Still concerned about the heat, the 8 AM breakfast time was less desirable. But it gave me time to adjust my front brakes, which seemed to be a big improvement. Time would tell. Tom and I rode down the valley, through the tunnels and onto a long flat section. It was marred only by a motorist who wanted to pull onto the main road from our left, but had to hesitate as we swept through a downhill right-hander. We were repaid for our insolence by the car passing us at high speed on a tight turn with tires squealing.
Hit the edge of Bourg d'Oisans, took the first exit at the roundabout, and passed the unceremonious kilometer 0 mark at the base of the climb. On a warm Sunday morning, there was no shortage of riders. The linear density of cyclists was on the order of that of the Seattle-to-Portland ride. A typical day sees about 1000 cyclists. It was the now-typical 8% grind the whole 14 kilometers to gain approximately 1000 meters. The tight switchbacks provided slight reprieves.
I kept pace with several folks. There was the teenage boy, whose father was driving support along with two excitable teenage girls, who were photographing and encouraging everybody. The was the very tall and muscular Scandinavian, with no helmet, blonde crewcut, white rimmed sunglasses, and full kit, followed by his family in a car. Towards the top he would stop every 200 meters, and then wobble past me before his next stop. A German riding in running shorts passed me on the very first ramp, huffing and puffing. Then he sat on my wheel much of the upper portion, like a gnat I couldn't shake. At the top, he was using the public fountain to rinse his entire body. Disgusting. Then he asked me to take a photograph of him on the top step of the faux podium provided for just this purpose.
But mostly it was very fit riders of all ages, passing me. There were quite a few children (say, 10 years old) riding with parents. One fellow was ascending on roller skis. I made one stop at a rest area near turn 10 (joined by the gnat), then continued up through Huez Village as the church bells pealed for several minutes. Climb took me 90 minutes, exclusive of the rest stop. Lars missed the one-hour cut at 65 minutes, the others took about 70 minutes. World record is 34 minutes.
The ski village is a big place, and there were numerous shops catering to cyclists (and numerous cyclists to be catered to). The Rapha pop-up store had very nice Sky team jerseys for 60 euros, but in a concession to fashion and style they only had two back pockets, which stopped me from buying. The Trek store had nothing to offer, except Radio Shack jerseys with a discrete Livestrong yellow band on the left sleeve, hence heavily discounted. I found a retro Alpe d'Huez jersey at a small shop, but my size will not be restocked until next summer, so I will order over the internet then.
Tom and I waited for the others, while the clouds darkened and the wind picked up. We never saw the rest of the group, as they were getting their front brakes adjusted in one of the shops. Tom suggested we not get caught going over the nearby Col de Sarenne in bad weather, so we descended the way we came. It was a great descent as I had long car-free stretches and my brakes were tuned right. The only disadvantage of this strategy is that we would need to climb back up the valley to the hotel. The weather held all day.
I guess my fitness has improved and I made it up the short climb out of the valley alright. Tom had not been feeling well and needed an extended break to make it. Lars had gone over the top and over the bump that is the Col de Sarenne, and was very impressed that the Tour this year had taken this technically challenging route. He was showered and enjoying a steak and foie gras lunch when I arrived. Could have been the toughest 30 mile bike ride I've ever done, covering in excess of 3,300 feet of elevation. But I can check Alpe d'Huez off my bucket list.
All showered, five of us (sans Luther) shuttled down to Bourg d'Oisans so Tom and I could get lunch (gallette complete: ham, cheese and a fried egg), Dr. Evan could prescribe himself drugs for his incipient bronchitis, and we could all hit the bike shops for souvenirs. Dinner featured extended discussion about tomorrow's route back to Albertville, and the forecast of rain and thunderstorms.
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