Saturday, 2 August 2014

The D93, French road signs, and drivers.

You can't avoid the D93 in these parts: it's the artery that feeds all the towns and villages all the way from Saillans in the west to Col de Cabre in the east, and forms a substantial part of the road that goes from the Rhône to Gap and on to Italy. Of course, the geography being as it is in these parts, it shadows both the river Drôme and the railway. But as a cyclist, you'll probably get to know it rather better than either river or railway.

From Die, the only way you'll avoid it completely is if you head straight up to the Vercors plateau. But like it or loathe it, the D93 is the way to access an enormous variety of routes west, south and east. But it can also have its pleasures in its own right.

For a start, it is your archetypal French road: great surface (regularly maintained), often with a decent cycle lane, good views, and gently undulating (until Col de Cabre). Secondly, it is not boring, unlike some dead straight Napoleonic roads. Having said that, it can be gruelling: into a headwind, with rain, tired legs, and if you're in a hurry, it can seem interminable: at those times, you've just got to get your head into the place where you can grind out the miles, with teeth gritted, though I will admit to trying to plan routes that don't end with a 20-mile slog along the D93 into a strong headwind.

And so to the advisory bit of this post. Firstly, road signage, and specifically 'priorité a droite'. The default position in Framce is that you give priority at any junction to the road on your right, even if it's a small street joining a bigger one. This will often have a warning 'X' sign. However, this default can be overridden either with a sign giving priority at a specific junction to the 'main road', or by a general cancelling of PaD, signalled by a large yellow diamond. The yellow diamond with a line through re-establishes PaD. (See photos for examples of these signs.) It's not really as complicated as it sounds: most main roads outside of towns and villages aren't PaD, and if you're unsure at a specific junction, just take care!

Lastly, (with reference to the D93): French drivers. French drivers in these parts tend to drive fast, and many will tailgate and overtake other cars as if they are at Le Mans. That said, the vast majority are respectful of cyclists, and you won't suffer any punishment passes.

However, at the same time, most will assume that the D93 (and roads like it) are at all times wide enough for two cars AND a bike, so don't be surprised to be overtaken in places where in Britain the car would hold back. And very occasionally you'll find a car overtaking towards you, and you'll think that they haven't seen you, or reckon you only need 2ft. And lastly, you might see the advisory signs saying "Je dépasse 1.5m",  to warn drivers to give cyclists 5ft of clearance: most do, but if they pass you at 60mph, 5ft doesn't feel like very much. The advisory cycle lanes are good, as far as they go, but are prone to disappear without warning in places where you really could do with one. So, for lane usage, my advice would be to cycle in the cycle lane where there is one, and as close to the dotted white line as is safe, when there isn't a lane: I don't think French drivers have heard of 'primary position', and if they have, it's up there with philosophical debate with Satre and existentialism. Oh, and do be careful approaching roundabouts: French drivers practise their artistic skills in their vicinity.

However, all that said, I do think it's generally a safe and pleasurable road for cyclists (especially out of the peak weeks of summer); but do keep your wits about you, and look for the pleasant diversions (where they exist) if you're less confident about cycling on main roads, or find it challenging to ride in a straight line.

Me, I like the D93. Most of the time.

Thursday, 31 July 2014

A couple more cols...

A short report on a ride I didn't get round to last year, and including a col I lost my nerve on at New Year (but which George Humby braved the ice to reach): Col de Cabre (on the D93) and Col de Carabes, above Valdrôme. You'll find the route on the 'Routes' page on this blog.

In fact, I decided to do it the opposite way from the route as devised. Looking at the map, the descent east from Col de Carabes looked very sketchy (it is!), and as it turned out, it was the right call, as the descent from Col de Cabre east was superb, and with a tailwind. But that ascent (as it was) to Col de Carabes was quite stunning: you get to look back down on a good part of the crazy road once you're near the top. Thank goodness for mad French road builders of times past, and a system that manages to maintain them today.

So, an 84-mile route from home, in time for lunch at the busy little village of Serres, and lots of stops for water, making use of the many fountains along the route. That's because it's been 30C in the shade today: normal service has been resumed.

Back for an extended stay...

I've no complaints about my work in teaching - I'm lucky to have a varied 'portfolio', work with lovely pupils and colleagues, and get to do fabulous things like taking the Devon Youth Jazz Orchestra to play in the Montreux Jazz Festival (just last month). And of course, I've no complaints about the school holidays - indeed, it was one of the calculations about buying the house how many weeks a year I could use the house. This year it'll be about nine weeks, five of which I've just started: I won't see Devon for the whole of August. That's a first for me. Recharging time. That's the downside of a full teaching calendar: pretty complete exhaustion, both brain and body.

I've got friends coming for a week on August, but for now it's me, the house, and the bike. I got here by a combination of car (to Exeter airport), plane (to Charles de Gaulle airport), trains (to Die, changing at Valence), and feet (to home). About 12 hours in all, but could have shortened that by a couple of hours if I hadn't been cautious about transfer time at CdG. All very civilised, anyway, and not nearly as frazzling as driving.

Anyway, the first full day was, er, wet. (Of course it's dry and sunny in Devon.) The second day started with obligatory visit to Die's excellent market, to stock up on vegetables and plentiful and cheap soft fruit.

And after lunch, to business: the first proper ride. The Cannondale SuperSix was ready, clean and lubricated as I'd left it. Some air on the tyres, and a flat 45 miles out to Blacons and back. I know I've been way down on training miles this year, so I'm going to have to ride myself to proper fitness in the first couple of weeks.

I do have one particular ride I'd particularly like to try: a flat 100 miles along the Drôme and Rhône, and I want to see if I can do it at 20mph. I know I haven't got it in me on Devon's lumpy terrain and variable roads, and if I'm going to do it anywhere, it'll be here. At 50 maybe it's being optimistic, but I hope to give it a shot.

Just one photo for now: rain, and a rainbow over Romeyer at the end of my ride to Blacons. Very pretty, but I'd like to get back to the sunshine now please.

Sunday, 11 May 2014

From home to the Alps ... by bike!

This isn't the latest news ... but rather recounting my hugely enjoyable ride from my home in Exeter to Die back in August 2012. I thought I'd put a posting here on the blog in case anyone else is contemplating a similar trip, and might find it helpful; also, as it was a splendid adventure, and you might just find it interesting in itself.

First the context: I had already stayed near Die (the very first time for me), at the Wessons' house in St. Andéol-en-Quint in June 2012, and had an unforgettably wonderful week. Back in Devon in July, I was looking forward to a summer of cycling round the countryside in the warmth, when I realised that summer was going to bypass England yet again. Rather morbidly I started considering how many summers of fully active cycling I had left in me, and decided that I wasn't going to lose another one to the grey, cool and windy conditions England was offering. And so I decided to cycle TO the Alps. As you do.

After establishing that the Wessons would be in residence, and could put up with my presence for a few days, I sorted a route, booked my ferry crossing out, and my flight home. with a bit of creativity with bike racks and cars, I worked out that I could ride there, and catch a plane back, with my bike returning later on my bike rack, kindly carried by the Wessons & their car.

So, to cut a long story short: the route consisted of two days cycling to Portsmouth from Exeter, via Shaftesbury & the New Forest (I decided that the 130-mile route would be a heavy one to do in one day for the first day), and then five days for the planned 530 miles from St Malo to Die (with deviations it came to nearer 600 miles). The weather on the English side was grey and and a bit damp; on arriving in St Malo, the sun was out, and 25C promised. In fact, that was the coolest day, and by the time I got to Die it was 35C.

I was amused while waiting for the ferry - there must have been about twenty-or-so cyclists, all laden down with panniers anywhere they could be fixed. Nearly all of them were heading for Brittany, and when one or two asked me where I was heading, with just my saddlebag for company, there was surprise when I said 'The Alps'. But that's how I decided to do it: as light as possible, finding B&Bs along the way. So my kit consisted of: basic repair stuff (enough to get me to the next town and a bike shop, if necessary), showerproof top (not used, in the end) and arm/leg warmers, in case of chill (also not used), passport, phone, computer tablet, money, and a T-shirt and shorts, so I could wash my cycling kit each night. You'll see a photo below of the 'laden' bike.

And a summary of the ride? Absolutely wonderful. A week of solo riding as I pleased, mostly lovely roads (one or two getting down to Tours a bit on the straight, monotonous and slightly too busy side). There were just too many highlights to list them all, but a wonderful lunch in Thuret, an unbelievably relaxing and cheap B&B in Boën, and a final day of 141 miles, with 12,000ft of climbing, in 35C temperatures and with a decent tailwind, are all seared into my memory.

Firstly the French part of the route: http://ridewithgps.com/routes/1441823 - as I say, I did make some deviations from this in the second and third days, as I found some of the straight C-roads a bit monotonous and busy, but certainly the route from south of Tours was sheer delight.

Food-wise, I ended up eating café meals twice a day, and coffees morning and afternoon, which allowed me to fill up water bottles. It was warm enough that even with loads of ice in the water was warm within an hour. I also ended up calling at several houses along the way if they'd mind filling up my bottles, as I was getting through about 4-5 litres a day: no-one refused, and several were only too pleased to chat and offer encouragement too.

Cost-wise, it wasn't cheap, as everything was bought as I went, and I couldn't really shop around for places to stay: travelling alone, I didn't pre-book anything, but each place I decided to stop, the first B&B/hotel I called at had a bed, ranging in price from 55 to 25 euros. I reckon in total it cost me £100 a day ... but that was two restaurant meals a day, multiple café stops, and accommodation. Still cheaper than doing an organised tour. And it bought me unforgettable memories, that's for sure.

Blue skies on arrival in St Malo

The first morning's coffee stop

The lunchtime view in Fougères
The fully-laden bike
 

Tours Cathedral, after a lunch of rabbit stew
 

One of the many excellent calorie-replacement stops
.,, and this is where it was provided.

A refreshing view
 

The wonderful café in Thuret
Thiers

And here's me arriving at St Andéol seven days and 729 miles after leaving home. The photo was only slightly contrived...

Wednesday, 16 April 2014

Col de Rousset 1254m

The Col de Rousset is the gateway to the beautiful Vercors plateau from the south. Firstly, a map: http://ridewithgps.com/routes/4464631 - this gives the stats of the ascent as 11.3 miles long and 2849 ft of ascent (that's 18.1 km +868 m for metric folk). You'll also notice 124 ft (34m) of descent too - more of that in a moment.

I suppose this is really a quiet little promotion for the climb itself: quite apart from it being just fifteen minutes from the house, it is not only a great introduction to Alpine hills (it's about an hour up and 25 minutes down), but also extremely beautiful, with ever changing views as you ascend, but also through the seasons. For this posting, I've used photos taken in April, and the mixture of Spring light and foliage (or lack of foliage, for many of the trees) is in stark contrast to the bleakness of winter or the lushness later in the year.

The character of the climb is that it is very benign, and as long as you can keep pedalling for an hour or so at moderate effort, you will get to the top and have the reward of the breathtaking view. In the series of photos below you'll see features from the climb from just outside of Die on the D518. From the inconspicuous 'DEPART' post lurking by a large information sign, you start with a gentle climb towards and through the Forêt de Justin; before the road levels out, and indeed then makes a little descent towards the bridge just before the picturesque village of Chamaloc, and its much-photographed lavender fields. If you keep an eye on the kilometre posts, they helpfully give the elevation, distance to next notable place, and percentage gradient: the only one that does not have a percentage is the one just before Chamaloc, as it would be a negative one!

At Chamaloc the climbing recommences, and from here you have the prospect of a continuous climb to the top, round the eight hairpin bends. One of the thrills of the ascent is that, just after Chamaloc, you can see virtually the whole climb open out before you: ahead, just to the right of the apex of the valley, you can just make out the entrance to the tunnel at the col, and either side of the apex you can see the road carved out of the side of the valley, and the hairpins themselves. None of the climb is more than 10%, and much of it nearer 5%, so it does not necessarily favour the lightest riders: as long as someone can put out decent power, they can keep up with the specialist climbers, as shown by two of the Exeter Wheelers who were with me this week: despite a 15kg weight difference, there was only about 20 seconds difference in their times of slightly under 50 minutes. I was a more sedate 56'20. Taking in the views, of course.

At the top, the view is outstanding - not of Alps themselves, but the pre-Alps stretching south from the plateau: on a good day you'll see that characteristic sight of lines of outlines getting fainter the further away they are.

I returned to the climb later in the week to take these photos, and to do a video of the descent, in which I tried to give a few views out to the side, as well as staying on the bike despite the strong gusting and swirling winds.


The road to the Col de Rousset from the main road west out of Die

The easily missed 'Départ' post

One of the very helpful km markers. The distance actually is to the far end of the tunnel at the col.

The bridge after the short descent into Chamaloc
The place where you get your first proper view of the top of the ascent
And here you get the ascent laid out in front of you, winding across the valley

Hairpin No.1
Hairpin 2

Hairpin 3
View of hairpin 3

Hairpin 4

Hairpin 5
Hairpin 6
Km marker at hairpin 6
Hairpin 7
Hairpin 8 - the last one!

The well-earned view from the top.
The end of the climb
 And lastly, the rather windy descent, as far as Chamaloc.








Tuesday, 15 April 2014

Training in the Alps

A year ago was the first time I stayed in the house at Les Liotards; this year three of that original let's-furnish-the-house-with-stuff-from-Ikea party returned with four others from Exeter Wheelers to take advantage of the clement weather and mixture of stunning roads for a week-or-so-long training camp.

With ages ranging from mid-20s to, er, 50 (me), including someone who doesn't (yet) admit to liking hills, and a mixture of committed and experienced racers, less experienced racers, and one other (me again), it promised to be interesting to see how we sorted out our riding. The riders: Ellie and John (20s), Jon, Mark, Jamie and Arved (30s), and me. In fact, only two of the riders (Jamie and Ellie) didn't know the area at all, all the others having stayed here before. 

One of the pleasures of the place is its beauty - but this is also one of the challenges for real training too: can you take in and enjoy the scenery but still do some serious, structured training? Well, I suppose that since I ride for fun and don't race, I can afford not to be too scientific in my approach to training (I still enjoy riding at a reasonable level of fitness and competence, and do some time trialling with the club), but I do think that a good and sufficient mix of riding at different intensities will not do most riders any harm.

For the mix of riding, the roads round here really do the work for you: if you've read previous posts or seen the list of routes, you'll know what a good range of roads and routes there are, from nearly flat to big Alpine climbs. And if you take basic the six-day stats, with our individual totals ranging from about 200 to 375 miles, I suspect that we'll all be leaving France somewhat fitter than when we arrived, despite the prodigious amounts of food (especially cheese) that have seen consumed.

Training highlights: climbs up the Col de Rousset, Col de Grimone, Col de Menée and Col de la Chaudière, which both confirmed Jamie as a prodigious climber, followed closely by Arved (and not forgetting John's spirited chasing on Col de Rousset); Arved's dedication to cranking out the miles at an unremitting pace and eating for two; the stunning loop of Col de Grimone, Col de la Croix Haute and Col de Menée which had differing opinions on whether training should include a lunch in a roadside café or not; and a stunning day up on the Vercors plateau: properly challenging riding in quite breathtaking surroundings.

And it's all been helped by extremely pleasant weather: only one day with some rain (gone by lunchtime), and as long as you don't mind lots of sunshine and temperatures in direct sun of about 40C (and air temperatures, down in the valleys, of 20-25C), there hasn't been much to complain about. Even my first-attempt tartiflette drew no complaints.

Photos below are from the Grimone-Menée ride, and going out towards Col de la Chaudière, on a ride which split into two after the descent to Bourdeaux, both groups arriving back in Die with five minutes of each other, though one group having consumed coffee and flan as part of their training.

Routes done over the week or so include:

  • To Aouste-sur-Lye, up to Beaufort-sur-Gevanne, and back via the Col de la Croix and Col de Marignac
  • To Châtillon-en-Diois and back via the Col de Miscon
  • To the Col de Grimone and back via the Col de Menée
  • To Pont-en-Royans via Vercors, up the Gorges de la Borne, talking the short cut back at Rencurel to St Agnan-en-Vercors and back down the Col de Rousset
  • To Col de la Chaudière, and back (eastwards) by Vallée de la Roanne or (westwards) by Dieulelfit, St Bégude-le-Mazenc and Crest
  • To Valdrôme and back via Rossas and Bellegarde-en-Diois
Jon Hare nearing the Col de Grimone
L-R: me, Jon Hare and Mark Williamson at the Col de Grimone
At the start of the Col de Menée ascent, near Chichilianne
Jamie Howard ascending the amazing Gorges de la Borne
Arved Scwendel on the Vercors plateau, near St. Agnan-en-Vercors
Heading out towards the tough Col de la Chaudière

Ellie Bremer at the deserted Col de Miscon