La Route des Grandes Alpes

It's the somewhat crazy-but-not-insurmountable-dream of crossing the Alps by bike, from Lake Geneva Switzerland to the Mediterranean. It's called the Route des Grandes Alpes.

Totalling just under 700km, the route includes over 16,000m of cumulative elevation gain, passing over 16 major Alpine passes, many over 2000m in altitude.

Step one was equipping my road bike with saddle bags: one on the handlebars, two on the frame, and a small one under the saddle: basically just one change of clothes for the evening, tools for repair, sandals, and a map. Less than 5kg.
And an even more important step: equipping the bike the with a 11-34 cassette on the back, giving me enough gears to tackle all the climbing with all the weight -- not to mention my own.


Day 1: Thonon les Bains to Cluses -- July 5th

At 6am I leave the comforts of my home by bike, and cycle to Avignon's central train station. Only 13km would have me sweating through my t-shirt in the blistering heat, even as the sun was beginning to rise. 

At least the trains are air-conditioned. I'd spend the morning travelling from Avignon to Thonon les Bains.

Three trains and six hours later I reach Thonon les Bains, on the south side of Lake Geneva: a ritzy lakeside town buzzing with summer travellers.

And I take a mandatory pose in the Lake itself: the official starting point of my 9-day journey.

Whether it's the sweltering afternoon heat, a road heavy with traffic, or a rather un-scenic and long false-flat incline along the Dranse Gorge, this very first leg of the journey would prove laborious. But it's a necessary evil to reach higher ground and mountain scenery.

The first Route des Grandes Alpes sign along the way, more than 10km out of Thonon-les-Bains.

After 30km the fun begins, climbing a little more steeply towards the very first of the 16 passes:

Le Col des Gets.

With snow-capped mountains now as a backdrop I descend into the town of Taninges.

Another short climb is required out of Taninges before descending to the village of Cluses, nestled in a glacier valley.

I check into the first hotel I find, set in the heart of the village, and earn my first -- of several -- pizzas. 


Day 2: Cluses to La Giettaz

Departing Cluses, even the roundabouts sing their odes to cyclists. 

The valley is industrial, and the climb to La Colombière begins immediately, first very gradually, and then a rather steep and exposed portion where I battle the summer heat, even early in the morning.

A second portion is more gradual, enters the forest, and offers respite from the heat.

Halfway up the climb is the mountain village of Le Reposoir, and the village carries its name well: the climb becomes very gentle here, and I (and a group of other cyclists) stop to fill our water bottles at the local fountain. From here the climb enters the heart of the Alpine meadows, and the cool higher-altitude air makes the climbing more comfortable. 

The last km is set at 11% grade, and I ride it with a completely deflated rear tire, not wanting to lose my momentum as I approach the pass. I should have repaired it immediately. This would be one of two punctures over the course of my journey.

Made it!

The one thing better than a blueberry tart with a coke, is having ridden up a mountain pass and enjoying a blueberry tart with a coke...

At the pass I repair the flat, needing a pair of tweezers from the restaurant to remove a part of a staple from my rear tire: the culprit. I have a nice chat with a group of cyclists at the restaurant, and this would be one of many great conversations I'd have with locals and fellow cyclists. Being a solo traveller has its advantages.

A well-earned descent through the Alpine pastures ensues...

The next pass on the day's program is Les Aravis. Mistakenly listed on my map as the steepest of all the climbs I'd do, it was actually the easiest: a pleasant surprise, with slopes of only 4-5% incline.

nearing the summit...

Col des Aravis! From here the views extend across the Aravis mountains and to Mont Blanc: but not today, with cloud cover.

At the Col des Aravis...

A winding and beautiful descent on the southern slopes of the pass lead to the mountain village of La Giettaz, where I spend my second night.

La Giettaz...



Day 3: Cluses to Séez 

Just before take-off in the village of La Giettaz...

  I continue the exhilarating downhill to the village of Flumet..

 From Flumet the road climbs steeply in zigzags...

And then the gradient becomes less severe as the road heads into the forest.

Above the trees the road climbs into the Alpine pastures, and I embark on a short descent - the dreaded down-to-go-back-up, before the final stretch.

Almost there...

The Col des Saisies pass is situated in the ski-resort village that carries the same name.

The skies in the valley below look ominous, but I wouldn't get hit by the storm. 

 The descent to the mountain village of Beaufort is spectacularly green, and probably why the local cheese is so good...

In Beaufort I carb-up on the usual.

The first few kilometers of the Cormet de Roselend pass are through the forest, hot in the midday sun, and rather steep.

 I need to take a break halfway through, cut short by ravenous horseflies...

Like most of the passes, the best is yet to come. With 8km left to climb I reach a small pass above the Lac de Roselend, where the Alpine scenery returns.

Nearing the top of the Cormet de Roselend pass, one of the most spectacular of the Alps...

A welcome cheese and sausage stand is located at the summit, where I indulge in a well-earned sandwich...

my steed at the summit...

I race downhill in sharp hairpin turns, and the descent becomes less steep as I reach the Chapieux Valley below. 

The quaint village of Séez would be my resting place for the night, just a few kilometers beyond Bourg Saint Maurice.

Enjoying my stay at the Hotel Malgovert in Séez...  

Day 4: Séez to Aussois 

The Col de l'Iseran pass is the highest in France and in all of Europe, at close to 2800m. It was the very last section of the road completed in the 1930s to finish the Route des Grandes Alpes.  
From Séez there are 44km to the summit. The first section isn't scenic and is shared -- on this Monday morning -- with dozens of huge trucks making their way to the Tignes Barrage.  Not fun. 

Just before reaching the ritzy ski resort of Val d'Isère the road forks: while all the heavy traffic continues to Tignes, I take a series of not-so-greatly-lit tunnels towards Val d'Isère, where at least I get a few kilometers of respite from the climbing.

One of the many tunnels before reaching Val d'Isère...

After a coffee in the quiet ski resort (it's summer after all ), I manage to start climbing the WRONG VALLEY for at least a kilometer and a half. My suspicions lead me to check my GPS position and then turn back around, smiling at my stupidity, but no worse for wear.

Above Val d'Isère the road begins to climb gradually beside the Isère river. I get passed by a young and thin rider going well over 20km/h. With three days already under my belt, harsh bruising below my belt, and my belongings strapped to my bike, I'm slower than virtually every cyclist on the road. I'd see few travellers like myself with bike bags, and take the time to chat with those who do.

After 5km along the river, a hairpin right turn over a bridge leads to the heavy-duty climbing, leaving the course of the Isère river below.

Great views of Val d'Isère, framed by the mountain slopes as I climb.

Of the few travellers carrying their own bags, I befriend a German father-son tandem team, who I'd meet up with several days in a row.

Despite being in early July, there are still considerable snow patches up in altitude. I feel the lack of oxygen, and breathing becomes laboured.

Nearing the summit the Alpine meadows give way to bare rock, surrounded by serrated mountain peaks.

At the Col de l'Iseran it's around 13°C. I have a coffee at the refuge and shelter myself from the wind on the south side of the building. Reclining on a lounge chair, I contemplate the mountains.

The descent on the south face of Iséran takes me amid the mountains of the National Park of La Vanoise. A marmot crosses the road right in front of me, but my pace was already slowed to gawk at the scenery. Out of all the majestic green pastures and snow-capped mountains I'd see over the nine days, these green pastures and snow-capped mountains would prove to be the most majestic of all.   

The steep part of the descent finishes in the mountain village of Bonneval-sur-Arc. A storybook picture is painted with old stone homes and shale rooftops, with the Vanoise mountains as the backdrop. I spend time in the village having lunch, in awe, meandering through the streets, and deciding whether or not to spend the night. I don't: there's still more ground to cover today.

The day's challenges -- unbeknownst to me -- aren't over. From Bonneval-sur-Arc the decline is slight and the afternoon wind is rushing up the valley, square in my face. I'm forced to pedal. There's a 100m+ climb to a small pass, and then the really bad news appears in the valley: two road deviations force me off-course, and UP!!   

The 2nd of those deviations is the toughest, up +300m of elevation on steep roads to the village of Aussois: happy to be in a pretty mountain village, but my legs have had enough. Altogether I cycle 100km and over 2600m+ of elevation, which on paper would be my toughest day...

My home for the night. This was the third of three accommodations in town where I ask for availability, and lucky enough they have a room. It would be the only time I didn't find a room in the first hotel I entered.    

Day 5: Aussois to Le Monetier les Bains 

What goes up must come down.

From Aussois I'm treated to a 8km freewheeling downhill to the industrial village of Modane.

More possible bad news in the valley: a rock slide on the main road from Modane to St Michel-de-Maurienne has the traffic deviated UP to a mountain village. Luckily, a group of French riders -- doing the same journey as me but unsupported -- ride through the barrier and I follow them. After hopping over the rock slide in question, we're treated to about 10km of freewheeling downhill on the main road without cars. A light rain begins to fall.

I Reach St. Michel-de-Maurienne, where the climb of the Télégraphe begins.

I've cycled up Galibier before, but never the Télégraphe first. I'm pleasantly surprised. The climb is steep but the pitch always stays at 7-8%. The road is well paved, and the cloud cover and spitting rain keep me from overheating in lower altitudes. I meet up with the German tandem team once again.

Nearing the top of the Télégraphe, I turn around to get a great view of the village of Saint Michel-de-Maurienne, where I started the climb.

I chat with a group of German motorcyclists at the pass, who have started their journey from the Black Forest. One of them snaps this picture.

A short descent from the Télégraphe leads to the mountain village/ski resort of Valloire.

Famished in Valloire, deli meats seem a good idea at the time. I'd regret the decision a few kilometers farther.

Beyond Valloire the climb of the Galibier begins. Newly paved roads signal the arrival of the Tour de France in two weeks' time. A long straightaway ensues up the Valloirette Valley. The river gives the illusion of a relatively easy climb, but the slope hovers at 6-7%.

That straightaway ends at Plan Lachat, where a conveniently located restaurant lures me in for a coke.

A photographer snaps this picture above the restaurant, where the road steepens and the hairpin turns resume.

The final kilometer is the toughest. The first half of it climbs steeply and I'm forced to climb en danceuse: a position I rarely choose. Especially after climbing for 40km.

It starts raining as I reach the summit and so I don't stay long. We stayed longer at the top in 2013 when I first cycled up Galibier (picture above).

A stunning but rain-filled descent towards the Col du Lautaret below.

I tuck into a snack bar at the outset of the descent, let the heavy rains pass, and buy an unnecessary cycling jersey.

My hands are numb and cold as I reach the Col du Lautaret. From here the usual views of the Ecrins glaciers are hidden by the clouds.

I stay at the Col du Lautaret for three hours, waiting for the rains to stop. I seek shelter in a restaurant to have a sandwich and the usual blueberry tart, and watch the end of the Tour de France stage on television.

Getting antsy I resume cycling in the rain anyhow, and begin a long descent. Cold at first, the lower altitudes bring some needed heat, and the rain eventually stops.

I reach the village of Le-Monetier-les-Bains and check into a hotel, even though I initially planned to continue farther to Briançon. I'm wet, and I've had enough. And the pizza is fantastic!

Day 6: Le Monetier les Bains to Vars Sainte Marie

From Le Monetier les Bains a downhill leads to the town of Briançon, foot of the climb of the Izoard.

The first 1.5km are very steep, leading out of Briançon.

The next section is easier, leading to the Alpine village of Cervières. The day's heat is getting to me.

I've cycled up Izoard before, and from the same side. I didn't find it particularly tough last time but here I struggle. It may be the heat, the 6th day on the bike, my burning backside.  Tight hairpin turns lead upwards. And while the switchbacks toward the north offer gradual slopes to recover, the switchbacks heading south seem vertical.  I reach the top, and enjoy the tremendous views.

I begin my descent...

This southern slope is known as the "casse déserte", and includes a short section back upwards (and it hurts!) before the roaring downhill...

I stop in the town of Arvieux in the Queyras mountains to have lunch.

And to repair a flat.

On the way to Guillestre in the Queyras.

I bypass the village of Guillestre to begin the climb of the Col de Vars. Heading farther and farther south, the afternoon sun takes its toll, and I overheat. I find refuge under the shade of isolated trees as I climb, and stop to let the engine cool. Climbing two passes per day, the second one would almost always be in the afternoon, in the hottest part of the day. In the northern sections, on the high passes, the heat wasn't a concern. But heading towards the Mediterranean the sun begins to sting.     

I reach the first of three ski resorts in Vars, some 10km from the summit, only to find no hotels open. F#$%.  I continue climbing an extra 3km and reach the small, intimate, and casual ski station of Vars Sainte Marie. I'm spent. I'm not continuing over a 2nd pass today. A first hotel is closed and I begin to imagine knocking on strangers' doors to find a bed. 

The Lièvre Blanc has room, possibly the friendliest and warmest welcome I've ever received. Madame washes my clothes and folds them, and Monsieur cooks the best dinner I'd have all week: Portuguese red bean soup, lamb chops, and pecan pie. My room is cozy. My strength and spirits return.  




Day 7: Vars Sainte Marie to Guillaumes

 Feeling much better, the climbing seems much easier this morning, up in altitude. Only 8km to reach the summit.

 The final stretch is less steep, through the Alpine pastures, leading to the Col de Vars. It's quiet, no fanfares of gift shops, no hordes of cyclists. From here to the Mediterranean the roads will prove to be far less frequented by cyclists and motorists alike.

Here's the last picture I snap with my phone, at the outset of the descent. Nearing a tunnel after 10km I reach for my phone but it's not there. Panic. I decide not to turn back: finishing this journey is more important than a phone I can replace. I accost the first cyclist heading back up the slope. David from England. He'd find the phone less than a kilometer farther, in the middle of the road. No damage. He'd kindly drop the phone off in Briançon's tourism office, and it was mailed back to me. And so I salvage my pictures. And my phone.   

The descent leads into the very picturesque village of Barcelonnette, where I stop for a break. 

The climb towards the Col de la Cayolle begins on a narrow and remote road, along the Gorges du Bachelard canyon. The climb is long but very gradual, and the day's cloud cover makes the afternoon cycling tolerable.  No another cyclists in sight.

I stop in the tiny village of Fours Saint Laurent for a drink.

At 1800m the road heads over the Bachelard river and begins to climb in steep hairpin turns above the river.

The Alpine pastures return in the final stretch to the pass.

I'd lay down in the Alpine grasses for quite some time at the Col de la Cayolle pass, a popular departure point for hiking in the local mountains.  

Along the descent, I pass the source of the Var River and the village of Entraunes.

I reach the village of Guillaumes, happy that my phone has been found, and not too concerned about the terrible accommodation I've chosen for the night... 

Day 8: Guillaumes to Saint-Martin-Vésubie 

Without an alarm to wake me, my internal clock (and shabby accommodations) have me leaving Guillaumes by 7:30am -- my earliest start. Today will be hot and I'll suffer, but the early start gives me relatively cool conditions for the sun-exposed climb.

I reach the Col de Valberg with little difficultly.

And I stop in the ski village of Valberg to collect an extra inner-tube. Just in case.

From Valberg to the village of Beuil there's a relatively short downhill junction, and then the climb begins towards the Col de la Couillole. The first two kilometers are steep and then the next five are false-flat inclines to the summit.  I see no other cyclists along the way.

 I reach the Col de la Couillole.

The descent towards St Sauveur is spectacular, through a deeply encased valley and its serrated red rock, passing the perched village of Roubion. I need my camera. The farther I head southward, the more the Alpine pastures give way to bare rock, narrow valleys, and sheer cliffs.

I reach the village of Saint Sauveur in the valley.

The climb to the Saint Martin pass is going to hurt. It's getting near midday, it's hot, sun-exposed, and I fear the fury of the mortadelle sandwich I had in the valley. Just like on the Col de Vars climb, I seek tiny nooks of shade under solitary trees for needed breaks. Not for my legs, but rather the overheating engine. I feel relaxed though, knowing that this is the last tough obstacle, and if I get over it... the final day should be pretty "easy".

The Alpine village of Valdeblore appears halfway through the climb, one of three small villages before the pass. Nothing is open for a drink, but I find a park where I drink at least two litres of water, and run my bald head under a fountain. I manage to find an open bar/restaurant 4km farther, where I rest and fill up on some calories before the last stretch of the climb.

The clouds tease me in the final stretch, edging toward blocking the sun, but not quite. The final two kilometers are steep.

I descend to the mountain village of St. Martin Vésubie for my final night.

Day 9: Saint-Martin-Vésubie to Menton! 

After 13km of downhill I begin climbing up to the Col de Turini pass. I left early today, fearful of the Mediterranean sun, but it won't be a problem today. The climb to the Turini pass is scenic, quiet (not one cyclist), and entirely shaded on this western slope. My legs feel strong.

Instead of hoping for easy gradients over the last few days, I hope for shade.

I reach the Col de Turini pass and enjoy a drink.

The descent towards Sospel is superb, through the limestone hills, with many switchbacks.

I reach the village of Sospel in the valley and decide not to stop, preferring to tackle the final 7km of climbing right away.

The Col de Castillon proves to be easier than I feared, with gradual slopes.  And even a nice breeze.

The final summit is less than ceremonious, with no views. Even during the final descent towards Menton I can't see the prized Mediterranean through the thick summer haze. But the expensive cars and their aggressive drivers remind me that I'm almost on the Riviera, and I spot the waters just above the coastline.