go next or how easy Wiggins would find this (that did not help).
The biggest problem was the lack of a lower gear. The bike has a compact chainring and an 11-28 cassette. So I was using a 34-28 gear, but it just was not low enough. I was holding around 7 mph but my cadence was well below what I would normally use. Strava later revealed that I was just pedalling at 67 rpm.
We briefly stopped at the foot of the actual Col to get our breath and take on some fluid. After that, we did not stop until we had passed the summit.
The effort of the climb was quickly forgotten as we reached the summit. There were other cyclist up there. Some had come up from the other side, others were laden down with panniers and camping gear. However, everybody had a smile and time for a chat. We had a good chat in franglais with a guy from Dunkirk an a nice chap from Exeter took our photo for us:
I seem to have managed an epic blobby pose. It was a bit on the chilly side: you can see the cloud rolling in.
A view back down the climb. We started out from the edge of the lake in the distance.
A picture of the climb taken the following day from across the valley. The road follows the lower ridge.
And that was it, we enjoyed the descent although it was bloody cold. Instead of going straight back we took a longer route into the Valle de Chaudfour to recce a parking place for another climb the next day. This time on foot though - that's another story.
This is the Strava data for the whole ride: http://www.strava.com/activities/175198684
Veloviewer gives a good graphic representation of the Strava segment:
Overall this was one of those experiences, the memory of which will stay for a lifetime.
As far as preparing for Mont Ventoux goes, I learnt a few things: 1. I need some lower gears, maybe a 12-30 cassette. 2. I need to lose another 10 kilograms and 3. I need more power :)
