Grand Raid Cristalp

As the hours ticked by fatique slowly set in. I lost my saddle bag on the first descent and spend a while scouring the edge of the mountain, getting worked up about it and running around the undergrowth like a extra in The Hobbit. Ross whizzed past; my thoughts wandered. I talked to a tough looking French guy who ranted in a very Gallic way about the Swiss riders who just couldn’t descend like real men. He complained about the amount of fire road and even tarmac climbs, and lack of prolonged technical sections.

Superb views on the Grand Raid Cristalp

On this point I have to agree; whilst there were some superb views and the odd technical section (in particular the brutal rocky section before you descend into Evolene) much of the route is on mountain forest roads which offer little by way of technical rigour.

And at the sections that were steep or technical I have never seen so many people carrying bikes down a trail that is ripe for riding down. As soon as things got even remotely technical the field slowed up and you would find yourself stuck in traffic. In fact, it got a bit silly at times, with long unpassable queues of guys in lycra carrying beautiful carbon bikes on their shoulders. Surely the whole point of slogging your guts up a mountain is to be able to test your metal on the way down?

So my plan of making up time downhill was not quite working out, but I guess that will teach me for not being in better shape for the climbs; and what a lot of climbing there was. After 6 hours, I couldn’t get the phrase “death by a thousand cuts” out of my mind. It’s not just the meters gained, or even the gradients, which at times were pretty seriously steep, but more the sheer number of climbs that take it out of you.

At work on the Canyon Nerve AL 9.9

It was around this time that the light began to fade. Strange, as it was just after 1pm. Weather in the area had been splendid for 2 weeks; Ross’ tan was testament to that. We had been warned of possible rain by text message the night before (as I said, the whole organisation of this event is very slick) and again on the morning before setting off. And sure enough, by lunch time the first drops appeared. Earlier than forecast predicted and judging by the ominous rumble of thunder in the valley ahead of us fairly substantial.

Still going strong but it looks a bit dark for so early in the day…

By the time Ross and I arrived in Evolene, arms and hands numbed from the huge and frankly really amazing descent off the Pointe De Mandelon, the writing was on the wall. The wind had picked up and the sky above the Montagn D’Eison, where we were headed, was black. Having earlier lost my saddle bag, at this point I tried to source some spares before beginning the long climb up to the final cut off point at La Vieille. The thought of getting stuck on the mountain without means to fix things in these conditions was not a comforting one. I noticed a few guys pulling over and calling it a day at this point, but having spent a whole load of time and money getting this far, retiring was not an option – and having ridden over the last 15-months in awful British weather, I was confident that this was not going to derail things.

We carried on, though by now most conversation amongst riders has ceased. Grim faces said it all: people were hurting. The rain got heavier and the temperature dropped. The sections of technical ascending were muddy and energy sapping. I was really regretting my choice of clothing. I had opted for a gillet only and, though my core felt ok, my extremities did not. A few riders came past us coming down, looking cold and broken.