Formerly pavement ended at the border, a kilometer from the top, where the surface reverted to baseball sized gravel. This stretch is paved now as are some of the turns on the south side. The view at the summit exposes a greater panorama than the altitude might suggest, in addition to stone roadhouses that served travelers before the turn of the century. Huge fortifications, some of which were part of the Maginot line, stand empty as sentinels of history. I was reminded of how natural tunneling is to all of Italy, a mountainous country, where maps reveal endless black dotted lines (tunnels) of railways that seldom see light. In the USA we marvel at bores like the Moffat in the Rockies.
Today the ancient harsh roadbed of the Tenda pass is gradually being covered by asphalt, a few curves at a time. Historic photographs of animal teams, steam tractors, and solid tired chain driven trucks that traveled this road, make today's "hardships" pale in comparison. The south side is still mostly the 19th century road, steep and with more than sixty loose surfaced hairpin turns that make tight going even for a jeep. We made our way carefully down the deeply rutted turns into the rocky gorge of the Roya river where we joined the swift curves of the Tende highway, French Rt N204 at the south portal of the tunnel.
At Vievola the railway emerges from its tunnel only to vanish into a loop tunnel followed by many bridges as it descends to Tende (816m). We stopped for lunch here and visited an ATM for French money before coasting down the Roya canyon through the vertical and overhanging walls of the Soarge Gorge. We could barely make out the road to the town of Soarge as it bores trough cliffs high above, and whose tunnels have few windows to reveal the route. Soarge is a linear cluster of houses glued to cliffs so that some have more than a hundred meter freefall from their windows.
After St Dalmas, just before Breil (286m), we turned west on Rt D2204 up the Col de Brauis (879m). We climbed under threatening skies, and as we approached the roadside spring under the willows 2/3 of the way up, the rains came. We put on out jackets at the spring while four motorcyclists did likewise. The landscape here is Mediterranean with sparse vegetation, olive trees and leafless broom (gorse) blooming bright yellow and giving off a sweet smell. Our favorite two cherry trees were not doing well and had little to offer due to hailstorms.
We descended to Sospel where the rain turned to a drizzle and finally stopped as we arrived. We took pictures of the old stone arch bridge over the Bevera, reminiscent of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence with its collage of buildings. We dropped in on the great ice cream store and bar at the junction of the Brauis, Braus, and Turini where we ordered hot chocolate for a change. The innkeeper, who always greets us as though we were real regulars, told us that the shop has been in the family for several generations. When we suggested that it was about time he visit SF, he said it was in his plans. I gave him my address and hope to see him here some time soon.
We rode north up the valley on Rt D70 to the Turini pass (1607m) that figures prominently in the Monte Carlo Automobile Rallye. The climb starts gradually as the road heads into the ever narrower rocky canyon of the Bevera before it passes through the monastery of Notre Dame de Menour that straddles the road at a high narrows of the canyon. From here the road is fairly flat through Moulinet, after which it stays mostly in shade of a pine forest to the summit. It was raining as we came out of the forest at the summit, so we put on our jackets before the descent to the Vesubie river. Part way down, where the road comes out of the trees, a panorama opens with the walled village of la Bollene-Vesubie perched picturesquely on a knoll in the foreground amid the hills of olives, gorse, and golden grass.
We joined Rt D2565 at the Vesubie and climbed gradually to St Martin (930m), a pleasant town before the narrows at the foot of the Col St Martin or Colmain (1500m). Having found the Hotel des Tres Ponts comfortable last year, we gave it another round. This time the hotel kitchen was operating so we ate in their restaurant that turned out to be excellent. During the night it rained so hard, the sound of splashing drops obscured the sound of the rushing water down a stone flume in the center of the street. That, the lightning flashes and thunder made it a wonderful night.
The final descent to the Tinee and Rt D220, traverses rugged rock walls where the river appears to be directly beneath as the road passes through bare rock tunnels connected by bridges. We turned south down the Tinee to its confluence with the Var where we turned west on Rt N202 parallel to the Chemin de Fer de Province, a vestige of a large meter gauge rail network that once served the region from Marseilles to Nice. I chose this route to see the Gorge du Cains to Beuil (1435m) and Valberg (1829m) that I last saw on my 1960 tour. I recalled the dark narrows of this defile of which I have only one fuzzy picture for lack of light for my ASA "zero" Kodachrome of those days.
We were not disappointed because the Petite and Grande Clue had remained unchanged, a tunnel having been built through the wall leaving the old route notched into the stone as in ancient times and open to non motor traffic. From Valberg we took the "back" road, Rt D28, that descends next to a huge steep rocky riverbed of boulders, to Guillaumes (819m) in the Var valley, where we ate a pizza lunch indoors while it rained intermittently.
We enjoyed the cloudy weather as we continued up the Var on the practically empty Rt D202, on the way to the Col de la Cayolle. The "temporary" Bailey bridges at St. Martine d'Entraunes (1260m) over the Var looked just as permanent as they did 37 years ago. Here we stopped for a late afternoon food stop before stopping for the day farther up at Entraunes (the sleepy village at the foot of the Col de Cayolle (2327m) and the Parc National du Mercantour, a nature preserve with wildflowers instead of ski lifts, hotels, and kiosks.
We ate lunch at the market in Jausiers before heading north through Condamine where we have often stopped for the day. We passed the great cliff fortifications and the Col d'Larche (1991m), where most traffic turned off to Cuneo and our road got smaller. We passed St Paul sur Ubaye (1470m) at the foot of the Col de Vars (2111m). We bought postcards and a soda at the old sheet metal shack on the summit that was already decrepit in 1960 when I first saw it. The same people still run the concession today. The new hotel and snack bar that just opened last year or so, had burned to the ground since last year and wasn't making any signs of renewal. After a short descent, a panorama opened to the north, up the Durance river toward Briancon and Guillestre (1000m) far below in the foreground.
We rode right through Guillestre and headed into the narrow canyon of the Guil river toward the Izoard pass, climbing gradually along the crags in and out of bare rock tunnels. Two belly rafters came downstream in the raging whitewater before we reached the junction at Chateau Queyeras, where our route D902 takes a sharp left up the Riviere valley while the road to the Colle dell'Agnello (2758m) goes straight. We arrived in Arvieux (1544m) at the grocery store in time for a mid afternoon snack to take us over the pass.
At Brunissard the road, that was under construction last year, had beautifully smooth pavement but was still steep as an Austrian road. It began to rain harder as we climbed the series of long traverses to the false summit from which we could make out the obelisk at the top. We took pictures at the Coppi monument, before riding up the second climb to the top of the Col d'Izoard (2361m). The museum of bicycle racing memorabilia from the Tour de France was closed but we weren't in the mood to hang around in the downpour anyway. We were already thinking dinner and the Hotel des Glaciers on the Col du Lauteret.
The rain let up as we descended to Briancon (1391m) where we rolled through town and up Rt N91 with its gradual slope at 4% to 5% to the Col du Lauteret (2095m). The valley was wet, with curtains of rain hiding the mountains but it's not far and the bike was rolling well. As we rounded the last turn to the summit and headed for the Hotel du Glaciers our jaws dropped at the sight of a full parking lot and the grand dining room full of celebrating people.
We asked for a room at the desk and were told the hotel was full, so after giving it a thought, I asked to talk to Monsieur Bonnabel (the owner operator). When Domenic came down from the wedding party he looked at us casually and said, "oh yes, the Americans, they have a reservation" so that the staff could hear. We went to our room and discovered that the hotel was essentially empty, from which I deduced that the staff had probably been told they could close the hotel and concentrate on the wedding and dining room and that the "oh they have a reservation" was an excuse to not turn us away. It is at moments like this, that one appreciates good friends. I have been stopping there since 1960 and have known the Bonnabels for years.
There were bits of old snow drifts near the summit, making the road perpetually wet as the snowmelt ran across the road. The wind was in our favor, so we rolled easily down the broad curves to Plan Lachat. Much of this section is visible from the summit and is a common scene in TV reports of the Tour de France. The grade is good for about 60km/h if you hurry, but this is often translated "accidentally" to 60mph by sports commentators. Today with accurate digital speedometers, the truth is out, but that hasn't affected reporting.
From Valloire (1430m), the road gradually climbs a mild but significant rise to the Telegraph (1570m), a Roman signal station and early French fortress that commands a clear view up and down the Maurienne valley of the Arc river. From the Telegraph, the road descends with many hairpin turns in a pine forest to St Michel (712m) where it joins Rt N6. On the way down we stopped for a photo opportunity and came upon a couple from the USA who were making a video of their ascent of the Galibier. The cameraman turned to me and said "you must be Jobst Brandt", and told me he could recognize me from my writings on the internet. I'm not sure what I wrote that enabled him to recognize me with such certainty, but it seems to be in there.
After lunch in a small restaurant in St Michel, we headed up the valley toward Modane (1057m), the portal of the Frejus road and railway tunnels. Above Modane, in the valley at la Bourget, we passed the supersonic wind tunnel that seems out of place, there being no airstrip nearby. The road levels off high above the narrows at Avrieux, where buses had unloaded their tourists who were admiring the huge fortress that covers most of the cliffs that surround the gorge of the Arc while the Pont du Diable, a spindly suspension foot bridge that spans the chasm, makes it look even more threateningly deep.
At Lanslebourg (1399m), where the Col du Mont Cenis (2083m) heads south to Torino, we turned north up the Col du Madeleine (1746m), a short steep bump on Rt D902 to the high valley of the Arc. Here the rain that had pounded us below gradually let up. This beautiful nearly flat valley, with side valleys to the east that expose views of glacier covered peaks, ends at Bonneval sur Arc (1783m). It was after six o'clock and the climb would take about two hours with a one hour descent to reasonable overnight lodging, so we stopped here rather than attempt a wet and possibly snowy climb.
We took pictures at the Iseran summit (2770m) where we sat on the large concrete and stone road sign that looks a bit weathered, especially through the snow that was heavier now. The weather seemed to think we had had enough of a good thing and began snowing hard as we put away the cameras and headed down to Val d'Isere (1840m) where there were fewer tourists than I have seen in a long time. Rolling right through town, we climbed the little bump to the first of the series of tunnels down to the Lac du Chevril (2000m) dam, after which the descent becomes steep, finally leveling out before Seez (920m), at the junction of Rt D902 and Rt N90 to the Col du Petit St Bernard (2188m) and Aosta. We ate lunch in Seez with good wine and cheese in a restaurant that I had discovered a few years ago. It serves lunch mostly to truck drivers and has its menu on a blackboard on the wall.
We rode down to Bourg St Maurice (840m), where we turned north up the road to the Cormet de Roselend (1968m) on Rt D217. On the climb we had a trace of rain that faded out as we passed Les Chapieux (1552m) where it seemed that the Col de la Seigne (2516m) off to the east beneath Mont Blanc was probably fairly dry. Looking for adventure, we turned around and rolled down to the little store in the Pack station in Les Chapieux for a little sustenance and headed up the one lane road that climbs to the end of the valley. We turned south crossing the creek to the trail that heads up the Seigne and began hiking.
In spite of its steepness, the trail was wet and mucky in places because a large party with burros had gone up that morning, their tracks and ski pole marks being fresh. As we waded through the small streams that were raging with fresh snowmelt, I thought how unpleasant crossing these rushing ice water obstacles must have been for the hikers who got their leather boots and wool socks soaked. For us it just washed the mud off our legs and cleaned our bike shoes. At the rate we were working, the ice water was pleasant.
The trail passed a stone-hut pack station that seemed to be operating, judging from smoke from its chimney and hand lettered advertising signs. Farther up we passed a small electric fence corral with about eight or ten burros busily munching the lush grass. We headed up the mountain in a light rain and fog, so we couldn't make out where the top was or where the trail continued above. In any case, as the rain turned to snow and I noticed we had a long way to climb, I recalled that the summit was closer to 2630m than the 2360m I had assumed.
As we got higher we met with deeper snow where we had to stay on the compacted track to avoid sinking in. As we carried our bikes up the steeper parts, we saw three hikers ahead who were well equipped with parkas, back packs, and ski poles. At the same time two burrows with empty pack frames appeared out of the swirling snow ahead, stopping first at the hikers and then coming down to us while giving us the once-over. After sniffing around a bit, the first donkey turned to the other and in anthropomorphic manner said "these jerks don't have any food, let's get the hell out of here" and with great disdain detoured around us sinking deep in the snow. We trudged by the hikers who casually greeted us with "bonjour" as we vanished up the slope into the falling snow that had become dense enough to make following the track difficult.
The snow let up at the summit, at about 2560m, enough to expose the French-Italian border pillar and orientation plate at the pass (2516m) below. There was no sign that anyone had taken that route because there was a snow cornice in the gap that made it inadvisable to cross there. Our trail broke into a high and low track, that traversed the hip of the pass in thin snow, on the way down toward Rifugio Elisabetta (2035m), where we reached a ridable but rocky trail again. It seems this was the hikers destination and that the burros had been unpacked without feeding. A kick in the ass, so to speak, sent them back alone to where they knew they could find food.
The jeep trail to the hut was still covered with snow with a narrow edge where we could ride until we got to the flatlands below the huge glacial debris that lies at the foot of Monte Bianco. The road was in miserable shape, being covered in land slide debris or completely pushed aside by slides. The road got better as we reached civilization in the Val Veni, but to make up for that it was plastered with "bicycling prohibited" signs to prevent city folk from driving up there, putting their children on bicycles and sending them down the 16% grade. We descended to La Saxe (1223m) and rode up the equally steep opposite side into the Val Ferret to Planpincieux (1579m) where we found a comfortable hotel in which we were the only guests except a contingent of police who came in for dinner. It rained all night.