Tour of Alps - Part 1

Every trip, every tour, every adventure starts with a dream. Those dreams transform into daring ideas. And dreams and ideas have a tendency to persist, to slowly work their way into becoming a plan. This dream started when I returned from my very first trip to the Alps in 2021, where I got but a small taste of what’s it like to cycle the big mountains. I got hooked instantly and I wanted more… Way more. I started drawing routes. One-day trips. Big days in the saddle. But not having a car and not being comfortable with driving at all meant that deep down, I knew these plans were probably not achievable. I remember shyly drawing out my first route from Bergamo to Stelvio, before immediately scratching it. The idea of riding Alpine cols with luggage felt ludicrous at best. But year after year the dream returned, with each dream being stronger than before, each route being slower to scratch. And one cold winter day I realized I really, really need to get back. I felt Alps calling me, and I just said... Fuck it, we ball.

The dream was simple! Ride all the Tour de France ‘bangers’ that could be logically tied together into one route. The original plan was put together rather quickly, perhaps due to my practice in planning rides. But this time I didn’t scratch. Instead, I procrastinated with everything other than the route until the last possible moment. It was like I was subconsciously afraid of pulling the trigger. I knew it was going to be hard. Very hard. 700km. 19 000m elevation gain. With luggage. It was big, and bold. Not mentioning the logistics of flying with a bike. So I did, what I do best. I’ve created an alternative route. 800km and 20 000m climbing. Not exactly an easier one, but with a few caveats. Yes, it was further and with more elevation, but the climbs got progressively smaller towards the end of the trip. With the added benefit of improved train access. No flying with a bike! I was super excited. I’ve planned the whole trip, split it into days, found the preferred and "emergency" campsites, researched food options and… waited…

I’ve waited for so long, that roughly month before my scheduled departure I dived into buying train tickets in full panic mode. I’ve hit the web page, only to find out that the trains I picked don’t have a bike car. I was left with options of either spending the whole night at the station in Vienna (both ways!) or pay twice as much and have a layover of only 6 hours. (AGAIN, both ways!). Dejectedly, I decided to check the flight fares. “No way they’re gonna be affordable that close to the date, just no fucking way”. But, to my surprise, they were less than expected. I rapidly entered my card details and a ‘successful booking email’ came. I rushed back to the ‘drawing board’, pulled up a long-forgotten draft of the French route, and started splitting it into a well-paced 7 days of riding. "But I’m going there for 18 days!" The plan quickly started to evolve, letting my imagination take the lead. Indulging my FOMO, nothing was getting scratched. After few days, and endless hours spent in front of a screen, looking at the map, Google Earth, and reading about roads I could hardly pronounce I ended fully satisfied with how the plan looked. I felt no desire to add anything more. Planned statistics did however look a bit frightening. 1,100km and 27,000m of elevation. Nothing short of massive!

I’m not going to bore you with the nitty-gritty of trip preparations, but I meticulously planned my sleeping arrangements; ensured I was able to leave my bike case at the hotel for the duration of my ride. And, before packing, scrutinized every item of my on-bike luggage for weight, totalling at a not insignificant 10kg of luggage.

Prologue

The travel to Italy was exhausting. Plane landed as planned, just in time for me to miss the last train to the city. That meant spending the night at the airport. With a flashy-green bike case and a heavy backpack I found a bench in a corner of the arrival area. Sadly, as I’m not the strongest of sleepers, I wasn’t able to doze off even for a bit. So I waited, killing the time with browsing socials. Finally, the time had come to get the first train the following day. Only thing that was left was a lengthy walk with a bike case (that didn’t want to ride straight!) from train station to the hotel. I managed to get a VERY early check-in (7am). I showered, assembled the bike and repacked the bags. Trying to get some sleep wasn’t that easy, though, body being fully awaken from forcing case to roll straight over uneven Torinese pavements.

This early check in, trouble-free assembly and not a lot of errands to run left me with some time to kill before the Grand Depart next day. What better way to do so then a small ride?

The hills east of Turin proved to be a really fun place to stretch the legs for an unplanned warmup. I am highly envious of Torinese cyclists. 7km climb starting just outside of the city center? Yes, please! I rode only a couple of roads closest to the city, but these were like younger, smaller cousins of the big ascents ahead of me. Just a small taste of fierce climbs coming in the next days.

Stage 1 – Torino to Borgata Sestriere

And oh boy, they came! But before they did, I had to get out of the city. Having hotel in the very center of the city, inspired by Mamba on Bike, I decided to set off from where Torino-Nice gravel race starts. Quick coffee at Piazza Bodoni, and I could start my ride towards Rivoli. This proved to be quite unpleasant part of the day. Despite Turin being beautiful, the experience of cycling it I remember as pretty… haphazard. Bike lanes leading to nowhere, wave of red lights, drivers honking at everyone virtually all the time… daunting to say the least. I’ve happily left the city to indulge myself in an adventure. Track took me through Val di Susa, showing a couple of small, picturesque towns, quiet bike paths and short stretches of main road. Alpine giants loomed in the distance, growing bigger and closer with every mile travelled. Soon enough it was time for the main course of the day.

The idea to ride Colle delle Finestre on a road bike, with luggage, was peculiar to say at least. In reality, it was something between daring and crazy. 18 km of uphill at 9.3% average gradient, with top 8 km being on coarse gravel. I’ve heard people saying it’s not an easy feat even on a “big tire” gravel bike. I was riding 25c slicks with 1:1 gearing. Not even close to gravel. But being there and not trying… I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t. Pro cyclists rode it during Giro’d Italia, after all.

The climb starts with a bang, and its 2nd km is featuring the steepest bits. But it’s not the maximal gradient that’s tricky here. It is relentlessness. After the first wall gives a bit, it’s 9-11% all the way to the top.

You just wait for the switchbacks in the forest, for once to give you some moments to breath on the outside line, and to borrow some shade. Sun, while better than rain, is merciless. You open jersey very quickly, all the way, so it flaps around with every breeze, with every moment of riding out of the saddle, but sweat still drips from every part of you body. Here and there road leads by the cliff, so views are opening between the trees. Then BANG! Leg burn is so great that you decide to stop, take a little bit of rest. You’re not racing anyone but your own ego. You know it’s only first day, and you can’t burn all the matches on the first climb…

Fortunately, after around 10km there is a water fountain. I stopped for a minute, refilled my bottles and rode on. And this was the place where trouble began. This is where a small gate welcomes you to “Strada del Colle delle Finestre”, tarmac disappears and coarse gravel takes over. And let me tell you, it is not a smooth white road we’re used to around urban areas. It’s rough. The higher the road goes, the more brake bumps aka washboards appear. On the outsides of hairpins there is a deep sand. Going up is an act of balancing. Keeping both wheels equally loaded to prevent them from spinning. Act of a line choice, not to get stuck in the sand, and trying to avoid exhausting bumps. But the scenery is just stunning. With every meter of road travelled, with every meter of elevation gain, with every minute of struggle the wider landscape opens, making it worth the pain. For the most part of the gravel segment I was thinking that "this is a marvelous place to die". It took me almost hour and a half to tackle it, with average cadence as low as 54rpm. True massacre for the legs.

But the top… oh, the top… The iconic pictures of gravel switchbacks from the pass seen with your own eyes, the magnificent view to the other side, and applause of people who had already finished makes it all worthwhile. I sat there, resting, and pondered the Giro history that happened here, on this gravel slopes. I thought about other adventurers, known and unknown, who took the road. About ones who inspired me to challenge it. And I was glad, and thankful, that all these conversations, vlogs and posts lead me there. After couple whiles the weather started to get a bit too gloomy to my liking – clouds started to fill the valleys. That was my cue to speed down in search of dinner and a place to sleep.

Stage 2 – Borgata Sestriere to Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis

Sleeping on a camping deep in the valley, below main road, has couple of perks. One of them is quiet, peaceful night, away from rushing cars. The other one – first thing in the morning you’ve got to get out of it. A short, steep ramp leads me back to main road, and quickly after I get to Sestriere. From here it’s downhill all the way back to Susa.

I’m slowly regaining confidence I lost in a spring crash. Initially it didn’t feel like I was affected in any way other than couple of bruises and a small back contusion, but with more and more rides I started realizing I’m backing off ever so slightly. Braking a notch earlier than I would before. Cornering slower and less aggressively, by a hair, but noticeably.

Downhill to Cesana Torinese led through main road. This means wide lanes, surface kept in pretty good condition, shallow turns, guard rails. 10 km of easy descend in safe environment. Here and there I take a small, very brief peek at breathtaking landscape. The longer I ride the more relaxed I get. Turns get smoother. I still brake way too early, and corner slow, but I know it will come back. I still have more than 10 days of riding in front of me. I ride past Ceasana, through Oulux and to Susa. Stopping briefly in the café, I’m ordering cappuccino and ice cream. Being in Italy and not eating gelato would be a crime. Before I leave I’m asking barista to top up my bottles. They don’t speak English and our short “chat” results in almost half liter of electrolytes going down the drain…

When planning the initial route, I decided to take the road through Susa as a fastest way to get from Turin to the cols I was most interested in. But while refining details I noticed a small, local track going through tiny village of Moncenisio. I scouted it via Street View and decided it will be more picturesque and fun than riding along busy main road. It was indeed marvelous. Narrow, local pavement led initially through the bottom of the valley, then started rising, passing the stream multiple times, each one opening up wide landscapes. It was getting pretty hot, and even though I like riding in heat, I was wary of the amount of water I had. Soon enough the road steepened and I’ve entered a section of switchbacks. Grinding away, one crank revolution after another, I battled gradients, heat and poor surface, winding from left to the right edge of tarmac, riding “a way of the snake”. GPS unit seemed to rarely show gradients below 10%, hitting up to 15 or 17. Even though most of the road was hidden in a shade of a thicket, the temperature got to 38 celsius. In that moment I was heavily cursing that sadistic bitch who plotted the route, knowing that I’ll be climbing that with additional 10kg of ballast… Oh wait, that was all me!

Since beginning of a steep section I’ve slowly started to look around in search of any water source. Somewhere above last switchback I’ve drank last drops of water I had. “Well, I’m fucked”. There was absolutely no stream, no source near the road, and I wasn’t particularly happy about the idea of taking water from a bigger waterfall. I don't really trust bigger water sources, and even ifI did, it would mean descending around 350m of elevation, and then climbing it back. “I’m gonna stop every passing car and ask for help if I’ll need!”. I wasn’t yet that desperate, though with the heat my position was not the best possible. I knew there was a village at the top of this part of the climb, so I gathered I could ask someone to fill my bottles, but I didn’t know, how far it was. I was focused on riding.

Happily, I saw the first buildings soon enough. But I didn’t even reach them when I saw it! A water tap, and a bench, under a tree! I was saved! I drank almost half liter at the spot, sat for a while to cool down and to let the surroundings sink in. I was happy. Genuinely happy with the hill I’ve just climbed, with the vibe of the place I found myself in, and with the fact that I found a water fountain.

Later that day, after passing French border and making my way to the top of very pretty, but not that difficult climb to the upper valley, I rode along the landmark of the day. The turquoise waters of Lac Du-Mont-Cenis seemed magical and mesmerizing, despite being surrounded by enormous number of cars and motorcycles. Riding slowly, I enjoyed the view, but soon it was time for a descend. Descend that will be another small step towards regaining confidence in my abilities.

Previous night was not a very restful one. I woke up in the middle of the night only to realize that my mattress is leaking air. There fortunately was a hiking shop down in the village of Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis. I bought a new one, even smaller and lighter than the one I had, and started to look for any food option. Sadly, my hope of getting a hot, nutritious meal went down the drain quicker than I could imagine. Like in Italy, every single restaurant opens at 7pm. “Supermarket food it is”. Later that evening I visited a campsite restaurant to get a burger, because one pack of beef ravioli wouldn’t make up over 2000 kcal I’ve just burned…

Stage 3 – Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis to Courmayeur

The morning was quite chilly. I packed quickly and set off towards the boulangerie. My first of many breakfasts consisting of croissants and pain-au-chocolates. Paired with lousy coffee, I counted on butter, sugar and chocolate to give me power. First minutes of the day’s route were a thermal adjustment. 14 Celsius is not a temperature I enjoy much, especially after sunbathing in 38 the day before. However, weighing all the options, I expected to be comfortable in short sleeve, knowing I was going to spend probably over 2 next hours going uphill.

And I was not mistaken. As soon as road pointed upwards and I got out of the village towards mist covered mountains, any remnants of feeling cold gave space to comfortable sensation of being cooled while climbing. I didn’t feel particularly strong. As the road steepened for a short bit, climbing the next level of the valley, I was alternating between sitting and standing, with saddle bag very gently swinging sideways with every pedal stroke taken out of the saddle. It's very slight motion is a perk of good packing. Anything suboptimal, and it would uncomfortably sway, throwing the bike out of balance.

Soon the step ended, road became flat, and all I was left with was a chill air and view slowly opening towards high mountains. Engulfing high part of the Maurienne valley, they were still partially covered with a morning mist. I rolled slowly, saving energy, but most importantly, bathing in the quietness of the space around me, taking in the magnificent landscape with every part of me. Enjoying every second of me being there.

After some time I passed the village of Bonneval-sur-Arc, and, getting passed by Jumbo-Lease A Bike team car, started my climb towards the second highest point of my trip – Col de l’Iseran (2764m). It is not a difficult climb by both Alpine, and my standards. However, having 2 excruciatingly steep killer hills on the previous days I felt fatigue creeping up. Not looking at power data too often, I counted down kilometer after kilometer, spinning gently, and slowly making my way up. The higher I climbed, the more magical the view was getting, opening wider landscape. I could see the depth of the valley, both up and down of the village. I could see the highest peaks of surrounding mountain ranges, hugging remnants of glaciers in the top parts. A true feat for the eyes.

Soon, the road turned into the hanging valley, showing yet another magnificent scenery. It was a flat part, allowing for a short, but welcome rest. After about 1km of tarmac pointing slightly downhill the road turned yet again and I found myself starting to struggle for real. My cadence dropped, legs started to burn, and I really fought for every meter of road ahead of me. I spotted a couple in front of me, and despite them riding light, I focused on them. Locked in, I was eyeballing their position against mine every couple of minutes. “As long as they don’t ride away, I’m golden”. That, mixed with my brain internally singing random stuff, and admiring the views, kept me going through the 2nd uphill bit. Then, the road flattened again. Said couple disappeared in the distance when I used the easy part to stand up couple of times and stretch a bit, shaving off any speed I had in the system.

At this point, my back had already started to complain about the level of exertion I’ve thrown at it. It slowed me down even more, because now every moment I had any momentum, I used it to straighten and relax my body. Not only that. I was entering the highest part of the climb, elevated to above 2500 meters, and started feeling lower amount of oxygen in the air. That last part was also the steepest one, which make my power and cadence plummet even more. I was spinning at uncomfortably low 60 rpm, crying internally. My legs wanted to explode. But road markings at the side of the road were unmoved, declaring gradients of over 10%. With the last spurts of energy, I managed to wave towards photographer shouting “Courage!”, majestically rolled over the edge of the pass, pulled over to the side of the road and sank onto my bars, gasping for breath.

Despite all the issues, this was really the first big climb of this ride that I did in “my” style – without putting leg down, in one go. One of very few. These are the results of riding heavy. I sped down to Val d’Isere, starting to feel comfortable enough to enjoy views here and there, passing couple of cars in the hairpins. I felt good. Happy.

The town was full of people, but I managed to find a free table in a promising looking café to wash away the memory of a horrible morning drink. I sat down and started pondering on my next move. It was only 3rd day of riding. If I was already struggling THAT much on a not particularly difficult climb, should I skip the extended route and just ride down towards Col de la Madeleine to conserve energy? Or should I just go with it and enjoy the ride, suffering, knowing that days are long, and I don’t really have any dangerous time constraints?

With these thoughts I finished my croissant and coffee, and rode down towards the Tignes dam, and further down the valley. Descend was so fast, flowy and smooth that I’ve almost missed my turn. I usually look at my head unit often, scanning the map and assessing how fast can I take the curve. But this road was so smooth that I was just enjoying speed and its comfort, not really paying attention to my GPS. In the last moment I braked hard and turned right, uphill towards La Rosière.

La Rosière is a town somewhere in the middle of the road to Col du Petit Sant Bernard. The ski resort hosted a stage finish in 2018 Tour, and to make the event stick in memory of fans for longer, they decided to paint the last steep part of the ascend pink. I slowly started riding towards it. The “pink road” ends intersecting with main road, so I figured I can ride the bottom of the climb and bail just above Montvalezan. I quickly got into rhythm. The road has seen its better days, but with not a lot of traffic, I was comfortably gaining elevation. Soon, I powered through the steep, painted segment and remembering climb profile decided to turn right, towards the border with Italy.

And then, after descending to the Aosta valley, I’ve seen it. The Mont Blanc massif, even from afar, looks nothing like any other mountain I saw before. It’s gargantuan, spectacular, breathtaking. It rises right in front of you, taking almost all space, making you feel small and irrelevant. It’s not only a view. It's an experience. And I knew I would be sleeping in the shade of its smaller brothers, Grandes Jorasses. But before that could happen, I had to get to the campsite. After I restocked my food for the day, I turned towards the Val Ferret. With already 2800 meters of elevation gain I faced another 300. Little did I know how steep will they be. 3km averaging around 9% after a hard day made me cry, shout and curse myself for my route planning, Italians for their steep roads and water I had in the tiny backpack for being so heavy. The only thing that was still pushing me forward was the thought of having a rest the following day...

To be continued...

Strava - Prologue - Colle della Maddalena, Collina di Superga
Strava - Stage 1 - Val di Susa, Colle delle Finestre
Strava - Stage 2 - Sestriere, Moncenisio, Col du Mont-Cenis
Strava - Stage 3 - Col du l'Iseran, La Rosière, Col du Petit-Saint-Bernard, Courmayeur