We’d only landed that morning, miles away from the Alpe. Arriving at the campsite, the mountains loomed around us and looked on as we fettled and fussed over our bikes. Lowell, Frank and I went for an epic shop with the van. 6 hungry B-boys+ Marmotte route(4 HC cols)= heavy trolley. We arived back at camp, somewhat frazzled by the experience, only to find Jai, Stu and Dixon dressed to impress and practically on their bikes, waiting for us.
We’re going to ride the Alpe,
What, now?
Yes. Hurry up and get dressed.
But…
No buts. Hurry up!
So we did.
A beautiful hill. Ramping straight up into the famous hairpins, each named for a past winner, the views down into the valley are immediately stunning. We drink them in, everything magical and breathless. Lucky we did, as the next time we’d climb this hill it’d be getting on pitch black and there’d be little energy for sightseeing even if hadn’t been 9pm… But for now, joy.
When we reached the village of Alpe D’Huez, and had waited for Dixon and Lowell to descend from the extra bit they’d climbed, we even found a handy podium by the side of the road. This is the photo.
