June 20, 2003
Le Pont de l'Abime - St. Michel de Maurienne
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We had eaten well, we slept well in comfortable beds and then woke to the most sublime alpine morning. In spite of the exertions and the extreme heat of the day before, [what does not kill me makes me stronger] this was the sort of morning to fall in love with. Sunny but cool, with a perfect blue sky and no wind, the potential for exultation seemed to be limitless. Eating breakfast on such a day is pure joy, even if it is just coffee, bread and jam. Loading the bike, my body tingling with anticipation, I felt as though I was
about to be handed the key to the pleasure dome.
In the car park just before we left , I was chatting to a fellow guest, explaining to her exactly what we were up to and where we were going. She said you have to climb un petit col, a little pass, here, pointing to the place on the map, from there you can see Mont Blanc.. We set out and after climbimg up and away from our bridge over the abyss and our gorge, we found ourselves back in the valley of the Chéran, now transmogrified into a broad, lush alpine valley. Today being a Saturday, there were plenty of other cyclists on the road, out on either pleasure or training runs, presumably from cycling clubs in either Annecy or Aix-les-Bains. This partially concealed pastoral interlude lasted for around 25 km, after which it was time to take on our petit col, le col du Frêne. The valley road had been taking us in a southerly direction. The first few loops of the descent, in contrast, took us slightly north of east and at the end of this sightline, as promised, was the enormous white expanse of the Mont Blanc Massif. The climb out of the valley peaking at 950m had not been too strenuous, meriting only 10 points in le Tour's King of the Mountains competition. It would have been tougher in the other direction.
We stopped in the small town of St. Pierre d'Albigny for lunch supplies, at the same time refilling all our water bottles with cold water at a drinking fountain. We continued downhill to the floor of the Isère valley. The Isère flows from the Italian border, above the ski resort of Val d'Isère to join the Rhône, just north of Valence, for a distance of 280km. We rode upstream for 2 of the 280km, after which we turned east, while crossing the river and then south along the RN6 up the valley of its major tributary, the Arc.. Before the motorway system was built, the RN6 was the main highway from Paris to Turin. Now, of necessity the Autoroute runs alongside, leaving our route relatively traffic-free. The main railway line also joins the fun. We stopped to eat at a picnic area immediately after our crossing of the Isère. We shared our table with a bundle of Front National election leaflets, left behind, presumably, by a less than enthusiastic volunteer. I tucked one into my handlebar bag, with the intention of, giving it to Patrick for discussion purposes in his French class and possibly draining the colour from the face of his rather prissy French teacher.
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We agreed, we should call it a day at the foot of the Col du Télegraphe which meant staying overnight in St. Michel de Maurienne. The day was heating up again and what should have been an easy run of 55km up the valley was tougher than it looked on the map. First we stopped to fill the bottles once again, appropriately enough, in the village of Aiguebelle[fine water]. Following the N6, we by-passed the larger town of St. Jean de Maurienne, but had a superb close-up of the aluminium smelter and its attendant, marching electricity pylons. I hadn't expected this, in what would have otherwise been a pristine mountain location. The economic logic is of course irrefutable, available hydro electric power + enormous demand for electricity = metallurgy in the valley. From a distance, St. Jean reminded me of industrial towns in British Columbia or the western United States. Even the smaller and 15km more remote, St. Michel proudly declared itself to be the epicentre of metal bashing. Personally I prefer visiting places, which have some raison d'être other than the tourist euro and St. Michel, though ultimately welcoming, gave the impression of having a primary purpose other than that of launching pad for alpine peregrinations.
Having encountered few other cyclo-touristes to date, in the Savoy Hotel, we were surprised to be offered a pension cycliste, dinner bed and breakfast for two wheel freewheelers, which of course we gratefully accepted. Among our fellow guests were a group from Marseilles who were riding without luggage, which was carried in vehicles driven by their wives or girlfriends. There appeared to be some obvious benefits there. Chris took the first shower again, while I crossed the street and drank beer in a bar, where young men in sleeveless vests and young women in short summer dresses shared the same sweaty, careworn expression, surrounded by discarded instant lottery tickets. As it was Saturday they might have been drinking all afternoon.
Our rather cramped room on the second floor, at he back of the hotel, overlooked, first the railway line along which freight trains passed at frequent intervals, then the river, here turbulent and fast flowing and beyond that, following the contour on the opposite side of the valley, the autoroute. We ate dinner on the terrace of the hotel, our hunger gratefully satisfied. Afterwards we set out to explore St. Michel de Maurienne and after five minutes we were back in the hotel, writing postcards home. Sorry, anything for a cheap laugh, blame the Marx brothers. We did go out for a beer and found that the top spot in town was a small bar that also sold pizzas, so the cheap laugh carried some truth. We needed sleep tonight. I was beginning to feel nervous about the forthcoming ascent of the Télégraphe and the great hulk, the Galibier.
Today's ride: 100 km (62 miles)
Total: 1,086 km (674 miles)
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