Cormet de Roseland

I'm now back in Malaysia, I've updated my Alpe d'Huez write-up with a few photos and some post-race reflections and before I get onto the important task of writing about the non-sporting side of our holiday, including catching up with my Sister and her family and my Parents and not forgetting the copious amounts of photos to update, particularly those of the gorgeous Sid and Seb, I thought I'd mention the ride I did with Sam the day before we left. It was to the last climb in the Alps of this year's Tour de France - the Cormet de Roseland.

It was a particularly chilly 15 degrees when we set out (don't laugh if you live anywhere colder than Malaysia, it was cold for me). A quick downhill "warm-up" to Bourg Ste Maurice and then turn right at the roundabout by the tourist office and start your stopwatch for the time trial to the top.

The first few K are agonisingly slow especially when you first see signs saying 19k to the top. Oh well, I'd sought of got the mindset of the Alps now and that was not to rush it, work hard as hell by all means but standing up powering little sections of it was a waste of time, energy and mental resolve. Just sit down and grind those legs around at a pace that you felt the heart could possibly sustain (and hopefully be enough to avoid Sam cruising past me).

It's amazing in the Alps how after only three or four lung bursting switchbacks you look over the side of the mountain and see where you've just come from way, way below you. It's almost an optical and physical illusion, a nice one I must say because without exception it is almost incomprehensible how high you have climbed so quickly. Mind you, if you could also put into perspective how must higher you still have to go to the top I suspect you'd just get off, toss the bike over the side of the mountain and flag the next car down.

So the climb continued, the view closed in and we were climbing through thick forest, the gradient didn't relent and there were stages were the road seemed straight for many hundreds of metres. I may have found this fact demoralising had my gaze not been firmly fixed on the road somewhere under my handlebars and had I not been distracted by the searing pain in my lungs, not to mention the thought that Sam was just a few metres behind me ready to pounce.

Eventually, after what I think was about 8 or 9k from the start the switchbacks started again, relentless, one after another. At this point however I started passing other riders and as I went round each switchback I could see that Sam wasn't quite as close as I'd been imaging - the pressure was off a smidgen although I was still barely halfway up.

At around 14k we broke out of the forest and into what my "O"-Level geography tells me was a "Hanging Valley" made by a glacier that had long since retreated. The gradient was comparatively gentle now and I really started give it some welly. A couple of K later and we were back into the steep stuff again but now in the open exposed mountain terrain around and above the tree line. My feet were like blocks of ice, I'd long since stopped feeling them but I was almost there. Sam's PB up here was about 1:20 something, I crossed the line at the top in a very gratifying 1:16:29. With Sam coming in very close behind in sub 1:20.

As you can see, the requisite photos were taken but as it was pretty exposed up there and we were getting colder by the minute we shot back shortly afterwards. The arm warmers that Sid and Seb had bought me for Father's Day were greatly appreciated as well as the gillet that Sam had suggested I put in my back pocket, I eagerly pulled it on for the descent.

Once again Sam, this was an amazing ride, thank you so much for your hospitality and for these amazing experiences. Truly breathtaking in more ways than one but whichever way you take it, worth every ounce of effort - AMAZING. I will be back.