| The first weekend in Turin I did a circuit which is known as
the Giro di Quattro Colli (sp?) - the tour of four passes.
Various wags had claimed this was doable in a single day
... which I doubted, though at the time I did not have my aero
seatpost to speed things along. Perhaps now...
It turns out to be 400km if you start from Turin (200m):
-> Cuneo (534m)
-> Colle della Maddalena (1996m) ... alias Col de Larche
-> Col de Vars (m)
-> Col d'Izoard (2360m)
-> Col de Montgen�vre (1854m)
-> Colle de Sestriere (2054m) ... optional 5th pass
-> Turin (200m).
The first 60 miles (100km) were relatively flat, blest with the
autumnal fog that draws people to the capital of the Piemonte. :-)
There are two main roads to Cuneo, the foot of the climb. On
one map (the Michelin) one road looks more major than the other,
but that's a delusion. Anyway, traffic was not nasty, just abundant.
Over the fog as it burnt off one could view high, snow-capped
mountains beyond the plain - mountains guaranteed to make one's
knees creak in only a few hours.
I bypassed Cuneo by staying north of the river on the Vignolo
road - but it's also no big deal to go through Cuneo. Cuneo
means "wedge" in Italian - and it is a strategic wedge in the
confluence of two rivers.
The climb on the SS21 from Cuneo was gradual at first, no big
deal. Some of the pavement ("roadway" for Britons) is rough,
but bearable. Some small villages. I'd stocked up with food
upon reaching Cuneo at noon, knowing that post-noon on Saturday
is a long-duration siesta in Italy. The climb to the Colle della
Maddalena never becomes intensely terrible - it is just a good climb.
There is not a lot of traffic on this road. The scenery is pretty
good, not magnificent. The border station had been turned into
a sort of refuge/caf� with some benign pacifistic affiliation.
I had a cup of coffee, and tried speaking both French and Italian,
with equal success (it didn't matter). Outside, the neighborhood
burros nibbled at my bike. I think they run the place. The actual
border house is closed, as with many minor Alpine passes between
Italy and France.
I descended into France with an Austrian who had climbed up the
French side. Idle chatter when our speeds matched. Halfway down
the descent (to Barcellonette) I made a sharp right to climb the
second pass of the day, the Col de Vars.
This is a stiffer climb, with rough surface, real switchbacks, one
of which goes through a half-deserted village. The wind was against
me, out of the north, and the old metabolism was faltering, it
now being 6pm or so. Time for a windbreaker and chocolate. As
I crawled up to the actual pass, there was a bearded rough-and-ready
French bike tourist about to descend, so we exchanged notes. As
with the archetypal tourist, he was excruciatingly well outfitted,
all the right gear, but all of it looked as if it had 50,000 miles
on it, and about 10 years of sun.
I stopped for postcards in the bar of the pass - fortunately, they
took lire, and the warm interior got the blood flowing. Then the
surprisingly chilling descent to the village of Vars - which is
a ski resort, and hence had virtually no accomodations open in
September. I did find the one, a luxus (bath in your room) two-star
affair. Most ingratiating, though, was the proprietor, who stored
my bike in a shed out back which contained a highly chromed steep-
angled racing bike (presumably his) - so at least I was in good
company. That was neatly at mile 125 (200km).
-------
Next morning after breakfast I asked for a newspaper, and the
proprietor knew what for without asking - namely, as insulation
for the (rest of the) descent. Newspaper remains the de rigeuer
bicyclist's insulation in the Alps, I think. (I later glanced at
the paper, and found it made better insulation than reading.)
All this descending, through some pretty nice mountain views of
the fortress of Guillestre and its backdrop of mountains, was
just preparatory to climbing out of Guillestre to the Col d'Izoard.
Like the Col de Vars, it is on the Route des Alpes, which extends
from Geneva to the Riviera, a fairly straight route - straight over
the highest Alpine passes in Europe.
For me the Col d'Izoard was tough. There are some switchbacks out
of Guillestre (no big deal), up a gorge, then a straight, steep
stretch through a couple of villages. I stopped at one, bought
and ate a large blueberry tarte (specialty of the region) and then
up the real switchbacks which are probably 15-16% on a conifer-
enclosed almost one-track lane - peaceful but strenuous. For the
final part of the climb, you break out into bare cliffs and rockface,
cycling between giant erosion-produced cones maybe five stories
high. This is very picturesque. The Tour de France likes this
area, by the way. At the summit, which has a tribute to the Italian
cycling champion Fausto Coppi, in brilliant, burning, chill sun,
I spoke with a Frenchman and a German (they were talking with each
other in English), then descended to Brian�on, against a wave of
straggling Sunday bike-club riders of all ages and ilks. Somehow
this doesn't sound like a typical bike-club outing in Charlotte,
climbing the Col d'Izoard.
The ascent over the Col de Montgen�vre was fine - it's handy to
have a mirrow, so you can glance back at the huge fortress of Brian�on
which guards the pass and the valley. The mountains have red and
purple stone which lend a cold air to the place, and the Italian
side is especially rocky and desolate. At the border, the police
were friendly as usual, but asked the eternal question, "Est-ce
que c'est un retroviseur?" ("Is that a rear-view mirror?") They
were quite intrigued. I now know the word for "mirror" in many
languages.
I took a back road, the old road, I think - a long, gradual climb,
rather than a tumultuous steep one suitable for V8's - but still
10% or so - to the Colle de Sestriere, at another ski resort. By
now it was overcast and chilly. I couldn't tell whether that was
a change in the weather or in the country. The Po valley hazes and
fogs over at the drop of a hat in the autumn (as I've implied).
The traffic from there to Turin was one corpuscular flow of cars,
quite a change from the wild-west devoid-of-humanity wasteland of
the remote French Alps. It was 2000m net loss of altitude to Turin,
but I had no time to lose, so set to it. I took the SS23 via Pinerolo,
not the biggest road, but still busy. At Pinerolo the road forked
"<-Pinerolo | Torino->" so naturally I opted for "Torino" which
turned out to be an expressway bypass, but I guess that was ok -
there was an old guy on a 1-speed bike on the road, and I did make
good time. Beyond that, now definitely on the flats, the road turned
ruler-straight, lined with elms (?) at close proximity, and
white-painted trunks. I'm told this can be hypnotizing at bicycling
speed. Hmmm... The slowest part was the final stretch wending
across rail lines, tram lines, and cobbles on the outskirts of Turin.
Recommendations: as you'll see in succeeding installments, if I write
them, I love the high French Alps. They are difficult and deserted
- both qualities attractive to the obsessive cyclist. The Po valley
is not deadly, and I'd do this circuit once, but would try to avoid
wading through that much flatland and traffic on a regular basis.
(If you did not start the circuit from Turin, you could go straight
from Pinerolo to Cuneo, by the way, skirting the mountains.)
ciao,
-john
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- Colle di Tende - Col du Larche -
My second Torinese weekend in September 1988 ...
Saturday, 6am, twilight, driving through the pea-soup fog of the Plane of Po
from Turin to Cun�o, at the edge of the Alps. (Biking this would have been
soggy suicide.) From Cun�o, with the sun breaking through, straight up
to the Colle di Tende, cheerful Alpine scenery, and sparkling Alpine villages
(even though they were in Italy :-) ) ... notably Limone, where I stocked up
on pastries for the arduous climbs ahead. Flag-paved curvy steep streets on
the mountainside, almost Austrian.
The highway, the SS-20, takes a tunnel under the Colle di Tende - a narrow,
unlighted, two-lane tunnel. The border police sensibly stated that the
tunnel was prohibited to cyclists. How to cross, then? "Autostop," they
said. (Hitchhiking.) Ok, while I pondered this, I went and changed some
money, pointed to the unsurfaced pass-road (which you could *see* by craning
your neck upward several hundred meters above the tunnel entrance), and to
its representation on my map. The cambiari (I just made up this word to
denote people who change money) said I would wreck my bike on that road.
In fact, I learned the word for "wreck" in several languages ("ecrass�"
comes to mind, also several occurrences of the word "basta!").
Now it was almost noon, and I knew that trucks were prohibited from Italian
highways after noon on Saturday. So I crossed my fingers (before the tunnel
entrance) and waited in the cheery, beckoning sun. Many, many smallish,
diminutive European cars passed - economy models, luxus models, but none
where a bike would fit. Finally a small French pickup truck stopped, and
willingly took me through the tunnel (interested in my route, etc.). It
was corrugated-looking, so it must have been a Citro�n.
Got good photos of the pass-road from the French side, including abandoned
fortresses and farms. They said the road had been severely cratered in WW2.
Technicals: neither side of the Colle di Tende (Col de Tende) is back-breaking.
The scenery is pleasant. Even though this is a "direct" route between Nice
and Turin, the road is often calm because drivers take the Autobahn instead.
The pass tunnel is at 1280m, the cratered pass-road at 1871m. Cun�o (24km
downhill) is at 534m.; Tende (12.5km downhill on the French side) is at 815m.;
Ventim�glia (57km downhill) is at sea level, on the Mediterranean.
I took one side-valley on the way down, after pix of the picturesque village
of Tende, very stucco, very Italianesque though French. The side trip was
to N.D. des Fontaines (Our Lady of the Fountains), a nice fresco-decorated
chapel, which was occupied at that moment by many people who had disgorged
from a huge tourbus with Italian plates. But it was serene and pastoral
and contemplative nevertheless. A west side-valley from near Tende will
take you to the Vall�e des Merveilles, which, according to the postcards
I bought in Tende, is truly marvelous, but only for hikers. If I had the
time and the shoes, I'd give a shot for sure. It looks highly barren,
glaciated, and unearthly.
From there I "descended" to Sospel (via a 500-meter climb to the Col de Brouis,
at 879m.!), curiously situated at a confluence of streams, with bridges,
some turrets I recall, and little shops (where French pastries replenished
my dwindling Italian supply). The landscape here is moderately arduous,
scruffy Mediterranean hills, hazy weather, you feel hot but chilled at
the same time. Lots of quiet, though.
From Sospel (349m.) northward to the Col de Turini (1607m.), a long, long
climb, through wooded areas and reddish/yellowish stone, passing N.D. de Menour,
a chapel built on an escarpment which you can see from quite a ways (and for
quite a while, at least given the slow mph I was doing up this hill), perched
as if in space, between two rockfaces.
The Col de Turini is wooded, often misty it seems, with rustic-looking
villas and lodges. This whole area is not that far from Nice (maybe 50km),
and a convenient day-trip or weekend retreat. The descent from Turini has
good views, rockfaces breaking through the forest - the early evening sun
was playing on them - and plenty of speedy stretches between the switchbacks!
A final climb to St. Martin/V�subie, a sizable town and resort. The man
at the small supermarket pointed me to the Hotel des �trangers, perhaps
because I looked strange, I don't know. It is a traditional old French
inn, which means there was a kindly but not voluble elderly French lady
in charge, watching television in the salon. She let me have a room, but
I had to be back (from dinner) by 9pm, so that I wouldn't be locked out.
I walked up the 12% flagstoned grade of the village path in my cleats
(a minimal-baggage outing, this) - these walking alleys are neat and clean,
with a stone "ditch" carrying a stream of water through their center...
picturesque, but tough going in cleats. The first restaurant was built
out of a cellar, rustic but by no means rough. I pointed to my lycra attire
questioningly, but they were very warm and welcoming, and I had a good
meal there, nouvelle cuisine to judge by the portions, but a fine dining
experience, with friendly words from the chef.
Breakfast (compris) at the Strangers' Hotel also included conversational
accompaniment - I learned quite a lot about the region, the lady's family,
and the history of the last 3 decades, considering only one word in five
got through my understanding unscathed. I was at that season the only
guest, and so had the lady's undivided attention. It was a nice touch.
The start of the day involved several "invigorating" climbs, through
pine woods, past chalets, and then descending, westward into the gorges
for which the Alpes-Maritimes are famous. These were in the valley of
the Tin�e, again almost a straight shot to Nice. The river is sizable,
but the road hugs a cliff cut out of rock (and numerous tunnels, one at
each hairpin turn) far above the river. At many tunnel points there are
gun-turrets left over from WW2... pointing southward, I believe. Much of
the rock is a purplish/blood red. I climbed the Tin�e from around 480m.
to Isola at 873m. where I then forked up the Vallon du Chastillon past
Isola 2000 (the ski resort built at about 2000m., a vast ghost-town in
September - especially ghostly to someone seeking water!).
The climb from Isola has long 10% stretches, some through rockface "narrows".
The road criss-crosses the valley on bridges, as if to confound the
earth-goddess (Gaia?). You can look to the opposite rockface in places
and see where the old road didn't cross, and has been since largely buried
in rockslides. Hmmmm...
This climb gets you to the Col du Larche (Colle di Lombarda) at 2351m.
Past Isola 2000, the road, which 'til that point has been a newly-paved full
two-lane blacktop (for the ski trade) becomes the historical single track
(paved) lane... and continues this way over the (unguarded) pass and all down
the Italian side. I *think* I prefer climbing the French side, descending
the Italian. The rougher pavement on the Italian side would impede climbing...
but for fast daredevils, the wide smooth pavement on the French side would
be great for descents!
At the pass there are great views! Take time to stop. Like other high
passes in this region (Col de la Bonnette, Col du Galibier, etc.) you see
a horizon of jagged points, and in the middle ground only a jumble of
mountains in dark earth tones, devoid, completely devoid of vegetation ...
lunar mountains. In the foreground (at your feet) are meadows of tundra.
And like many passes here, it is a quiet place much of the year, certainly
in September. I descended this lane above and to the side of a picturesque
steep valley - you can look across the the valley to Sant. di Santa Anna,
a small chapel or abbey (Matt?) perched on a bluff. You can look down
the valley through telescoped perspective, from your Alpine heights, into
the purplish haze of the Italian lowlands. The road intersects the SS-21
(which goes over the Colle della Maddalena) at the village of Vin�dio, whence
it is just a downhill coast to Cun�o.
I can check the mileage but I believe both days peaked at under 100 miles.
It's certainly feasible in two days, with lots of time to look around.
-john
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