Raid Alps 2024: Day 6 Briançon – Barcelonnette

Day 6 Briançon – Barcelonnette – 113 km – 2 700m D+

"The day begins the Izoard and its “Casse Déserte”, a daunting and barren landscape that takes over in the final kilometers of this demanding climb, the day then concludes with the sporadic percent grades of the Col de Vars, so get ready for a few steep sections as you make your way to the top. “

 Difficulties: 

-Col d’Izoard (14 km at 7.3 %) 

-Col de Vars (19.1 km at 5.5 %)

Unfortunately, the biggest challenge of the day was not the extent of the climbs, but the weather: cold and rainy from the start. Our group set out as usual, as a group on the first climb which, though never very extreme in pitch, was wet, and as we climbed  the temperature dropped and the rain continued. It never once stopped, impeding the views, and soaking the cyclists.

Once at the Col we found a refuge (cafe) open, and entered one at a time, drawn like iron filings to a magnet to their wood stove.

Most ordered a hot drink (“cartes de crédit non acceptées”—thank you for whichever of you paid for my café chaud!)

We added dry layers from the daybags that our guide crew helpfully hustled inside to us. I added all I had, but unfortunately only waterproof for my helmet cover and my jacket. 

It was hard to get outside and back on the bike, even after layering up with all the warm and weather-proof gear we carried. As I climbed back onto my bike I looked down at my GPS device to confirm what I suspected: 39F, and spitting “frizzle:” freezing drizzle. I was already cold, and although I had a waterproof jacket, my gloves, bibshorts and knee covers absorbed the rain and continued to chill me.

I knew the next pitch was the descent—about 14km to match the distance of the climb up the Col d’Isoard—and significantly colder than the ascent because of speed-generated windchill, and the lack of physical effort to climb the slope. It was at least as cold as I feared. I kept telling myself, “one more kilometer; one more kilometer; only 8 to go . . . 7 to go . . “ As I got closer to the bottom. I feared not being able to squeeze the brake levers hard enough to slow before each hairpin, as my hands easily go cold, and when they’re cold, they are weak. Remember, these were wet roads, as in “slippery when . . . . so bearing down on the brake levers was not an option, as there was too much risk of locking up the wheels and skidding.

I’m embarrassed to admit that I had the thought, briefly but clearly— “it would be so easy to let go of the levers, go straight off this curve and be done.” That was probably my first signal that I was mentally in the kind of trouble that comes with hypothermia. But I did not let go, reminding myself of all that I love about life, INCLUDING tackling tough physical challenges, and knowing that any help I needed was only an ask away. I made it safely to our regrouping spot at the bottom of the descent. 

By then I was in full shivering mode, then shaking, until I couldn’t easily hold my bike upright, even though I was standing straddling it. The only credit I gave myself was that I knew I was becoming hypothermic, and asked for help before I was too far gone to know I needed it. Our guides are pros: Ewa took my bike, huddled me into the van, and offered dry layers to add to what I already had on, turned up the heat and fed me chocolate. Even so it took at least two hours to warm myself in the sheltered van.

I’m not used to hitting my physical limits, and doing so Sunday rattled me, especially after having done so well on the bike the previous two days I felt a lot of disappointment. I may be made of tough sinews and bone, but I have very little meat and no insulation on my frame, and can thus expect I won’t do well in the wet and cold. And I didn’t, to my momentary shame. At least half of our group made the smart decision to sag the 2nd half of the route that day, and no one, I mean NO ONE, has had a shaming word to say about those who stopped because of the wet and cold.

But stars of our team did perservere:

Tom, Pat, Scott, Andrew and Amanda all finished all 100+km of the ride, and all feel appropriately proud of their accomplishments, as well they should.

I’m proud to travel with them and praise their accomplishment. They were tough, and dogged, in a way I value in myself when I can muster it. They all reported feeling chilled to the bone; compared it unfavorably to other unpleasant days in their lives, and not really having very much fun while doing. We all have our individual gifts, and they all shone at different times through this adventure.

Now that I’m warmed, and dry (and, in fact, sitting in a lovely, lovely hotel courtyard in mild, warm Nice), I can look back with a bit of perspective and say that my outstanding achievement of our cold, wet day was recognizing I was in trouble and asking for help— not something easy for me to do. And help was so available in our wonderful servant guides, Ewa, Constantin, and David, and, of course, my cycling mates, so eager to look out for each other and to help as able. 

And now for the last day of this Tour, tomorrow, and fortunately with a forecast of warm and DRY weather, as we make a pair of moderate climbs, then descend to sea level at the coast at Nice, our final destination. I wish to savor this, our last day of the Raid Alps.