NorthernDave
Never used Über Member
- Location
- The real Northern Powerhouse
The last ever air display for the Vulcan is on Sat 26th Sept at the Yorkshire Airshow at Leeds East Airport (formerly RAF Church Fenton): http://www.yorkshireairshow.co.uk
Your ride today....
- Thread starter gbb
- Start date
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The last ever air display for the Vulcan is on Sat 26th Sept at the Yorkshire Airshow at Leeds East Airport (formerly RAF Church Fenton): http://www.yorkshireairshow.co.uk
- Location
- Egham
Weekend away for me, taking the Cub pack to PGL. Since I need to ride every day, I decided to sneak the bike along with me, think I got away with it
No chance of fitting it in the car as it was full of the Cubs kit.
Saturday I managed to pop out for a 5 mile jaunt, didn't realise just how hilly it was, though being in the Surrey Hills should have been a clue. 500ft of climbing in 5 miles
Sunday an opportunity arose and I headed into Hindhead to have a look at the Devils Punchbowl. Nice to see the old A3 has been torn up, and replaced with a fantastic walking and riding route. Time limited, I only did 7 miles but another 500ft of climbing.
Really must go back again with more time to explore.
No chance of fitting it in the car as it was full of the Cubs kit.
Saturday I managed to pop out for a 5 mile jaunt, didn't realise just how hilly it was, though being in the Surrey Hills should have been a clue. 500ft of climbing in 5 miles
Sunday an opportunity arose and I headed into Hindhead to have a look at the Devils Punchbowl. Nice to see the old A3 has been torn up, and replaced with a fantastic walking and riding route. Time limited, I only did 7 miles but another 500ft of climbing.
Really must go back again with more time to explore.
i hate hills
Its my day to be brilliant
4 very soggy miles this morning despite repeated warnings its going to rain , warnings i refused to take heed of resulting in a soaking. Showered and dressed for work starting at 2pm. Nay luck......
EltonFrog
Legendary Member
Weekend away for me, taking the Cub pack to PGL. Since I need to ride every day, I decided to sneak the bike along with me, think I got away with it
View attachment 103730 .
Where you with with 1st Chertsey Scouts?
- Location
- Egham
1st Chertseys minibus, 2nd Thorpe Cubs. PGL centre in Hindhead, great fun weekend.
EltonFrog
Legendary Member
Ahh I see. 1st Chertsey was my old Scout group back in the olden days.
Donger
Convoi Exceptionnel
- Location
- Quedgeley, Glos.
My most eventful ride last week: A ride of some extraordinary ups and downs, and one I'm never going to forget. I had used my usual motivational tactic of stepping up my ambitions and then telling everyone I know that I'm going to climb my biggest mountain yet - thus making it impossible to back down. I had been training for a climb like this for about a year - in fact since Bealach na Ba last year. Ever since I booked a week's holiday in Annecy, I had been investigating the nearby mountains on "Climbbybike" and similar websites, and I had identified a shortlist of the Col des Aravis, the Col de la Colombiere and the Col de la Forclaz as likely candidates. On the first day of our hols in became clear that the Aravis and the Colombiere were out, due to an unforeseen road closure near Flumet. We did drive there one day, and they look truly wonderful climbs, but I didn't fancy the horrible rat run of a detour that would be needed to go back there with the bike. I settled instead on what Climbbybike reckoned to be much the toughest of the three, the Col de la Forclaz (with a silent "z"). As I was staying nearby at Doussard, I also opted for what is considered to be the hardest direction to climb it - South to North from Vesonne, via Montmin, instead of North to South from Annecy via Talloires. This meant a climb measuring 8.2km (over 5 miles), with 655 metres of height gain, up to an altitude of 1,150m. The average gradient was 8%, but this hid the fact that, up around the village of Montmin near the top of the climb, there is a big sweeping descent for what seemed about 1Km before the final 11% section. Worse still, there were two sections on the map showing triple chevrons and "13%" gradients. One of these was quite near the start, and is followed by a whole km of 9.8%, making quite a brutal introduction to the climb. With me weighing in at a tad over 20st (approx 120kg) and therefore twice the weight of your typical climber, this was always going to be tough. Given that I'd also done about 450m of climbing the previous day, "brutal" was probably the word for it.
Here was my first sight of the road (from the opposite side of the main road) rising up through Vesonne before disappearing up a long, wooded ravine:
I pulled over in the village to take on drinks and an energy bar before starting the climb with some trepidation, as it was now or never:
Going at it a bit like a bull at a gate, I overcooked the start, getting carried away with the euphoria of gaining height and seeing the village below getting smaller and smaller. I even momentarily considered quitting after about 1km, as my thighs were burning and I was starting to lose control of my breathing. Managed to pull myself together, though, and got my breathing technique and my posture right, so I carried on past the surreal sight of a pair of brand new pine toilet cabinets in a lay-by on one of the hairpins. I eventually made it to something like the 2 or 2.5km mark, where there was a religious shrine on a lovely level lay-by. I stopped here, reckoning I'd have a better chance of getting both feet back in the straps afterwards than if I were to grind to a halt on a steep bit.
After a short drinks rest, I got back on and managed another couple of km before my next stop. It didn't pay to look down at this point, as the ravine was bottomless. You don't always appreciate it when you see other cyclists doing it, but when you start to get a bit wobbly and you are hanging on for dear life, part of your mind actually convinces you that you are going to drop over the edge if any cars get too close. Fortunately this was still early in the morning, and there was very little traffic about.
Marking every km climbed, there were yellow and white markers advertising the current gradient and distance remaining to the col. These started to get a little discouraging, as most of the ones I noticed seemed to state "11%" and more kms than I cared to think about. I was getting a good technique going, though, and I managed to settle into a decent rythm - until I hit this bit (13% again) just below the village of Montmin, where the wooded ravine made way to alpine meadows, a series of steep hairpin bends and clear views of massive limestone crests above:
I stopped another twice in this section. It was either that, or dial an ambulance.
After the village of Montmin, which seemed curiously out of place near the top of a mountain, came a welcome sweeping descent around a big curve. Here I had to hit the brakes quite hard as I encountered a car coming the other way a bit too fast. They juddered and squealed a bit, but I was still blissfully unaware of the mechanical disaster that had just happened. One further (fifth) stop ensued as I approached my limit. I regretted that one, as the very moment I remounted, the first building at the pass came into view, and I reckon I would have made it to the top without that last stop if I'd known. As I dragged my sorry ass over the top, the 5 mile climb had taken me a little over an hour and 10 minutes, so Chris Froome has no competion to worry about. Man, did that feel good, though..... I'm even starting to suspect myself of blood doping or taking EPO. My real reason for choosing this climb, though, was for the view at the top. If you just cycled on through, you might not even see it, which would be a massive shame. I knew it was there, so I did the usual posing next to the signposts and from the belvedere just off the side of the road among a collection of shops and restaurants.
Obligatory bike shot:
then one for the tourists among you:
And a selfie of course .... with me still not looking happy (though actually feeling elated, but shattered):
Eventually, a French couple turned up and took this one for me. (Had to show off the Kingsway CC kit for the benefit of @gordyfinbar, @Dark46, @maltloaf etc ..... the first time it has been seen at the top of an Alp):
Feeling smug and contented, I turned the bike around and looked back at the final 11% bit I'd come up:
....before setting off back down the 655m descent with a feeling of euphoria .... which lasted for about 20 seconds..., Which was about how long it took me to realise that my brakes were not working
. Squeezing the levers as hard as I could, and with my fingers going white, I finally managed to bring the bike to a halt several hundred metres further than I would have liked down an 11% stretch. It turned out that my front brake had actually spat out a brake pad, completely unnoticed by me, on the downhill section about 1km short of the col. And Muggins here didn't carry a spare. (Mental note: Always carry one in future, however much @gordyfinbar nags me not to carry so much stuff). As it happens, a spare would have been of precious little use anyway. as I had completely nackered my front wheel. As I had pulled to a halt, I actually saw sparks flying as the front wheel screamed and squealed even louder than I did. This had been a case of metal on metal, and I had actually filed my own wheel rim down, leaving curling metal burrs in various places on the right side of the rim. Bugger!
Nothing for it. I just had to start walking... for 5 miles. When I hit the dip about 1km down, I was able to remount and climb back up to Montmin, and there were one or two stretches of road after that with gradients below 8 or 9% where I was able to roll down with my rear brake jammed on tight. These were few and far between, though. I just had to judge where I would be able to stop, and where I wouldn't. Made it about a third of the way down by a combination of walking and very gingerly cycling. had one or two scary moments where I started to think about which direction it would be best to crash in, before jamming on the metal-to-metal front brake again and grinding to a halt.
At one point a friendly French cyclist came by and stopped to offer assistance and we chatted for a moment before he rode off. A few seconds later, he turned the bike around on a steep bit and rode back uphill towards me to enquire whether I had a phone signal or anyone who could come to help. Very kind. Another cyclist swooshed by without acknowledging my existence.
Eventually a large minibus pulled up alongside and gestured an offer of a ride. It was a German guy who had been delivering paragliders to the launch site at the top of the mountain for a company called "GlideZeit", and he had a lovely empty minibus with a cavernous load area at the back that took my bike with ease. Result! The excitement was not quite over yet, though, as he appeared to have been tought to drive by either Michael Schumacher or Sebastian Vettel. Whether it would have been more frightening to have ridden the bike down with no brakes or to accept the lift is debatable. I suppose he must have driven that route 10 or 12 times a day for several weeks, but how he managed to drop down at over 50mph without apparently turning the steering wheel, I will never know. Straightened out every twist and turn, he did, almost skimming every guard rail on one side and every cliff face on the other. I was breathless by the time we got back down to Vesonne, where I thanked him again and carried on home via the lovely flat cycle path to Doussard, arriving back at the house at the exact time I'd promised Mrs Donger I would do.
So there you are.. My biggest and best climb ever, followed by having to be rescued on a mountain and then having the bejeezuz scared out of me by a kind but scary maniac German driver. After that, I was happy to stick to the wonderful lakeside cycle path for the rest of the week. I did find a couple of bicycle repair shops, but neither could make me a new front wheel before the Thursday night at the earliest, so I would only have been able to do one more climb anyway. You would think that would be a bit depressing, but not a bit of it. I was walking on air for days after doing that climb. After two holidays here and a couple in Scotland, I now know I can climb pretty much anything that a large minibus or small truck can get up. I also drove that climb a couple of times during the week, and in the two car rides and my bike ride I never saw a single other cyclist tackling it in that direction. Turns out they sell T shirts commemorating this climb (though in the easier direction), so I'm now feeling like a real "chasseur de col". (All 20st of me).
What to plan now though? .... Back onto Climbbybike for me to research my next target. Onwards and upwards next year.
Cheers, Donger.
Here was my first sight of the road (from the opposite side of the main road) rising up through Vesonne before disappearing up a long, wooded ravine:
Going at it a bit like a bull at a gate, I overcooked the start, getting carried away with the euphoria of gaining height and seeing the village below getting smaller and smaller. I even momentarily considered quitting after about 1km, as my thighs were burning and I was starting to lose control of my breathing. Managed to pull myself together, though, and got my breathing technique and my posture right, so I carried on past the surreal sight of a pair of brand new pine toilet cabinets in a lay-by on one of the hairpins. I eventually made it to something like the 2 or 2.5km mark, where there was a religious shrine on a lovely level lay-by. I stopped here, reckoning I'd have a better chance of getting both feet back in the straps afterwards than if I were to grind to a halt on a steep bit.
After a short drinks rest, I got back on and managed another couple of km before my next stop. It didn't pay to look down at this point, as the ravine was bottomless. You don't always appreciate it when you see other cyclists doing it, but when you start to get a bit wobbly and you are hanging on for dear life, part of your mind actually convinces you that you are going to drop over the edge if any cars get too close. Fortunately this was still early in the morning, and there was very little traffic about.
Marking every km climbed, there were yellow and white markers advertising the current gradient and distance remaining to the col. These started to get a little discouraging, as most of the ones I noticed seemed to state "11%" and more kms than I cared to think about. I was getting a good technique going, though, and I managed to settle into a decent rythm - until I hit this bit (13% again) just below the village of Montmin, where the wooded ravine made way to alpine meadows, a series of steep hairpin bends and clear views of massive limestone crests above:
I stopped another twice in this section. It was either that, or dial an ambulance.
After the village of Montmin, which seemed curiously out of place near the top of a mountain, came a welcome sweeping descent around a big curve. Here I had to hit the brakes quite hard as I encountered a car coming the other way a bit too fast. They juddered and squealed a bit, but I was still blissfully unaware of the mechanical disaster that had just happened. One further (fifth) stop ensued as I approached my limit. I regretted that one, as the very moment I remounted, the first building at the pass came into view, and I reckon I would have made it to the top without that last stop if I'd known. As I dragged my sorry ass over the top, the 5 mile climb had taken me a little over an hour and 10 minutes, so Chris Froome has no competion to worry about. Man, did that feel good, though..... I'm even starting to suspect myself of blood doping or taking EPO. My real reason for choosing this climb, though, was for the view at the top. If you just cycled on through, you might not even see it, which would be a massive shame. I knew it was there, so I did the usual posing next to the signposts and from the belvedere just off the side of the road among a collection of shops and restaurants.Obligatory bike shot:
then one for the tourists among you:
And a selfie of course .... with me still not looking happy (though actually feeling elated, but shattered):
Eventually, a French couple turned up and took this one for me. (Had to show off the Kingsway CC kit for the benefit of @gordyfinbar, @Dark46, @maltloaf etc ..... the first time it has been seen at the top of an Alp):
Feeling smug and contented, I turned the bike around and looked back at the final 11% bit I'd come up:
....before setting off back down the 655m descent with a feeling of euphoria .... which lasted for about 20 seconds..., Which was about how long it took me to realise that my brakes were not working
. Squeezing the levers as hard as I could, and with my fingers going white, I finally managed to bring the bike to a halt several hundred metres further than I would have liked down an 11% stretch. It turned out that my front brake had actually spat out a brake pad, completely unnoticed by me, on the downhill section about 1km short of the col. And Muggins here didn't carry a spare. (Mental note: Always carry one in future, however much @gordyfinbar nags me not to carry so much stuff). As it happens, a spare would have been of precious little use anyway. as I had completely nackered my front wheel. As I had pulled to a halt, I actually saw sparks flying as the front wheel screamed and squealed even louder than I did. This had been a case of metal on metal, and I had actually filed my own wheel rim down, leaving curling metal burrs in various places on the right side of the rim. Bugger!Nothing for it. I just had to start walking... for 5 miles. When I hit the dip about 1km down, I was able to remount and climb back up to Montmin, and there were one or two stretches of road after that with gradients below 8 or 9% where I was able to roll down with my rear brake jammed on tight. These were few and far between, though. I just had to judge where I would be able to stop, and where I wouldn't. Made it about a third of the way down by a combination of walking and very gingerly cycling. had one or two scary moments where I started to think about which direction it would be best to crash in, before jamming on the metal-to-metal front brake again and grinding to a halt.
At one point a friendly French cyclist came by and stopped to offer assistance and we chatted for a moment before he rode off. A few seconds later, he turned the bike around on a steep bit and rode back uphill towards me to enquire whether I had a phone signal or anyone who could come to help. Very kind. Another cyclist swooshed by without acknowledging my existence.
Eventually a large minibus pulled up alongside and gestured an offer of a ride. It was a German guy who had been delivering paragliders to the launch site at the top of the mountain for a company called "GlideZeit", and he had a lovely empty minibus with a cavernous load area at the back that took my bike with ease. Result! The excitement was not quite over yet, though, as he appeared to have been tought to drive by either Michael Schumacher or Sebastian Vettel. Whether it would have been more frightening to have ridden the bike down with no brakes or to accept the lift is debatable. I suppose he must have driven that route 10 or 12 times a day for several weeks, but how he managed to drop down at over 50mph without apparently turning the steering wheel, I will never know. Straightened out every twist and turn, he did, almost skimming every guard rail on one side and every cliff face on the other. I was breathless by the time we got back down to Vesonne, where I thanked him again and carried on home via the lovely flat cycle path to Doussard, arriving back at the house at the exact time I'd promised Mrs Donger I would do.
So there you are.. My biggest and best climb ever, followed by having to be rescued on a mountain and then having the bejeezuz scared out of me by a kind but scary maniac German driver. After that, I was happy to stick to the wonderful lakeside cycle path for the rest of the week. I did find a couple of bicycle repair shops, but neither could make me a new front wheel before the Thursday night at the earliest, so I would only have been able to do one more climb anyway. You would think that would be a bit depressing, but not a bit of it. I was walking on air for days after doing that climb. After two holidays here and a couple in Scotland, I now know I can climb pretty much anything that a large minibus or small truck can get up. I also drove that climb a couple of times during the week, and in the two car rides and my bike ride I never saw a single other cyclist tackling it in that direction. Turns out they sell T shirts commemorating this climb (though in the easier direction), so I'm now feeling like a real "chasseur de col". (All 20st of me).
What to plan now though? .... Back onto Climbbybike for me to research my next target. Onwards and upwards next year.
Cheers, Donger.
Last edited:
- Location
- Somewhere wet & hilly in NW England.
EltonFrog
Legendary Member
Not riding much at the moment, training for a half marathon, but I got on the bike in my new M&S cycling chinos to go to the bank in town. It's a horrible wet windy grey day here in South Oxfordshire, so I just did the 5.97 mile round trip and came back home.
Wet track
Wet sky
Wet fields
Wet cows.
Wet track
Wet sky
Wet fields
Wet cows.
Goonerobes
Its okay to be white
- Location
- Wiltshire
PatrickPending
Legendary Member
- Location
- Leicester
My rides Thurday to Saturday...
Thursday
Firstly a ride along the canal towpath from South Wigston to just outside of Market Harborough - 54Km and my first ride in two weeks (I don't count the 9km in Neuschwanstein, Bavaria as that was very leisurely). Forgot how nice it was!
Friday 115Km
Blaby - Broughton Astley - Leire - South Kilworth - Cold Ashby - Naseby - Brixworth - Hasselbech - Marston Trussel - Mosely - Gumley - Saddington - Arnesby - Peatling Magna - Countesthorpe - Blaby
Part of my 100Km/month challenge and a nice ride out - lovely weather too!
Saturday - A repeat of Thursday's ride - going just that bit further this time - 56Km - lovely ride saw loads of ducks, dragonflies, herons etc and weather was just gorgeous - aside from the light shower just beyond Foxton. Photo taken somewhere along the canal on the way back - getting near to dark and a puncture didn't help!
Quite a nice few day's rides really!
Thursday
Firstly a ride along the canal towpath from South Wigston to just outside of Market Harborough - 54Km and my first ride in two weeks (I don't count the 9km in Neuschwanstein, Bavaria as that was very leisurely). Forgot how nice it was!
Friday 115Km
Blaby - Broughton Astley - Leire - South Kilworth - Cold Ashby - Naseby - Brixworth - Hasselbech - Marston Trussel - Mosely - Gumley - Saddington - Arnesby - Peatling Magna - Countesthorpe - Blaby
Part of my 100Km/month challenge and a nice ride out - lovely weather too!
Saturday - A repeat of Thursday's ride - going just that bit further this time - 56Km - lovely ride saw loads of ducks, dragonflies, herons etc and weather was just gorgeous - aside from the light shower just beyond Foxton. Photo taken somewhere along the canal on the way back - getting near to dark and a puncture didn't help!
Quite a nice few day's rides really!
- Location
- Shrewsbury, Shropshire
Great write up and Chapeau! for getting up there.My most eventful ride last week: A ride of some extraordinary ups and downs, and one I'm never going to forget. I had used my usual motivational tactic of stepping up my ambitions and then telling everyone I know that I'm going to climb my biggest mountain yet - thus making it impossible to back down. I had been training for a climb like this for about a year - in fact since Bealach na Ba last year. Ever since I booked a week's holiday in Annecy, I had been investigating the nearby mountains on "Climbbybike" and similar websites, and I had identified a shortlist of the Col des Aravis, the Col de la Colombiere and the Col de la Forclaz as likely candidates. On the first day of our hols in became clear that the Aravis and the Colombiere were out, due to an unforeseen road closure near Flumet. We did drive there one day, and they look truly wonderful climbs, but I didn't fancy the horrible rat run of a detour that would be needed to go back there with the bike. I settled instead on what Climbbybike reckoned to be much the toughest of the three, the Col de la Forclaz (with a silent "z"). As I was staying nearby at Doussard, I also opted for what is considered to be the hardest direction to climb it - South to North from Vesonne, via Montmin, instead of North to South from Annecy via Talloires. This meant a climb measuring 8.2km (over 5 miles), with 655 metres of height gain, up to an altitude of 1,150m. The average gradient was 8%, but this hid the fact that, up around the village of Montmin near the top of the climb, there is a big sweeping descent for what seemed about 1Km before the final 11% section. Worse still, there were two sections on the map showing triple chevrons and "13%" gradients. One of these was quite near the start, and is followed by a whole km of 9.8%, making quite a brutal introduction to the climb. With me weighing in at a tad over 20st (approx 120kg) and therefore twice the weight of your typical climber, this was always going to be tough. Given that I'd also done about 450m of climbing the previous day, "brutal" was probably the word for it.
Here was my first sight of the road (from the opposite side of the main road) rising up through Vesonne before disappearing up a long, wooded ravine:
View attachment 103752 I pulled over in the village to take on drinks and an energy bar before starting the climb with some trepidation, as it was now or never:
View attachment 103753
Going at it a bit like a bull at a gate, I overcooked the start, getting carried away with the euphoria of gaining height and seeing the village below getting smaller and smaller. I even momentarily considered quitting after about 1km, as my thighs were burning and I was starting to lose control of my breathing. Managed to pull myself together, though, and got my breathing technique and my posture right, so I carried on past the surreal sight of a pair of brand new pine toilet cabinets in a lay-by on one of the hairpins. I eventually made it to something like the 2 or 2.5km mark, where there was a religious shrine on a lovely level lay-by. I stopped here, reckoning I'd have a better chance of getting both feet back in the straps afterwards than if I were to grind to a halt on a steep bit.
View attachment 103754
After a short drinks rest, I got back on and managed another couple of km before my next stop. It didn't pay to look down at this point, as the ravine was bottomless. You don't always appreciate it when you see other cyclists doing it, but when you start to get a bit wobbly and you are hanging on for dear life, part of your mind actually convinces you that you are going to drop over the edge if any cars get too close. Fortunately this was still early in the morning, and there was very little traffic about.
View attachment 103755
Marking every km climbed, there were yellow and white markers advertising the current gradient and distance remaining to the col. These started to get a little discouraging, as most of the ones I noticed seemed to state "11%" and more kms than I cared to think about. I was getting a good technique going, though, and I managed to settle into a decent rythm - until I hit this bit (13% again) just below the village of Montmin, where the wooded ravine made way to alpine meadows, a series of steep hairpin bends and clear views of massive limestone crests above:
View attachment 103756
I stopped another twice in this section. It was either that, or dial an ambulance.
Obligatory bike shot: View attachment 103758
then one for the tourists among you:
View attachment 103759
And a selfie of course .... with me still not looking happy (though actually feeling elated, but shattered):
View attachment 103760
Eventually, a French couple turned up and took this one for me. (Had to show off the Kingsway CC kit for the benefit of @gordyfinbar, @Dark46, @maltloaf etc ..... the first time it has been seen at the top of an Alp):
View attachment 103761
Feeling smug and contented, I turned the bike around and looked back at the final 11% bit I'd come up:
View attachment 103764
....before setting off back down the 655m descent with a feeling of euphoria .... which lasted for about 20 seconds..., Which was about how long it took me to realise that my brakes were not working
Nothing for it. I just had to start walking... for 5 miles. When I hit the dip about 1km down, I was able to remount and climb back up to Montmin, and there were one or two stretches of road after that with gradients below 8 or 9% where I was able to roll down with my rear brake jammed on tight. These were few and far between, though. I just had to judge where I would be able to stop, and where I wouldn't. Made it about a third of the way down by a combination of walking and very gingerly cycling. had one or two scary moments where I started to think about which direction it would be best to crash in, before jamming on the metal-to-metal front brake again and grinding to a halt.
At one point a friendly French cyclist came by and stopped to offer assistance and we chatted for a moment before he rode off. A few seconds later, he turned the bike around on a steep bit and rode back uphill towards me to enquire whether I had a phone signal or anyone who could come to help. Very kind. Another cyclist swooshed by without acknowledging my existence.
Eventually a large minibus pulled up alongside and gestured an offer of a ride. It was a German guy who had been delivering paragliders to the launch site at the top of the mountain for a company called "GlideZeit", and he had a lovely empty minibus with a cavernous load area at the back that took my bike with ease. Result! The excitement was not quite over yet, though, as he appeared to have been tought to drive by either Michael Schumacher or Sebastian Vettel. Whether it would have been more frightening to have ridden the bike down with no brakes or to accept the lift is debatable. I suppose he must have driven that route 10 or 12 times a day for several weeks, but how he managed to drop down at over 50mph without apparently turning the steering wheel, I will never know. Straightened out every twist and turn, he did, almost skimming every guard rail on one side and every cliff face on the other. I was breathless by the time we got back down to Vesonne, where I thanked him again and carried on home via the lovely flat cycle path to Doussard, arriving back at the house at the exact time I'd promised Mrs Donger I would do.
So there you are.. My biggest and best climb ever, followed by having to be rescued on a mountain and then having the bejeezuz scared out of me by a kind but scary maniac German driver. After that, I was happy to stick to the wonderful lakeside cycle path for the rest of the week. I did find a couple of bicycle repair shops, but neither could make me a new front wheel before the Thursday night at the earliest, so I would only have been able to do one more climb anyway. You would think that would be a bit depressing, but not a bit of it. I was walking on air for days after doing that climb. After two holidays here and a couple in Scotland, I now know I can climb pretty much anything that a large minibus or small truck can get up. I also drove that climb a couple of times during the week, and in the two car rides and my bike ride I never saw a single other cyclist tackling it in that direction. Turns out they sell T shirts comemmorating this climb (though in the easier direction), so I'm now feeling like a real "chasseur de col". (All 20st of me).
What to plan now though? .... Back onto Climbbybike for me to research my next target. Onwards and upwards next year.
Cheers, Donger.
gavgav
Legendary Member
Superb effort @Donger and quite an adventure!My most eventful ride last week: A ride of some extraordinary ups and downs, and one I'm never going to forget. I had used my usual motivational tactic of stepping up my ambitions and then telling everyone I know that I'm going to climb my biggest mountain yet - thus making it impossible to back down. I had been training for a climb like this for about a year - in fact since Bealach na Ba last year. Ever since I booked a week's holiday in Annecy, I had been investigating the nearby mountains on "Climbbybike" and similar websites, and I had identified a shortlist of the Col des Aravis, the Col de la Colombiere and the Col de la Forclaz as likely candidates. On the first day of our hols in became clear that the Aravis and the Colombiere were out, due to an unforeseen road closure near Flumet. We did drive there one day, and they look truly wonderful climbs, but I didn't fancy the horrible rat run of a detour that would be needed to go back there with the bike. I settled instead on what Climbbybike reckoned to be much the toughest of the three, the Col de la Forclaz (with a silent "z"). As I was staying nearby at Doussard, I also opted for what is considered to be the hardest direction to climb it - South to North from Vesonne, via Montmin, instead of North to South from Annecy via Talloires. This meant a climb measuring 8.2km (over 5 miles), with 655 metres of height gain, up to an altitude of 1,150m. The average gradient was 8%, but this hid the fact that, up around the village of Montmin near the top of the climb, there is a big sweeping descent for what seemed about 1Km before the final 11% section. Worse still, there were two sections on the map showing triple chevrons and "13%" gradients. One of these was quite near the start, and is followed by a whole km of 9.8%, making quite a brutal introduction to the climb. With me weighing in at a tad over 20st (approx 120kg) and therefore twice the weight of your typical climber, this was always going to be tough. Given that I'd also done about 450m of climbing the previous day, "brutal" was probably the word for it.
Here was my first sight of the road (from the opposite side of the main road) rising up through Vesonne before disappearing up a long, wooded ravine:
View attachment 103752 I pulled over in the village to take on drinks and an energy bar before starting the climb with some trepidation, as it was now or never:
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Going at it a bit like a bull at a gate, I overcooked the start, getting carried away with the euphoria of gaining height and seeing the village below getting smaller and smaller. I even momentarily considered quitting after about 1km, as my thighs were burning and I was starting to lose control of my breathing. Managed to pull myself together, though, and got my breathing technique and my posture right, so I carried on past the surreal sight of a pair of brand new pine toilet cabinets in a lay-by on one of the hairpins. I eventually made it to something like the 2 or 2.5km mark, where there was a religious shrine on a lovely level lay-by. I stopped here, reckoning I'd have a better chance of getting both feet back in the straps afterwards than if I were to grind to a halt on a steep bit.
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After a short drinks rest, I got back on and managed another couple of km before my next stop. It didn't pay to look down at this point, as the ravine was bottomless. You don't always appreciate it when you see other cyclists doing it, but when you start to get a bit wobbly and you are hanging on for dear life, part of your mind actually convinces you that you are going to drop over the edge if any cars get too close. Fortunately this was still early in the morning, and there was very little traffic about.
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Marking every km climbed, there were yellow and white markers advertising the current gradient and distance remaining to the col. These started to get a little discouraging, as most of the ones I noticed seemed to state "11%" and more kms than I cared to think about. I was getting a good technique going, though, and I managed to settle into a decent rythm - until I hit this bit (13% again) just below the village of Montmin, where the wooded ravine made way to alpine meadows, a series of steep hairpin bends and clear views of massive limestone crests above:
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I stopped another twice in this section. It was either that, or dial an ambulance.
Obligatory bike shot: View attachment 103758
then one for the tourists among you:
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And a selfie of course .... with me still not looking happy (though actually feeling elated, but shattered):
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Eventually, a French couple turned up and took this one for me. (Had to show off the Kingsway CC kit for the benefit of @gordyfinbar, @Dark46, @maltloaf etc ..... the first time it has been seen at the top of an Alp):
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Feeling smug and contented, I turned the bike around and looked back at the final 11% bit I'd come up:
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....before setting off back down the 655m descent with a feeling of euphoria .... which lasted for about 20 seconds..., Which was about how long it took me to realise that my brakes were not working
Nothing for it. I just had to start walking... for 5 miles. When I hit the dip about 1km down, I was able to remount and climb back up to Montmin, and there were one or two stretches of road after that with gradients below 8 or 9% where I was able to roll down with my rear brake jammed on tight. These were few and far between, though. I just had to judge where I would be able to stop, and where I wouldn't. Made it about a third of the way down by a combination of walking and very gingerly cycling. had one or two scary moments where I started to think about which direction it would be best to crash in, before jamming on the metal-to-metal front brake again and grinding to a halt.
At one point a friendly French cyclist came by and stopped to offer assistance and we chatted for a moment before he rode off. A few seconds later, he turned the bike around on a steep bit and rode back uphill towards me to enquire whether I had a phone signal or anyone who could come to help. Very kind. Another cyclist swooshed by without acknowledging my existence.
Eventually a large minibus pulled up alongside and gestured an offer of a ride. It was a German guy who had been delivering paragliders to the launch site at the top of the mountain for a company called "GlideZeit", and he had a lovely empty minibus with a cavernous load area at the back that took my bike with ease. Result! The excitement was not quite over yet, though, as he appeared to have been tought to drive by either Michael Schumacher or Sebastian Vettel. Whether it would have been more frightening to have ridden the bike down with no brakes or to accept the lift is debatable. I suppose he must have driven that route 10 or 12 times a day for several weeks, but how he managed to drop down at over 50mph without apparently turning the steering wheel, I will never know. Straightened out every twist and turn, he did, almost skimming every guard rail on one side and every cliff face on the other. I was breathless by the time we got back down to Vesonne, where I thanked him again and carried on home via the lovely flat cycle path to Doussard, arriving back at the house at the exact time I'd promised Mrs Donger I would do.
So there you are.. My biggest and best climb ever, followed by having to be rescued on a mountain and then having the bejeezuz scared out of me by a kind but scary maniac German driver. After that, I was happy to stick to the wonderful lakeside cycle path for the rest of the week. I did find a couple of bicycle repair shops, but neither could make me a new front wheel before the Thursday night at the earliest, so I would only have been able to do one more climb anyway. You would think that would be a bit depressing, but not a bit of it. I was walking on air for days after doing that climb. After two holidays here and a couple in Scotland, I now know I can climb pretty much anything that a large minibus or small truck can get up. I also drove that climb a couple of times during the week, and in the two car rides and my bike ride I never saw a single other cyclist tackling it in that direction. Turns out they sell T shirts comemmorating this climb (though in the easier direction), so I'm now feeling like a real "chasseur de col". (All 20st of me).
What to plan now though? .... Back onto Climbbybike for me to research my next target. Onwards and upwards next year.
Cheers, Donger.
