La Planche des Belle Filles

A week after taking on the Galibier I found myself tackling an even tougher climb, La Planche des Belle Filles in the Vosges.  It will be the finish for the sixth stage of this year’s Tour, and if form holds true whoever is in Yellow after this killer climb will win The Race, as has been the case the three other times it has been a stage finish.

The first time was in 2012 when Bradley Wiggins became the first Brit to win The Tour.  He didn’t win that stage, though he was wearing the Yellow Jersey. His teammate Christopher Froome, more of a climbing specialist, won it in somewhat humiliating fashion, looking over his shoulder to see if Wiggins could keep up with him, as he was supposed to be leading him up the climb.  Two years later Vincenzo Nibali was first up the climb while wearing Yellow and maintained it to Paris.  The last time the climb made an appearance was in 2017, Froome’s fourth Tour win.  I’ve been on the scene for all of them,  but had never had the time or energy to make that final climb to the finish of the stage, so was glad to finally have the opportunity to experience it.

The climb peaks out at only 3,766 feet at a minor ski resort,  but the grades are much steeper than the Galibier, starting at 10.5 per cent, steeper even than the opening ramp  up L’Alpe d’Huez, and finishing off with a stretch of  22 per cent.  This forest-encased climb took an all-out, leg-busting effort.

I was riding along with a couple thousand others, all wearing Lycra astride light weight racing bikes with a number on their bike for this group event.  Friends of the participants were scattered along the route with a mob at the finish under an arch where all the registered riders were handed a medal.  I’m not sure where they started, probably somewhere in Belfort, a city of 50,000, fifteen miles from the steepest final three-and-a-half miles.  It was a gradual climb all the way.  Once the road turned nasty many were sprawled along the road or were reduced to walking.   

Those who had some energy to spare gave me a thumbs up or a gasped endorsement of “Super” or “C’est bien” or “Chapeau” or a few other of the accolades the French disperse including that most unique to them, a simple “Respect.”  That goes in a country where philosophical intercourse is inbred, where alongside “People” type magazines in the supermarket are magazines of philosophy. One encounters a greater degree of intellect and humanity than elsewhere.  It is a country that provides pianos in train stations for people to play and has television shows in prime time Friday nights with pundits discussing books.  Respect is something the French are looking to grant and when they offer it they mean it.  To be the recipient is always touching.

Even with grades nearly double those of the Galibier, I was feeling stronger than I had a week ago.  I wasn’t passing anybody, other than those off their bikes, but I maintained a good steady pace and got up that 22 per cent grade, though with a little tacking.  I’d managed the 18 per cent finish on Flèche Wallon a few years ago, so knew it was within my capabilities on a loaded bike.  My legs are coming around.  Now I need to start increasing my mileage, as I have kept it under 75 miles a day so far since this block of training started two weeks ago.  It’s four weeks until The Tour starts.  I’m confident I’ll be ready for those day-long stints of one hundred miles and more.

The steeper stretches had me standing on the pedals.  I had just been listening to Bobby Julich’s daily podcast during the Tour of California.  He had been commenting that when one stands on the pedals, their heart rate goes up as a whole new set of muscles are recruited for the effort.  He was right about that, but it was still within a tolerable range.

Julich is new to the VeloNews podcast.  He has a vast store of anecdotes and great breadth of knowledge, having finished third in the 1998 Tour de France as well as winning Paris-Nice and an Olympic medal.  He now works as a personal coach after stints coaching for Sky and CSC and was continually dispensing insightful advice and observations on what the riders were doing, right and wrong.

He mentioned that former World Record holder and Yellow Jersey wearer Chris Boardman was the most considerate roommate he ever had.  When he got up at night to take a leak, he tried not to disturb him, so sat on the toilet to diminish the sound of his urine.  He now lives eight minutes from George Hincapie in South Carolina and rides regularly with him and Christian Vande Velde, who feature in his recollections.

If he continues to podcast during The Tour, that will be another podcast I’ll have to listen to after every stage along with those of Armstrong and Wiggins and the Warren brothers and one by the BBC and Cycling Tips and the grandfather of them all, The Telegraph with a trio of first-rate  British journalists (Moore/Friebe/Birnie) with contributions from an Italian and French journalist.  They all add great luster and insight into the racing and complete my full immersion into The Race.

I got my first dose of more than faint Tour fervor in Chalon-sur-Saône, the stage seven Ville Arrivée, the day after La Planche des Belle Filles.  The city of 47,000 had decorations everywhere.  It’s city hall was adorned with a banner across it and two more wrapped around columns. A digital clock counted down the days.  The vast plaza in front of it was adorned with bikes painted green and white.  Throughout the city strings of mini-flags of Tour jerseys hung over the route the peloton will follow to its finish along the Saône River.  And bike sculptures turned up here and there.  I was happy to drift around the city soaking it all in.  This is what I come to France for.

All that Belfort, where the stage would start, had to show for itself was a mini-monument with a digital clock at the stage start by the city’s enclosed market.  I was a week late to Belfort for its Fête du Tour ride, which Mâcon was having this weekend.  I was riding hard to reach Belfort to arrive before its tourist office closed to find out if there was a ride the next day.  Rather than riding out of the sprawling city to find a place to camp I took advantage of its municipal campground, not wanting to overcook my legs knowing La Planche awaited me.

That was a good choice, as I arrived at the campground at the same time as a French cyclist, so we were able to share a campsite.  He had left his home town along the Mediterranean west of Montpellier and was headed to Copenhagen.  Ten years ago, he and his wife had spent six months bicycling around South America on a tandem, starting in Buenos Aires, looping over to Lima via Tierra del Fuego and Patagonia, a route I knew well.  He’d been able to take off for so long as he’d lost his job during the economic downturn and with no work available in his field decided to take a dream bike trip.  He’d recently retired and could take another long ride while his wife continued to work.

I’d had a most sociable day, as earlier I’d met a couple from Idaho riding Surleys with disc brakes who’d flown into Barcelona and were headed to the Ukraine.  They didn’t have a return ticket, as they didn’t know when or where they would end up, but knew they could get a cheap flight home on Norwegian Air.  They too were of the older set and veteran touring cyclists.  Their favorite trip had been through Scandinavia into the Arctic to the Nordcap, the northernmost point in Europe in Norway.  They generally camped wild.  The Frenchman did occasionally, but preferred camping with amenities. All would have made agreeable traveling companions if we’d been going in the same direction.   

The cycling has been as sensational as ever, no rain other than a couple of nights while camping, sunny, warm days and roads with little traffic, especially in the Vosges, among the reasons I told Jerome McDonnell that France was my favorite place to cycle.  The interview has drawn a considerable number of readers to the blog, some who even sought out my post on the first Carnegie library in Texas I visited that I mentioned in the interview.  It’s more about a dog who gave chase and the rare ornery librarian who oversaw the library, but still emphasizes its grandeur.  It can be found here:

http://georgethecyclist.blogspot.com/2005/11/comanche-texas.html