Alpe d'Huez - Mules Alps Tour Day 1

After a hard days cycling I am predisposed to spending time watching TV for an hour or two. I especially enjoy the spring and summer months when I can usually find cycling on some channel.

If somebody told me 20 years ago that I would enjoy watching folk in Lycra riding around the countryside, I would be questioning their perception of me. 

At that time of my life, such an exposure to this type of viewing would be akin to me watching Love Island or Cheshire housewives in the present time.

I am not decrying the appeal of manufactured wannabes  showing off in search of celebrity status - the viewing figures would clearly rebut any logical argument I might present. 

I think as humans we have developed a vouyeristic pleasure

Rejoicing at the achievements of others and also wincing at their pain in failure or defeat.

I generally gauge the quality of my viewing by its ability to draw my attention or in some cases keep me awake.

When watching cycling it always grabs my attention especially the multi stage Grand Tours.
These provide a glut of vouyeristic delights with success, pain and failure served up in dramatic daily portions.

Amongst those there is one stage that towers above the rest the famous - Alpe d’Huez.

With a length of 13.2 km  and an ascent of 1071 meters at an average of 8.1% it is certainly not the biggest, longest or most challenging.

It is however one that attracts the most attention with spectators, film crews and journalists.

Often called the The Holywood Climb, it is one that always attracts my attention.

Seeing riders pedal through parting crowds of drunken dutchmen with thick orange smoke and collective hysteria is more impactive than any scene created in southern California.

The pain and suffering need no sub titles or introductions and the glory is palpable.

As a cyclist such exposure leaves a lasting effect, pushing you away from spectator to dreaming of entering this alpine arena.

This process is is similar to riding down hill without breaks. The momentum builds until you speedily arrive at your destination, not really knowing how you got there.

In my case I was joined in Bourg d’Oisans mid September by some other club members who also had brake issues.

I remember the morning that I first embraced Alpe d’huez.

It was in the same way that I remembered my first kiss, the day my children were born, and when I got married.

I remember the weather, what time it was and what I was wearing.

Like the afore mentioned events I had been offered lots of free and mostly welcome advice, but nothing can really prepare you for such memorable times.

After leaving the village you head towards what looks like a cliff face as you try and fathom how there could possible be a route upwards. Before you get too close, you can faintly make out the ski resort by forcing your head far back into a contorted position.

Each of the 21 switchbacks are provided with a sign numbered in descending order and also feature names of stage winners. With more winners than bends some contain more than one name. 

By the time the time that I had caught up Fausto Coppi at the first hair pin I needed no signs to remind me that I had started a legendary ascent.

The road was adoringly adorned with riders names, good wishes, humour and satire.

The artistry forced me to smile but sadly was not enough to distract my legs from protesting about the double digit gradient.

I had already encountered ‘Deadmans click’
The abject dissapointment when you tap for a lower gear and nothing happens.

You pray that it might be a quick fix mechanical issue, but soon realise that its because you have no gears left.

Despite my snail like pace by turn 20 I had caught up with Iban Mayo and had Lance Armstrong in my sights.

Despite his indiscretions I was not annoyed to see his name on Hairpin 19. He had been involved in many dramas on this slope which only enhanced its legendary status.

One such incident occurred at stage 10 of the 2001 Tour de France (an Alpe d’huez summit finish). Earlier in the stage Armstrong appeared to be struggling inducing his great rival Jan Ullrich power away at the front with his Telekom Team. 

As they got on Alp d’huez Armstrong moved up to join Ullrich before attaching him. After creating a gap of about 20 meters he turned and starred back at Ullrich in a look that has been interpreted as a challenge.

Armstrong always denied this saying that he was trying to locate a team mate.

I remember watching it on live TV at the time which was repeatedly played.

I thought ‘the look’ was a fantastic piece of gladiatorial drama from the uncompromising Texan.

As I got closer to Frank Schleck my fellow Mules who were by now further up the road looked back at me too.

I smiled. It was the look that Armstrong was trying to portray, an authentically sympathetic one. 

As I drew level with Pierre Rolland on hairpin 16 the gradient only had one digit to concern me and I was able to move up a gear.

My head was drawn away from the the road in front of me and my grip on my bars loosened as I was able to adopt a more comfortable upright position.

What struck me most of all was the elevation gain in such a short period of time. The switch backs had propelled me up the cliff face and Bourg d’Oisans now looked like a model village over a thousand feet below me.

The switchbacks continued with a symmetrical regularity where I observed and passed Sastre, Winnen, Hinault and Bugno.

After the switchback 7, I passed  the famous Notre Damme des Neiges church at Dutch Corner. I could clearly hear my own heartbeat and the sound of an Alpine spring. 

The Air was pure and the road clear.

I needed no reminder that all things change at this location on Tour day.

Resident Dutch priest Jaap Reuton rang the church bells when Joop Zoetemelk won in the1960s.

In more recent times the vestry is turned into a bar and you can find ashtrays in the Nave.

A resident DJ attempts to raise the dead by pumping out cheesy pop songs and dance music next to the graveyard.

On this day the only sign of the flatlands was the orange paint and the names of Dutch riders filling the blank tarmac canvas.

Alpe d’huez often joked as the highest climb in Holland because 8 of the first 14 winners were from this land.

Knowing that the majority of Holland sits below sea level, made it particularly ironic.

With the ski resort and summit now in view and the numbers on the switchback corners moving downwards, my spirit rose with the elevation. I finally knew that this particular script would have a happy ending.

After reaching the summit we substituted are usual coffee with Beer. I don't usually drink beer mid ride but this was no ordinary ride as Geraint Howell Thomas so eloquently put it.

Its Alpe d’huez man