Late Season Miles in France Days 1&2

Just before last month’s Thanksgiving holiday, Ben, Ian, Andrew and I met up in Nice, France to scratch a late season road riding itch. Our goals were simple: exploit the warmth of Southern France in November while maximizing our 96 hours in the area by exploring a variety of terrain in a part of the country where the mountains meet the sea, maintain our base fitness with rides at a brisk yet conversational pace, and eat/drink as well as possible every day.

We are happy to report that we met or exceeded each of our goals, and in rereading the following notes from our four day foray into the Alps Maritime, one thing is clear: we only scratched the surface.

Prologue: Nice is a Mess
It’s shocking just how crowded it is in one of France’s most famed destinations.
In this area of the country, being close to the ocean is a huge priority so every square meter is covered by human construction, regardless of how steep the terrain is. Most impressively, many of the roads and buildings have existed for over 200 years, originating in a time when humans and their vehicles were much smaller. Streets are tiny, parking areas even smaller, and street-clogging traffic exists almost all day long, even in November. It’s tough to imagine this town in August (think Hamptons chic meets the human-on-human Jenga stack of Hong Kong).

Day 1
The planned ride out of Nice was an easy 60k or so spin up Col de Braus followed by a descent into Sospel and a climb back out over the Col de Castillon, down to Menton and a relaxed spin-out along the Mediterranean sea back to Nice through Monaco.

It turns out that, given the logistical challenges of Nice (see prologue), our day would start at 1pm instead of the scheduled 11am departe.  This meant that we would have to cut the planned route relatively short in order to be on our way home before the low autumn sun dipped fully below the peaks to the west — a daily event that begins no later than 4:30pm.

After negotiating the traffic and “rond points” (AKA roundabouts) and determining the difference between the D2204 (true departmental road) and the D2204B (autobon-like parkway) we were on our way to the first official summit of the day, the modest Col de Nice (412 M). While this first climb was a “nice” warm-up (sorry, couldn’t help it) it was the next ascent, the Col de Braus (1002M), that helps you understand why so many pro cyclists train here. The road to the top was pristine and well paved, with plenty of gradient variation, zero traffic, switchbacks galore, and outstanding scenery.

At the apex, we were surprised to find the ashes of Rene Vietto and his wife, as well as a monument to this one-time Maillot Jaune. Frankly, the name didn’t ring a bell with anyone in the group and this was by no means a major or “important” climb, so we were surprised upon our return to find out that he was quite a Tour de France folk hero.

At this point our legs wanted more uphill so we took a detour to try to reach what looked like some sort of abbey situated 500 meters or so higher than the Col de Braus, to the west. However, the pavement — or lack thereof — made the route decidedly sketchy and daylight was fading, so we aborted and descended to the car in search of some top Mediterranean grub (Nice’s Luna Rossa = Excellent).

Day 2
After a late night/early AM bedbug scare (note: do your best to avoid the Hotel Normandie — while conveniently located close to the train station, 1 in every 6 mattresses is infected with some sort of bug — at least in our experience) we took advantage of one of the great luxuries of riding in France, the un-ending supply of morning pastries, and were on our way to Grasse.

Compared to the bustle of Nice, the outskirts of the town were nearly deserted. It probably doesn’t hurt that there is one direction to go as you head north from town, up, which was fine by us. It could be said that every ride should start like this: 4-6% average gradient with occasional false flats…for over two hours. On the way up the slope, a quick look over our left shoulders showed the outline of the ocean in the distance. Unfortunately the view was directly into the sun and not suitable for photos, so readers will have to take us at our word that there’s something surreal about riding at 3000 feet and seeing the sea. After summiting the Col du Pilon we descended for a few kms before getting our grimp on again, up to the top of the Col de Valferrie.

By the time we hit the Col de Valferrie it was past 1pm so our search for lunch began in earnest — it’s nearly impossible to find someone that will serve you a proper meal in France after 2pm, especially in rural towns where “les snack bars” and hypermarches (Walmart-like supermarkets) simply don’t exist.

The pickings were slim as this area of the Alps is stuck between the more famous Cols to the North and the seaside resort towns to the Southern. Despite our collective worry that we would encounter typical French lunch service (read 2+ hours), we pulled over at Le St. Louis in Seranon. We definitely lucked out on this day — not only was the pizza outstanding and the service light-speed by French standards (full meal in under an hour!), but Le St, Louis turned out to be pretty much the only thing open within 20-30 hilly kilometers.

With only 2 and a half hours left until darkness, and the temperature headed southward, we opted for a slightly shorter cutoff than planned and were rewarded with some gently rolling terrain followed by a killer descent towards the car with sublime late afternoon views of the low Southern Alps.

A note of caution for anyone wanting to replicate our adventure: When riding in this area, signs are regularly seen for “Verglas Frequent” (Black Ice Forms Often) with a picture of a sliding car. It’s easy to tune-out these placards because they’re everywhere — especially when the weather doesn’t feel particularly icy (say, over 50F). However, it’s a sneaky thing, that verglas, and as the altitude exceeds 1500 meters and the roadway heads to the shade, pay close attention. If the fringes of the road are white, we’ve confirmed that there’s a pretty good chance that one will encounter this oft-advertised verglas, leading to a quick meeting with the pavement and a long slide to the gutter.

Also, this day’s ride proved to be a stinky one, given the Nicoise habit of creating huge outdoor fires to burn their household rubbish, not to mention a perfume factory or two. Speaking of smell, several hours at a time of four un-showered dudes in a Peugeout can have some serious olfactory effects. In this case, the primary result was the affectionate anointment of our silver sled as “the stank box” — it’s definitely a good thing that Hertz doesn’t complete any sort of aromatic testing to evaluate rental vehicle damage upon return.