We hung around the top of L’Alpe d’Huez long enough to swap stories, refuel and buy a souvenir or two. The town of Alpe d’Huez is surprisingly uncharming, a ski town sprawled across a barren slope, very un-French in its lack of planning and mish-mash of shops, condos and parking lots. After a while, we coasted back down to hairpin 6, then turned and took a one-lane road through a few buildings crowded hard against the edge of the mountain and then winding down the mountainside with stunning views out over the valley. We’d cycle 200 yds, stop for photos, cycle another 200 yds. Eventually we unstruck our awe enough to make our way back to L’Boug-de-Oisans for lunch.
It was noon and we had cycled only 25 miles, but the racing up L’Alpe (1100 m. vert) had whupped several of us—me, for sure—and I was thinking of lunch, beer, a nap and an easy afternoon at the hotel. Some of my boyz were leaning the same way. The discussion at lunch turned to a road Charles had seen carved into the edge of a mountain above our hotel, and another road twisting down the other side of the same mountain. Charles had studied a map of the area the night before and, while this wasn’t a regular cycling route, it looked like a cool adventure and the two roads were connected by a dotted line at the top of the mountain. The beer took hold and after an hour, we decided to forego naps and check out the road.
It was, of course, single-lane, cut into the rock, longer and steeper than we had thought, and included 3 tunnels, 2 of them curved and pitch black since you couldn’t see the other end. It was also so stunningly beautiful that we hardly noticed we were, in essence, climbing Alpe d'Huez a second time both in steepness and length. At the end of the road, high on the mountain, we arrived at a small hamlet named Notre Dame-du-Something, with a small café that said “Biere.” There was also a sign pointing up a narrow lane that struck out across the rolling top of the mountain, apparently to another hamlet. A sign at the lane said “Obstructed,” and this was, presumably, the dashed line of the map.
While we had a biere, we asked the cafe woman for details. She told Nel that the lane was gravel, it was 4 km to the next town, it was rolling and would add another 100 m. vertical, mostly guys on mountain bikes crossed it but occasionally a road bike would come through. It was impassable by car. Meanwhile, the sky had clouded over, the wind was gusting and it was clearly raining in the direction the lane headed. I was tired, really tired, and ready to head back down the way we had come up, but once again my more courageous comrades--excited by the unknown--prevailed and we set out across the moor-like mountain top.
It was exactly as advertised except for the vert. meters, which we estimated as closer to 200 than 100. The first km was hard-packed and fairly easy to navigate on skinny tires. Then it got more interesting. Small glaciers encroached on the lane in 2 locations, releasing rivulets of water across our path. Shale scree was scattered over the surface, puddles and muddy patches dotted the way, a sheer bank dropped from the lane’s edge and the clouds began to spit light rain. And it was absolutely beautiful, one of the most exhilarating and top-of-the-world experiences we could imagine on a road bike! We managed to ride the lane for the most part, walking a place or two where loose shale made balance impossible, and ultimately we came to a hard-packed gravel road that led to a paved road and down the other side of the mountain, just as the map had predicted. Amazingly, at the very top where the loose shale met the hard-packed gravel, was parked an old pickup truck and a solitary man with a hoe was working in a garden plot—all by himself on top of the mountain.
The descent was as exhilarating as the climb and crossing, with smooth pavement and the tightest hairpins we had ever ridden, and only 2 cars seen in 10 km. We sailed over a bridge and up a short grade to a main road where we stopped to regroup, huge smiles on our faces. "THAT was QUALITY!!!" enthused Rich, and we all laughed, filled with the thrill of an adventure that went right.
We arrived back at our hotel with our cyclometers showing 50 mi. and 2200 m. of climbing for the day—all of which seemed impossibly inadequate to describe what we all agreed was the greatest cycling day of our lives.
This was our final day and we were determined to savor it. Andiamo had designed a fabulous route, replacing Crete de Chatillon, which some of us had climbed the day before, with a meander through the hills and narrow country roads above Lake Annecy. We hit the point of reckoning about 1 PM—the Col de Forclaz. This mountain looming over Lake Annecy displayed the steepest clinb profile of any mountain on our itinerary. I was open to skipping it, given 6 straight days of climbing major mountains would justify a taper, but my intrepid bike mates weren’t wavering. Up we went. It turned into a wonderful exclamation point to a week of climbing the Alps, and provided two useful insights: 1) our climbing legs had gotten pretty good and 2) short (9 km, 12%) steep climbs now seem easier than long (25 km, 8%) semi-steep climbs. 
We took some pictures at the top, and Rich toyed with the idea of taking the fast way down, before we remounted our bikes and coasted down the road back to the lake and eventually the town of Annecy. 
We packed our bikes, had the best meal of the trip at an Old Annecy restaurant, and celebrated Todd’s 56th birthday, promising him a new hip joint for a gift. He thanklessly turned us down, preferring titanium and a US surgeon to the iron and Burmese surgeon we could afford. Oh well….. And then we toasted Nel and Mike of Andiamo for tagging along with us and keeping us entertained, and Rich—the Ride Commish—for making it happen and raising the bar--the top tube-- on what a bike adventure could be.
Today was a very hard day. 11,300 ft. of climbing, 81 miles, and we’re all beat. The itinerary was adlibbed this morning since the Galibier is closed. It seems like most peaks over 2200 m. are still closed due to snow. Instead we climbed the Col du Glandon, Col de Creux de Fer and Col de la Madeleine. They were all long with plenty of steeps.
The signature moment came when Markham got off his bike 2/3 of the way up la Croix de Fer to check his flat tire. He was convinced it was flat. Except it wasn't flat--it was its normal round hard 100 lb. pressure. That pretty much describes the day--the mountains saw to it that we rode flat tires for 40 miles.
We left the Park Hotel in Grenoble at 9:15 this morning, riding through city traffic in a light mist to the outskirts of town. We stopped for a few minutes to puzzle out our route, then found the road leading up to the main climb of the day, Chamrousse. (This is another of those famous time trial climbs that Lance won in a Tour de France, although we rode up an alternate route.) The rain began in earnest 3 km into the climb, lasting about 45 minutes. This was enough to get us thoroughly wet but not to dampen our spirits, and when it stopped, we were already above the lower clouds, obscuring what we assumed to be a grand view of Grenoble and the valley below. The first 10 km were real leg burners and we welcomed the more moderate pitch of the remaining 12 k. 
We put on warm dry clothing at the top and then began a wet, foggy, twisty descent back down to the main road below (the descent was the route that Lance time-trialed up.) The sun came out and the pavement was rapidly drying as we turned up the main road and headed to the small town of Villiers for lunch. After loading on pizza, fries and other cyclist mainstays for lunch, we resumed our journey up the valley to L’Bourg-de’Oisans, a cycling hangout in the heart of the French Alps. The 24 km stretch between Villiers and L’Bourg turned into a mad chase of Rick McConnell and the Texans, who saw the open 1% slope and tailwind as ideal conditions to strut their stuff, pushing a steady 22 –24 mph. By the time we reached the turnoff for the day’s second climb, our group was badly sucking wind and the Ride Commish declared the second climb “optional”—though not without some controversy—which meant that we all soft-pedaled the remaining 3 km to our hotel and quickly stashed our bikes. It was already almost 4 PM and we had completed 96 km and 6700 ft of climbing, and guys were thinking of L’Alpe d’Huez coming up in the AM, and there was plenty of gear to dry out. We later learned that Howie and Chris, some way behind the lead group, made the turn and completed the second climb before arriving at the hotel at 6 PM. They now are attempting to challenge the Ride Commish’s ruling, wanting to assign us a DNF for the day!
I received many admiring glances as I paraded through the airport in my XU2 compression tights, overlaid with standard khaki shorts and a collared shirt. One youngster looked at me like he thought I must be Peter Pan’s father. Betsy had observed on the way to the airport, “You are a fashion statement unto yourself!” My tights, of course, had nothing to do with fashion and everything to do with performance. “All of the pros wear them,” a friend of mine, who works pro races, had informed me. “They REALLY help with recovery.” 
We gathered for our 9 AM departure with bikes and a variety of rain gear as the weather report promised rain in the mountains and in Grenoble, our destination. We picked our way through the cars and round-abouts of Chambery before beginning our first climb, the Col du Granier, 15 km mostly in the 6 - 8% range. Markham, Rick, Nick and I went off the front and paced each other up the long climb, with Markham and I reaching the top together. A little light rain spattered us along the way, but nothing serious. The wind and damp at the top quickly chilled us, so we added arm warmers and donned our jackets for a descent down wet pavement. Abruptly, the sun came out, and we rode into a picturesque little town with a patisserie and open air market featuring local strawberries. Not having obtained any euros yet, I was left with stealing a couple berries from Chris and resolving to go to the first ATM I could find in Grenoble. 
A beautiful day in France--everything has gone exactly as planned! All flights arrived on time, all bikes showed up at baggage claim. We loaded our gear into the Andiamo vans and headed to Chambery arriving at Chateau de Candie by 10:00 AM. 
