l' Alpe d' Huez (Continued)...

Unlike other sustained climbs I’ve done before, Alpe d’Huez seemed to push on relentlessly; there were no dips nor flats anywhere I can recall. I drew further encouragement from the cycling greats whose names had been painted on the road. "Indurain…Riis…Virenque…Ullrich…Pantani…Flip & Johann…" Flip & Johann?!?! Must be wannabes like me with overenthusiastic friends and relatives. I can now understand why Alpe d’Huez holds a special place in professional racing. These switchbacks provide the perfect venue for epic duels and individual heroics. I distinctly remembered watching Andy Hampsten’s historic Alpe d’Huez win on TV a few years ago.

(Above and Below: Switchback 6 looks out into a very pretty Sarenne Gorge)

My mind started drifting and I wondered what the pros think about as they struggle up a steep climb. I wondered what it must feel like to duke it out with them…

…"But my goodness me, Paul, this unknown rider is pushing the pace on Alpe d’Huez and splitting up the peloton! Jalabert had cracked…Olano’s fallen back. Only Riis, Ullrich and Pantani have managed to stay with him…"

"That’s right, Phil. As the stage reaches its climax, I want to point out the utterly inconsequential fact that Andreu and Hincapie are 25 minutes down and are in 123^rd and 147^th place, respectively."

"And Pantani attacks! This time only the unknown rider managed to respond. It’s a two-way race now. The others are out of the picture. My goodness me."

"Phil, did I mention that Andreu and Hincapie are 25 minutes down?"

(Above and Below: The stretch between Switchbacks 5 & 4 is steep.)

So far, so good, I told myself. I saw switchback 5 coming up. It was steep, but short. The July sun started to feel oppressive—it was almost 11AM. My breathing had settled, and my legs had slightly recovered from my earlier efforts. A sharp left turn to switchback 4 was followed by a right bend that led to an uphill straightaway at the end of which the road forked. From this point, the view became more sweeping, and one can see the telepheriques and the hotels at the top of the mountain.

"I cahn’t believe it, Paul, the unknown rider had taken the wrong turn! Pantani has got the race won now, for sure. My goodness me…."

Uh, oh, I thought. Shouldn’t switchbacks 3 and 2 have appeared by now? The road I found myself on was devoid of cyclists and it dawned on me that I had taken a wrong turn. I decided to keep going. Eventually, the road curved back to the left and, 68 minutes after starting, I reached the top resort town of l’Alpe d’Huez. Where I ended up felt too quiet to be the actual finishing point, so I decided to ride around before discovering that the cyclists were congregated about a hundred feet below—where I would have ended up had I not made that darned wrong turn.

Well, there’s only one thing I can do. I rode back down to where the road forked, turned around, and went back up. It turned out that switchback 3 was just a little beyond where I detoured and the sign was even visible from there.

(Below: Switchback 3...it's not too far now...)

(Above: Switchback 2)

Switchback 2 followed after about a quarter of a mile and after that, a newly refinished, widely banked switchback (presumably number 1, although the sign was missing). This led to a steep straightaway at the top of which one can see hotels and restaurants where the climb finishes. With a couple of other riders, we tried to accelerate towards the finish although this proved more difficult even with the adrenaline rush, as the finishing stretch was longer and steeper than it seemed...

(Below: Switchback 1?)

...but soon the road flattened and, panting and gasping, we crossed under the "Arrivée" sign.

Epilogue:

Five days later, and two days after my blow-up at the col du Galibier, I decided to give Alpe d’Huez another go. Twice. Back-to-back. I found out from other riders during the course of the week that breaking 60 minutes on this climb is the objective for those who fancy themselves crack climbers. It’s like batting .300 in baseball, the de facto dividing line. One French rider I talked to had a 55-minute personal best; the Belgian guy at the hotel had done it in 56. OK, these guys shave their legs and put in such mega mileage that their odometers had more crooked figures than a Martin Scorsese movie. Realistically, I had little hope of approaching 60 given my current mileage base, but I thought it would be fun to try anyway. The first attempt started promisingly enough; I rode aggressively from the get go, but died at around switchback 6 and finished in 63 minutes. So I went back down, and tried again (well, it was my last day and I wanted to get more riding in): 67 minutes. Could I have done better under ideal personal conditions? Perhaps, but those times were the best I could have hoped for at the time, so they were good enough for me.

The one aspect of climbing Alpe d’Huez that is not much written about is the descent: it is a blast, especially on a summer’s day when warm air smacks your face on your way down. My first descent was on an early Sunday afternoon, and there was not much traffic. It was so quiet that the only sound I heard was the satisfying buzz of my Campy sprockets as I zigged and zagged my way down. Many of the switchbacks are too tight to be taken at full speed, but they’re still a lot of fun to descend!

"OK, Was It Good for You, Too?"

I'm sure many cyclists have wondered how the Alpine climbs compare with their favorite local hills and passes. Alpe d'Huez is especially subject to much theoretical comparison given its showcase status in the Tour de France. Keeping in mind that there's a big difference between the speed with which the pros race up this road and my weekend-warrior pace, I would say that many of the climbs, especially Alpe d'Huez, would fall under the category of "difficult, but not overly so," especially if broken up into separate rides. Alpe d'Huez felt like a cross between the switchbacks of Mt. Diablo (11 miles, around 5%) and the gradients of, say, Trinity Grade in Santa Rosa (short but steep) or Tunitas Creek in San Mateo. The total effort required would be comparable to that of climbing an Ebbet's Pass in Markleeville. The long climbs that are part of the Terrible Two double century (Santa Rosa Cycling Club) are actually much harder than Alpe d'Huez: the climb up the Geysers and the climb up Skaggs Springs that immediately follows it. The roads down around San Mateo, Santa Cruz and Palo Alto are generally much steeper, although they tend to be no more than 2-4 miles long. Mt. Hamilton in San Jose would have been a good comparison except for the flat section in the middle. Actually, a good approximation would be the passes of the Markleeville Death Ride--in terms of length, gradient and scenery. Another one that comes to mind is Mt. Rose near Lake Tahoe (as I remember it).

Below: The arresting view from the summit of l'Alpe d' Huez