Passione Celeste

by Mark Pritchard

  Today was going to be the first day in the Hautes Pyrenees, what this tour is really all about. We slipped out of Jaca into a lovely early morning misty vista. By my reckoning today was going to be a superb one weather-wise. The omens were good and I was sure that as the sun burned off the mist, we were going to enjoy clear blue skies and warming temperatures. Within a couple of miles we were onto the first climb of the day, reasonably short and sharp; just the sort of climb to warm my legs as a prelude to the main event of the day.

  Once again, the countryside did not disappoint: we were riding through some lovely pine forests and the air was rich with the smell of resin. Although the roads were a bit rougher than we had become accustomed to they were relatively traffic-free and so very enjoyable. Our ride was broken up with several photostops. There were so many opportunities that I began to wonder if we would reach our destination before sunset. Every corner we rounded seemed to throw up an even more spectacular view. In the background the high mountains were gradually getting closer and closer. Reaching the first feed station at 25 miles gave us a chance to pause and draw breath; not from the efforts of riding, more from an overindulgence of soaking up the scenery.

  Suitably refreshed, we set off again for the main event of the day, the ascent of the Puerto del Sarrablo. Over the next 22 miles this rose nearly 2,000 feet at an average gradient of just under 2 per cent. The lower sections seemed almost flat, but as we climbed higher and higher a few steeper sections reared up to test our legs. Much of the climb is through pine forest, which gave off a pungent smell as the morning sun rose and warmed up the air. Along the way I passed through a small group of cattle which were standing in the road and seemed quite nonplussed by my arrival. As I rode upwards enjoying the sights and smells I passed a sign telling me that I was in the Parque Geológico de los Pirineos. This is a Geopark designated by UNESCO to celebrate the magnificent 500 million-year geological heritage of the area.

  Reaching the top of the climb took me around two hours, and I rode it without stopping. I’ve made a video of the ascent which I hope to post when I’m back home. At the summit we paused to regroup and enjoy the most spectacular view so far. The view was enriched by the sight of a pair of Griffon Vultures circling effortlessly overhead. For me this was easily the high point of the tour so far, and I’m struggling to find the words to express my feelings. So you’ll just have to accept that it was beyond description!

  Unfortunately we had to move on. If I thought the ascent was spectacular, then the descent was possibly even more spectacular. For once I could shed my inhibitions and really enjoy the fast descent. With an average gradient of about 8 per cent and dozens of open, sweeping curves I wound up the speed and flew downwards. I recorded a video of the descent too, so hopefully I’ve captured a sense of exhilaration that I felt.

  Martyn and Amanda were waiting at the bottom of the descent with our lunch. By now the temperature was rising steadily so we were glad of the refreshment (that cool melon was yummy!). But we had to press on over the final 20 miles to Campo, our overnight destination. This final leg was hard; very hard. In temperatures that rose to over 30 degrees, with absolutely no shade, the final 9 per cent, 2-mile climb of Foradada was quite a challenge. The longish straights added to the pressure and I could see the air shimmering over the tarmac ahead of me. This was very much a case of turning the cranks one revolution at a time and grinding it out!

  Eventually we reached the summit and then it was a very fast descent to Campo. I managed to touch nearly 50 mph before reaching the bottom, and I wasn’t the fastest by a long way! At last we reached Campo, a small, sleepy hamlet alongside the River Ésera and surrounded by the mountains in every direction. The fast-flowing river is used by canoeists for slalom racing. After riding in the hot sunshine, all that was needed now was a cooling glass of beer, and I wasn’t disappointed! Sitting on the terrace of the Hotel Los Nogales with some spectacular views of the surrounding mountains in the fading sunlight of the evening was just so relaxing. Yet again I reflected on how lucky I was to enjoy such exhilarating riding in superb countryside.

  Wednesday 5 October 2016, 73 miles

  Stage 4: Campo to Sort ‒Hairpins, Hairpins and More Hairpins

  There are three roads out of Campo and each one goes uphill, so there’s no escaping a nice little climb to start the day and warm the legs. Rumour had it that today was going to be the hardest stage of the tour. The route profile showed four separate major climbs ahead. None looked especially steep; they were just quite long. Before starting I had to carry out a little bit of bike maintenance as I had noticed yesterday that my lowest gear wasn’t quite engaging, and from the noise I thought that the derailleur cage might have been just touching the spokes of my rear wheel. Not a situation that I wanted to take my chances with. A quick inspection confirmed that the derailleur mechanism was properly aligned, so it was simply a case of adjusting the cable tension and I was sorted. Phew! All this meant that I was the last of the Super Six to be ready for the off. But as ever the team were great and waited patiently for me.

  The climb out of Campo was on a wide main road at around 6‒8 per cent. Fortunately it was still quite cool so I didn’t have to endure the potentially sunstroke-inducing temperatures of yesterday afternoon. By the time I reached the top of the climb after about 5 miles I was fully warmed up and ready to go. A fast descent took us down to the Valle di Lierp before the second climb started. This was going to be the pattern for the day, long ascents followed by descents with virtually no flat terrain in between. The next ascent was the 10-mile climb to the Puerto de Bonansa which topped out at 4,500 feet. It was simply exhilarating as we climbed through the pine and oak forests. The lower slopes took us directly through some deep, narrow gorges and a series of spectacular cliffs creating a strong sense of being walled in. As we gained altitude the hillsides slowly opened out and we ascended by a series of hairpin bends resembling a ladder. Looking upwards at the road still to be climbed was quite daunting. Looking downwards was, by contrast, very satisfying and made me realise how much easier the twisting and turning hairpins had made the climb. Apart from the insides of the right-hand corners the gradient was never too steep. Emerging from the trees at the top of the climb we arrived at some high-elevation meadows. Just the spot for a team photo. And, if the ascent was great, then the descent was at least as good.

  Martyn and Amanda were waiting in a lay-by at the bottom of the descent with refreshments, which we were all enjoying until a rather large Mercedes pulled up. The front passenger door opened and a woman, in her sixties I judged, emerged. After looking pointedly at us, she threw up very noisily, looked pointedly at us again before getting back into the car, which then drove off. How charming!

  After the refreshment stop ‘entertainment’ we left Aragon, crossed into Catalonia and headed towards the third of the day’s main climbs, a doubleheader. The first part of the climb over the next 10 miles took us to the Port de Viu de Llevata at around 4,000 feet. Then it was a further 3 miles and another 400 feet to reach the Port de la Creu de Perves. Once again I filmed the climb, so I hope to be able to share some of the highlights when I get back home. As for the descent, well, what a thrill: 9 miles of totally exhilarating fun. I flew down, which for me as a wuss at descending, was quite a feat. It was a case of going flat out on the straights, slowing as little as possible for the hairpins, leaning hard over and letting the Impulso and gravity do their work. The key to success is to let the bike have its head rather than try to fight it.

  Sadly, all too soon the thrilling descent was over and we were back in the valley bottom heading for the last of the day’s climbs. This was a cheeky little number which took us over the shoulder of the Serra de Rulxou. Although the climb wasn’t too long (6 miles), nor very steep (4 per cent average gradient), coming at the end of a full day’s climbing meant it was nevertheless quite challenging. Another fast descent to Compte followed. This one was a bit more technical as the roa
d surface much was rougher, the bends were tighter and there was more oncoming traffic. On a road which is less than two car widths wide, where fast descending means using every square foot of the tarmac, and the absence of safety barriers between me and a drop of several hundred feet, the prospect of meeting an oncoming car or even a stationery cow certainly lifted my adrenalin levels.

  I managed to reach the valley at the base of the descent without incident, and then it was a fast blast along a busy road to our destination in the town of Sort. Along the way we passed a rider coming from the other direction who warned us of heavy rain ahead. Almost seconds later Vincenzo had a puncture. Once he had replaced his inner tube and we had got going again we discovered that we’d missed the rainstorm. The only evidence was a shiny road surface with some rear wheel spray. This was indeed another superb day in the Pyrenees. Could it get any better?

  By way of a postscript, the word ‘sort’ is Catalan for ‘luck’. Do you believe in coincidences? Now I almost do.

  Thursday 6 October 2016, 70 Miles

  Stage 5: Sort to Saillagouse ‒ The Big One

  Today was going to be a day of twos. Two quite different climbs and two countries. First up after leaving Sort was the Coll del Canto. This is a Category 1 climb that featured in this year’s Tour de France. It was also the climb that earlier this year Alberto Contador finally abandoned his Tour de France on, having crashed on a previous stage. El Canto is about 12 miles long and rises 3,396 feet at an average gradient of 6 per cent. The first part of the climb is probably the hardest in terms of steepness. Gradually, as height is gained, the gradient lessens. Either end of the climb features a series of hairpins which add to its splendour. The middle section is much less twisty.

  Leaving Sort, I immediately headed upwards, setting a pace that I hoped I could sustain for the next ninety or so minutes that I expected the climb to last. I rode at my own pace. Team Super Six don’t usually try to ride uphill in one group. Michael usually sets off at a faster pace and stays in front, as I think he may have ‘issues’ with the prospect of being anything other than the first in the team to summit a climb. Depending on how they are feeling, Geoff, Nick and Vince are evenly matched and often ride climbs together. Andy and I usually find ourselves together on the lower slopes and then, depending on how we are feeling, one or other of us might ease off the front, or even off the back. Today as I ascended I passed a few of the bigger group who had set off before Team Super Six. With a big climb like today’s I quite enjoy the solitude of the ride. Just me and the Impulso against the hill. Not that it’s a fight.

  As I rose ever upwards the views were spectacular: deep valleys with mist and low cloud clinging to the hillsides, with the mountain summits peeking out above. After about 40 minutes, visibility closed right down as I rode into the clouds. Now I could only see about 50 yards ahead. Riding in these silent conditions was quite an eerie experience and a little disconcerting as I had no real means of gauging the gradient in front of me. Fortunately, there was very little other traffic on the road. After about another 30 minutes I emerged from the clouds and could now see all around me again. Looking at my Garmin I estimated that I still had a couple of miles of riding to reach the top. I eventually reached the summit sign 1 hour and 33 minutes after setting off from Sort. I certainly knew that I had had a good workout; and a really enjoyable one. This was exactly why I had signed up to do this tour!

  After posing for some photos and a bit of banter once the Super Six had regrouped, it was time for the descent. As I’ve written before, I am usually a bit of a wuss at descending; I came off a few years ago and my confidence took a knock, as did some of my body parts. With an amazing bit of good luck I found my descending mojo today and was able to fly downhill ‒ well, ‘fly’ in my terms ‒ over the next 16 miles. With wide, smooth, dry roads I felt quite relaxed about going full gas. This was pure exhilaration, sweeping round the bends and hairpins using the full width of the road. All I really had to do was maintain a light touch on the brakes to scrub off some speed approaching the tighter hairpins, relax and let the bike do the work. Leaning into and out of the bends was fantastic and I felt in complete harmony with my Bianchi. This has to rank as one of my most enjoyable and exciting rides. Sadly it was all over too soon as I arrived at the support van for a welcome shot of caffeine. It had taken me close to 90 minutes to complete the 12-mile ascent. The 15-mile descent took about 35 minutes.

  Setting off again it was time for part two of the ride, and a totally different experience. In a nutshell, this was a 40-mile climb at an average gradient of 1.5 per cent all the way to the end of the stage. With a tailwind we seemed to fly along the Vall du Segre. Although the mountains were still high – we were about 10 miles south of Andorra – this was quite a wide valley so there was a much more open feel to the forested landscape we rode through.

  In seemingly no time at all we reached Puicerdà and were leaving Spain and crossing over the border into France and Borge Madame. There was little indication that we had crossed a national frontier and were in a different country. Looking over my shoulder I noticed a sign saying ‘España’; there was nothing to announce the arrival of La France.

  The next 6 miles to our destination at Saillagouse became a race against the weather. In a very short space of time the blue sky was replaced with dark grey, heavy, menacing clouds. The loss of the sun was accompanied by a sharp drop in temperature. Looking over my left shoulder towards the mountains I could see a storm approaching. There were lightning bolts and loud explosions of thunder crashing around the hillsides as the storm gradually headed towards me. This was very definitely not the time to be out in the open riding a metal-framed bike. I certainly didn’t want to put the insulating qualities of my Michelin tyres to the test. It was a race to the finish to avoid getting drenched and the Super Six all made it. Phew! Others on the tour weren’t so lucky.

  As our hotel appeared to be shut, we adjourned to a nearby brasserie to await the arrival of Martyn and Amanda. The hotel had already closed for winter and wasn’t offering any food on site. It had opened specially to provide us with a bed and a shower for the night. I subsequently discovered that the brasserie was linked to the hotel, and was where we had both our dinner and breakfast.

  Friday 7 October 2016, 103 Miles

  Stage 6: Saillagouse to Canet-en-Rousillon ‒ Mountains, Gorges and the Sea (C#47)

  I awoke early this morning at around 6am. Immediately I began to wonder what the day would bring. Sitting out yesterday afternoon’s storm in the bistro, when I had seen a snow plough heading up the road we would be riding in about two hours, as well as snow-covered cars coming down the other way, I was a tad concerned that we might be in for a tough and potentially dangerous ride. It was still pitch black when I slipped out of my bed to peer over the hotel balcony. Not even the silhouettes of the mountains were visible so I couldn’t tell if the snow was still there or not. All I knew was that it was very cold, as my breath formed dense vapour trails around me. I guessed that it was well below freezing.

  After about half an hour the tops of the mountains slowly appeared and I could just see that they were dusted with a light sprinkling of snow, rather like icing sugar on a sponge cake. Another good sign was that the sky seemed almost cloudless, so hopefully any frost on the road surface would have melted by the time we started riding. And slowly but surely the eastern sky grew lighter and lighter. Was it too much to hope for a clear, dry day on this, the final stage of our tour?

  By 7:30am I was dressed and heading across the village square to the brasserie for breakfast. Entering the brasserie for the third time I felt like a regular customer, especially as I received a very cheery ‘Bonjour’ from the owner, so I really did feel at home. And the excellent French breakfast – croissants with jam, pain au chocolat, fruit and strong black coffee ‒ were just what I needed to set myself up for the day ahead.

  With breakfast behind me I returned to the hotel,
packed and loaded my bag onto the van and retrieved my Impulso. After five days of riding it needed a bit of TLC so I gave the frame a thorough wipe-down, cleaned and oiled the chain, checked the gears were changing smoothly, inspected the brakes and put some air in the tyres. Then, emerging from the front of the hotel into the courtyard, I looked upwards and was treated to the sight of a clear blue sky with perfect visibility. I just knew this was going to be a good day, and possibly even a great day.

  One of the defining features of this tour has been how each day seems have been even better than its predecessors. Just when you think things can’t get any better, whether it is with the riding challenges or with the scenery, something new and breathtaking occurs. At this rate, I’m in danger of exhausting my vocabulary of superlatives!

  The profile for today’s final stage was totally different to the previous five stages. In a nutshell it started with a climb of around 3,500 feet over the first 10 miles, followed by a descent of 8,000 feet over the next 80 miles. With a total distance of 92 miles, the team had suggested that we ride on at the end so that I could complete another century in my Sixty Centuries Series. This seemed like a great idea, and for me it would be fabulous to ride it with some good friends. Completing a century with the Super Six would be very special indeed. Well, enough of this blether. What about the ride?

  We clipped in and headed upwards out of Saillagouse. Already the road surfaces were drying in the sun, so frost was unlikely to be a consideration. As we gradually climbed upwards we could see the mountains on our right swathed in bands of cotton wool white cloud. Yet again, the views were spectacular and it was quite an effort to avoid stopping continuously to take photos. Eventually we reached the top of the climb and after a short flat stretch we pulled over at a small information centre to enjoy a round of espressos and celebrate the completion of our last major climb of the tour.