- Distance: 66,57 km
- Vertical Ascent: 1.585 m
- No. of Named Cols: <TBC>
- Start Date & Time: 2019-10-14, 11:10
- Start Location: Castillon-en-Couserans
- End Date & Time: 2019-10-14, 19:23
- End Location: Bagnères-de-Luchon
- Time Moving: 5:19:22
- Moving Average: 12,5 km/h
- No. of Stops >3 Minutes: 14
Data: strava.com/activities/2789883335
Home-made marmalade and bread were among the special treats of another rich breakfast. Natasha is one more very kind host, and a perfect addition to a veritable collection I’m putting together over the course of this TPR. So far I can wholeheartedly recommend every B&B, hostel and hotel I stayed in, although there are clear favorites, and this place is among them.
On the street-level floor of the old four- or five-storey stone house that is the hostel, I tried for a while to figure out what is wrong with my front brake: the whole shebang seems a bit loose, rattling when braking downhill. With the high mountains less than a day away, I will definitely try to find a shop today: it appears as if it’s the center bolt attaching the calipers to the fork, and the races of the nut inside the fork may be worn. But without spare parts, I won’t try anything now and risk losing the front brake altogether.
After leaving La Maison de Natasha, some errands at the local pharmacy and supermarket didn’t take too long. Only moments later I passed Audressein with rain clouds closing in from all around.
Yet, the bright scorching sun above and humid air forced me to once more reconsider my clothing choice for the day. I stopped by a group of trees, changed out of my Merino long sleeve shirt and into light climbing kit. As the spot was calm and comfortably cool, I sat down on a stone pedestal to redress my wounds* and clean dog poop off my shoe. Ironically, it took more than a thousand kilometres across the Pyrenees and over manure-covered rural roads to finally step into a pile of animal shit. And the dog stuff is so persistent. But I had chosen the place not only for the shade the trees would provide, but also for the abundance of twigs to poke around the cleats and the profiled sole of my CX boots.
*= I have developed some allergic reaction to band-aid used to cover the cut and road rash on knee and elbow. The constant rubbing of knee warmers and jersey made it worse, and by now a larger portion of skin is inflamed. This morning, at the pharmacy in Castilon-en-Couserans, I had again bought a different type of product and spray cleanser and decided to change the dressing at least twice daily. When I looked up I saw I was sitting underneath a crucifix … how fitting. Guess some of the passers-by weren’t too pleased about the messy-looking cycling at this particular spot. But, as always, I cleaned up thoroughly after and took the trash with me — #LeaveNoTrace
Continuing down the D618 I passed a number of villages and small towns with peculiar names in the most beautiful setting. Many old houses of all sizes are for sale here. Sometimes you see the asking price advertised on a handwritten sign with a mobile phone number to call. Other properties are sold through real-estate agencies. If you play with the thought of a quiet place in the countryside and don’t need to commute for work in the bigger cities — or can afford to even live and work off-grid — the Ariège region as a whole should definitely be on your map. And I encountered few places without 4G access.
The route initially traverses some low hills but mostly follows one or the other stream, like the Bouigane and the Goute de Sipet, slowly winding upwards to the Col de Portet d’Aspet. Eventually I took the D85 along the Ger and then turned onto the D44 up into the higher mountains.
So far I had stayed mostly dry from the outside, but the cloud cover was thickening, and while I took a couple of pictures a few minutes later, just before Col de la Clin, it started raining in earnest. When the rain didn’t relent, and temperatures had gone down significantly, I stopped again, this time to put on my full GoreTex kit for the rest of the climb up the Col de Menté, only to reach the summit in bright sunshine.
The road down from the Col was still wet, and it was covered in debris from today’s rainstorms. Carefully navigating clusters of leaves, twigs and branches, I was nearly blown off the road a couple of times by heavy gusts of wind. Unfortunately missed out on one stunning photo op, but stopped for another and finally managed to capture one of those ubiquitous “Non à l’ours!” graffiti. Yesterday I explained what that’s about and now you have a picture to go along with it.
Saint-Béat was the next place I cannot forget. The Garonne river cuts downwards through the tiny town, and there must have recently been a severe flooding: People stood watching while work was underway, in time before the winter, to remove rubble, boulders and smaller stones washed up in piles against the old supporting walls alongside the river bed. Again, old houses were for sale, and one in particular stood out as it had a huge archway leading from the main street underneath several storeys of the old building, right down to the river. There’s a lot of charming, rather beautiful real estate around, but it must be tough to maintain, let alone restore to former glory.
When I reached Cierp-Gaud in the La Pique river valley, I saw clouds encroaching from all around again, especially in direction of Bagnères-de-Luchon and onwards to the west.
Originally, I had hoped to continue into the night (again) and reach Génos at the start of the climb up to the Col d’Azet, or even find a B&B late at night at Saint-Lary-Soulan and do the Hourquette d’Ancizan already next morning.
But time lost due to frequently switching kit for either summer temperatures or wet weather, and the prospect of cycling through rain and storm didn’t put me in a good mood: Forecasts predict heavy weather throughout the night — this should also bring along a drop in overall temperatures.
And with my front brake still posing a risk for the upcoming long descents (Aubisque, Hourquette d’Ancizan, Tourmalet), more so on wet or sketchy roads, I chose Luchon as my goal for the early evening, ideally in time for dinner. To make up for this shortest day of my #TPRNo1 yet, I’d get up relatively early and in the morning find a bike shop to fix that remaining mechanical issue on the FrankenBike.
An Internet search turned-up a number of places to stay, and while the first wasn’t even a tiny bit interested in hosting a cyclist, the second phone call was answered enthusiastically. My lucky streak was about to continue. Or so it seemed.
The hotel in Luchon was easy to find. It also hosts a small bar on the ground floor, and a number of guests were having drinks outside under the overcast, darkening sky when I rolled up to the entrance.
Service at the reception was friendly and uncomplicated. I was allowed to take my bike upstairs and shouldered it up the stairs. But unfortunately my room on the 1st floor turned out to be still unmade. bedsheets in a huge heap, towels on the floor and in the sink. I climbed back down and got a new room on the top floor. Carrying my bike up four flights of stairs qualifies as another col, I think.
The narrow corridor and tiny room required me to haul my bike over the bed to be able to close the door. At first glance everything looked OK. The bed was made. But this place definitely did not match its rating on TripAdvisor.
After a shower and changing into dry and warm kit I went downstairs for dinner that was served as a 3-course menu. The food was OK too, yet nothing compared with other places I had visited. But the beer was good, and I stayed for a while to edit some earlier posts and upload more photos.
I went back to my room roundabout 9 pm for the usual nightly chores: after showering I had briefly tested an electric heater in the bathroom — the small box was powerful and in working order, thus I could wash all clothing and dry it over the following hours and during the night
While washing arm and knee warmers, bib shorts and base layers and hanging them to dry in any feasible fashion, I began to notice the sorry state of cleanliness my room and bathroom were in. When I accidentally pushed against the bin underneath the sink, this revealed a bunch of hair from a previous occupant.
Later, picking up something from the floor had me look under the bed, where I found another guest’s used sock and accumulated dust from who knows how long since the room had seen a thorough cleaning.
As I had no reason to believe that other rooms were any better maintained, I resisted an impulse to challenge hotel management and to move (again), especially now with all my wet clothes spread along walls and over furniture. And when not much later I was fast asleep this was definitely due to tiredness and despite everything else.
