Tour to the Alps,   2002

Prologue

Between 1985 and 1989 - when I was young and did not have a family - I cycled from home to the Alpes every summer (twice including the Pyrenees, once including the Dolomites as well). In the nineties, when I did have a family, time was shorter, and I always took a bus. This year, at the age of 41 I wanted to do it from home once again. Not that all parts to the south are interesting, but I expected to experience some nostalgic moments. Before I left, I had booked beds for the first three nights as well as the fifth, the last one in the youth hostel of Les Rousses, that I had visited five times in the 80's, and where to my pleasure there were still Peter and Sylvie running the place (their baby now being a 16 year old daughter!) Also I had thought it would be quite something to cover 1000 km in five days, something I'd never accomplished before - a kind of Old Man And The Sea performance so to speak - but after three warming-up weekends I had more or less abolished that (crazy) idea.

3 - 8 - 2002,   Nootdorp - Schimmert,   220 km

Saturday morning at seven I mounted my Koga. After a very warm and sunny summer week, the weather forecast for the weekend was ominous. Within the first kilometer it started to drizzle, and not yet 3 km from home I had to get my raincoat from my bags. Yuck! This first shower did not last long, but some 30 km later, just before the ferry of Schoonhoven it started raining again, hard, and it continued to do so for more than two hours. I postponed the usual coffee break at Schoonhoven because of the long distance I had planned to go. I was almost sure I could get something warm in Woudrichem, but the cafés there appeared to be open only in the evening. It was so wet, my raincoat had shown not to be waterproof anymore and I had to pee (urgently). Nice start! In Heusden I finally managed to get coffee and apple pie. I put on my thermo underwear, in midsummer! Normally I wear this only in the winter, when I go for a run at a temperature below 5^o C. After this quite long break it was still drizzling slightly, but for the next 75 km the weather was okay; the wind from the south east didn't help though. Right after I had changed to sandals and put my soaked shoes on the luggage carrier it started to rain again. In Belgium that was. Anyway, I was getting close to the first destination. If only that ferry over the Maas river would still be in operation after seven. It did, so around half past seven I reached Vrienden van de Fiets in Schimmert, just north of Valkenburg, which turned out to be quite a professional accommodation, with, apart from me, four or six walkers. I asked for some old newspapers, to put in my shoes, not suspecting that later on this would become daily routine.

4 - 8 - 2002,   Schimmert - Grevenmacher,   204 km

I did not have a very early start on this quite hard day. (I didn't want to have the family get up so early for me on Sunday). Around 8:30 I left Schimmert. In the morning, when there was some sunshine, I had time to follow some small roads, and get lost - as usual - around Limbourg-Dolhain. In this village I had two coffees - life and coffee tasted good on a sunny terrace. I just missed Spa, but not the 'mountain' range south of it. I followed part of the route where Indurain gained some time during a long surprise solo in his last successful Tour. And from there I just had to follow the quickest route to Grevenmacher, would I possibly reach it before seven. They had told me there would be no one to welcome me after seven, and I had memories, dating back to '88, of a not very busy youth hostel. At two o'clock it seemed impossible to get there even before eight, when someone caught up with me from behind. A Dutchman who had started from Valkenswaard, very early that same day. However as he was close to cramp and slowed down a bit, and I sped up a little, we went along together for some fifty km, on the shitty road from Trois-Ponts to Diekirch; at the end it's almost a motorway. In Diekirch I chose the shortest - not the flattest - alternative, viz. via Larochette to Grevenmacher, a route with some nice passages, and also, alas, some wet passages. Shortly before my destination I awkwardly kicked off my pump, and before I could pick it up from the pavement the second car that passed run it over. Nasty joke! I reached the youth hostel, at the end of the steeper than 20% Grüewereck, around 18:45. The youth hostel had the same shabby appearance as in 1988. For instance, when I closed the curtains the whole thing, rail and all, came down, almost on my head. The Charly Gaul fan that had run the place fourteen years ago had in the meantime been replaced by a bosomy lady in her fifties, a bit stubborn at first, but softening after she had seen my passport (expired since 1998, which she did not notice). I bought me some eatables in a Shell-shop for the next morning (I didn't want to wait till 8 o'clock for the youth hostel's breakfast), and found me a table on a not too pleasantly located terrace. Well, at least I could sit outside, were it only for half of the meal (rain again). When I got home I had a short funny encounter with an Austrian boy and his English girlfriend, on their way from her to his home country. They had not yet made up their minds what to think of the place (and moreover I had to disappoint them as to what they would find in the 'city' of Grevenmacher). Well, they must have found something, because I didn't see them get back during the next hour (or they may just as well have left for good).

5 - 8 - 2002,   Grevenmacher -- Ban-de-Sapt,   219 km (!)

Would this long transfer be accomplished, Les Rousses in five days normally would give no difficulties. The evening before I had re-counted the distance, and found that at home I had made a mistake: my earlier estimation had been 20 km too short. Oops! Nevertheless I would make it. The start was hard: again wind from the south (the weather man had promised wind from the north), and VERY cloudy. So around seven, on the west bank of the Moselle, I certainly did not have one of my happier moments. I visited Germany for only ten km, and when I crossed the German-French border shortly before Sierck-les-Bains, it started to rain. Already! I decided to have my first grand café paid in euro's. I left the Moselle for the 'good-old' D958 (I rode it at least three times between '86 and '89) to Bouzonville. The rain had stopped, and the route was much nicer than I remembered. I definitely decided to skip the Col du Donon, my favorite pass in Les Vosges, and because of the distance take the mostly red route to today's destination. Long stretches, rolling hills, through France's cornfields. I did not have time for many breaks; the condition (also my butt's) appeared okay. I took one - a break that is - at noon in Dieuze, just like on the third day of my last expedition from home to the Alps (Delft - Namur - Thionville - Rothau - Montbeliard - Les Rousses - Aix-les-Bains), and had a menu kebab this time. Never before had I seen any Turkish restaurants in France. The next break took place some 70 km further in Badonviller, right at the foot of the Vosges, and an unexpected nice gateway to enter these hills. The sky had cleared quite a bit, so the last part of this giant's stride was just enjoy, enjoy. Instead of the Col du Donon I passed the Col de la Chapelotte (only 446 m). Between Raon-l'Etape and St. Dié my map appeared not up-to-date anymore - the main road had become secondary road since the construction of a new autoroute, of which my map 62 did not give any sign (well, the map is from 1976). After some climbing, and with slightly protesting thighs, I arrived at the gîte rural, beautifully located in the very small hameau of Gemainfaing (at most twenty houses) around 20:15, where I was warmly welcomed by the owners, man and wife, of the gîte. I made my own meal ( cassoulet from a boîte) in the members' kitchen, which I shared - I mean the kitchen - with a couple from Mulhouse. The dormitory, an attic with ten or fifteen matresses, all for myself, was very primitive, but it contained everything a tired cyclist could wish for.

6 - 8 - 2002,   Ban-de-Sapt - Point-de-Roide,   187 km

The next two étapes would be a bit less demanding. From Ban-de-Sapt, for a change, I did not leave under a thickly covered sky. In fact, it was a beautiful morning through a beautiful environment. The feeling of well-being got disturbed by signs along the road indicating that the route over the Col du Mandray was closed, route barrée due to travaux aux ponts, but I took the risk. I got quite nervous because of all the rappels, but at the moment suprême I did not regret my choice: for cars it was definitely barrée, but cyclists could pass by, so I had the road to myself. Where the day before I had not succeeded to find an open bike-shop, now in sunny Fraise I finally managed to get myself a new pump (which luckily I wouldn't need during the remaining seven days). After Fraise there were two cols de deuxième catégorie in store, namely the Col de Bramont and the Col du Hundsrück, the former with a descent of première catégorie. In between I had a lovely lunch with Roquefort (blue cheese) in a bus cubicle in Ventron, while the first shower of the day passed over. The second shower forced me to put on my raincoat though. The Col du Hundsrück was already the last 'event' in Les Vosges. For the rest of the day I followed a lot of tiny ('white') roads through several villages with a bas and an haut version, getting very close to the Swiss border, but never actually crossing it. I arrived in Point-de-Roide before seven, expecting (hoping!) to find a syndicat d'initiative there from where I could book a bed in a hotel in preferably Saint Hippolyte. As it happened the multi-functional building that housed the tourist information also accommodated a gîte d'étape. How nice! I shared a twelve-bedded dormitory with a French spéléologue. I made quite a detour to get to a restaurant (1000 km in 5 days had become very possible), where I was joined by the other three guests of the gîte, three French female teachers who the night before were washed away in their tent. We shared a table but not much conversation. At 'home' I had an eerie experience when, after buzzing about for half an hour in and around my dormitory, which I had inspected to be empty, I turned off the light, in the pitch darkness found my way to my bed, and when lying still on my back heard someone breathing; the spéléologue had apparently hidden very deep in his sleeping bag.

7 - 8 - 2002,   Pont-de-Roide - Les Rousses,   179 km

On the map the last long étape looked attractive, especially the first forty km along the Doubs and the Désoubre. Alas, the weather prevented it to be so. Most of the morning it was drizzling. I was very happy to find a hotel-restaurant in Gigot, a hamlet so small that Michelin does not even give it a black dot. I remember only that hotel. It kept raining and raining (not just drizzling) until, through and a little after Pontarlier. I did not much enjoy the under better circumstances probably quite nice road from Les Gras to Pontarlier. In the latter town I lost my way: no sun to help me find the right direction, and the only information the signs in that city gave was " toutes directions". Terrible! (also: terrible!) I had coffee (and some warmth) in Mouthe, right before the rather long but easy climb over the ridge of Noirmont to the Lac de Joux, already in the valley of Les Rousses. During the last 20 km I totally unexpectedly came to see some fragments of blue sky. In my opinion Les Rousses has not become any better, these last thirteen years. Three golf courses ..... Yuck! I reached the good-old auberge de jeunesse about seven p.m., the kilometer-counter indicating 1009 km since Nootdorp. The youth hostel is still a very cosy place; Peter and Sylvie have not changed much about it; indeed why should they. In the evening we informed each other of the developments in our lives during the last thirteen years.


That was roughly the first half of the trip.   Now the Alps were within one day's reach.
From Pont-de-Roide I had already booked two nights in the Haute-Savoie.

8 - 8 - 2002,   Les Rousses - Mieussy,   161 km

Gorgeous day.   A.o. because it was the first day without any rain!
The first hour, when I rode slowly up the 'new' Col de la Faucille, it was still very cloudy, and the road was wet. East of the Jura the weather turned out splendid. The descent from the Faucille is very nice, and it will be even nicer with clear weather, when I'm certain you'll be able to see the Mont-Blanc. In Saint Génis I had coffee on a sunny terrace. Good pastry! Life was good. From St. Génis I found my way around Geneva, over scenic tiny routes. Four times I crossed the French-Swiss border on roads that were closed during the night. I thought I could see the Salève ridge. In Cruseilles, at the foot of this ridge (and only 20 km or so from my final destination in five days), I ordered a plat du jour and did not forget to put on some sun oil, before I started the climb of the day, from about 600 m to 1300 m. It wasn't very steep, it wasn't too warm, the views to all sides were great! The descent to the north is very steep. For most of the rest of the trip most of the roads were awfully busy, even the 'white' ones. Only after Marignier things got better, though on the D26 the cars that passed me passed me with a frighteningly high speed. On the stroke of seven I reached Mieussy (some 25 km to the south-west of Morzine), beautifully located, and a quarter of an hour later I arrived at the gîte, one in the first group of houses along the road to the Col de la Ramaz. There I was welcomed by a friendly lady, who gave me a place on a landing, while in fact the gîte was fully booked. She had some unfriendly news as well: the next few days the weather would be horrible.

9 - 8 - 2002,   Mieussy - Mieussy,   145 km

The first day sans bagage. The things I didn't need during the day I stowed away in a corner, since in the evening I could move to a real room. I could take anything I wanted for breakfast from the kitchen, and at the usual time, around seven-thirty got my bike from the shed. Cloudy morning; very cloudy. In the morning I wanted to add half a dozen of small cols to my list, in the afternoon I would then attack the Col de Joux Verte and the Col de la Ramaz from new sides. The seven cols in the morning were all Cols du Brouillard (Perret, Saxel, Cou, Feu, Moisses, Arces and Feu). In Boëge I found some warmth and coffee in a café with funny guests. Next to my table a couple of very old French gentlemen took place. I hardly suppressed the urge to stroke one of their bald heads. For the rest the morning was not very funny. Before noon it got at least dry for a while. I had lunch on a doorstep in La Vernaz, like in 1994 when I did a hard version of this trip in the reverse direction. On the nasty D293 to Morzine it started to rain again. Nevertheless I took off my raincoat and started to climb to the Lac de Montriond in just my T-shirt. Around the lake it started to rain harder. It was quite a refreshing undertaking - at some parts quite steep too - until Les Lindarets, where it was, even on this sad, grey day, crammed with people. Between Les Lindarets and the T-crossing near Avoriaz the rain wasn't pleasant for my eyes, but at least I did not get too cold. However, who goes up must go down. The descent was wet, cold (even with three layers of almost dry clothes), so right down terrible. I reached Morzine - which ironically is also known as one of the Portes du Soleil - with shaking legs, painful shoulders and cramping fingers. I had a pizza in a restaurant, where I wanted to have my T-shirt dried in the oven. The hour I spent there however wasn't long enough to get myself warm through (and my T-shirt dry through), so I decided to take the easy (= quickest) route to Mieussy, i.e. no Col de d'Encrenaz, no Col de la Ramaz. And I didn't even reach home that early: around six-thirty. In the morning I had still had the optimism and courage to try (unsuccessfully) to book a bed in good-old Séez (at the other side of the Colombière, Aravis, Saisis and Cormet de Roselend) - but when I learned about the terrible weather that was still in store - a pack of snow at 2500 m and at lower places pluie, pluie, pluie - I changed my plans. Next morning I'd let the rain pass over, and in the afternoon ride to some place not far from Sévrier, where I would stay the last three nights. I shared the gîte with a wedding party (not including the bride and the bridegroom), but at the dinner table I was the only guest. From the bed in my two-bedded room I could already hear the rain, rain, rain . . . . . .

10 - 8 - 2002,   Mieussy - Seythenex,   107 km