Visiting the southernmost Bike-3000 peaks of the Alps

As beautiful as it was in the Valle Maira, I eventually had to move on. France was waiting. Moreover, after a two-day window of good weather, it was going to rain again on Saturday, and the bike shop would be closed on Sunday and Monday as well. So there were more than enough reasons to tackle the Colle del Maurin promptly. This was one of those passes that couldn’t be crossed sensibly in a day, as it led into a valley that took you in a completely different direction. In this case, it was the Ubaye Valley. Last year, I had already been in this valley during a different bikepacking venture in the Queyras, entering from the east to the north. This time, it would be from the south to the west.

With a whole supply of Chinese noodles and porridge on board, and after four days of cycling without luggage, everything felt extremely heavy again. Oh my, how did I manage that before? But complaining wasn't going to help now; I had to tackle the 1600 meters of elevation gain. I pushed my legs hard on the pedals to get back to Saretto on tarmac. The obstacle-free terrain remained with me until after Chiappera, the last hamlet in the valley on the Italian side. As remote as it was here, I could hardly imagine that this place was accessible in winter and a sought-after destination for ski tours. I can only imagine that clearing ice and snow on this narrow mountain road must be quite an adventure.

I still had 1000 meters of elevation gain ahead of me. It wasn’t overly steep and was quite manageable until the pass. Arrivederci Italia, Bienvenue en France! After more than a week of fun times in Italy, I was finally at my actual travel destination. The reception couldn't have been better – a buttery soft and fluffy trail brought me down into the valley. I can't explain it, but such trails exist only in the USA, or in France, especially around the Queyras. I really have no idea why that is, but it was certainly sheer enjoyment.

Even more pleasure awaited at the Auberge of the small village of Maljasset – the first Tarte aux Myrtilles in France, and what a tart it was. Yummy! The day was thus saved; all that was left was to find a place to sleep. I was a bit torn – for my planned day trip tomorrow, I wanted to pedal up to Fouillouse. However, there was no campsite there, so I wanted to look for something behind it. Whether that would work out was still quite unclear. So off I went through the beautiful upper Ubaye Valley, and at the fork towards Fouillouse, I climbed another 300 meters. The hamlet itself consisted mainly of a restaurant and a small shop with an attached bar. The infrastructure was fully geared towards passing hikers, which suited me very well. The restaurant offered not only rooms but also a small tent meadow. It cost 5€ a night if you wanted to share the shower. Half board was also offered. That was exactly what I had wished for. You can tell that in France, camping in the classic sense of backpacking is much more widespread and accepted. This, of course, pleases me immensely as a bikepacker.

The upcoming tour the next day was the Tete de la Frema. The southernmost Bike-3000 of the Alps. It was very high on my to-do list. Although I only spent the night at 1900 meters, it was bitterly cold. But that shouldn't deter me. The ascent was via a very smooth, hardly blocked trail that was already whetting my appetite for the descent. At the Refuge de Chambeyron, the terrain became slightly flatter and stepped. Several steeply rising 3000ers surrounded me, and none of them looked bike-friendly. One of them was the Pont d'Aval, which was supposed to be passable with a bike according to the description. I had initially planned it for the afternoon, but looking at how the steep gravel slope rose to my left, it wasn’t very motivating. Anyway, first, I had to find the Tete de la Frema, my main goal. However, it was still hidden and only revealed itself after a bit of a longer hike, pretty inconspicuously nestled between higher peaks. The last 200 meters of elevation gain were quite something, and the icy wind didn’t make it any more pleasant. The view from the top was spectacular; even the Mont Blanc could be seen in the distance. The first hundred vertical meters were at least not rideable for me, but then came a flowing dream. And it continued that way all the way down. Such a thing is rare on a 3000er; typically, there are unpleasant sections along the way. But not here at all. Back at the Refuge, I had to decide – climb another 700 meters up to try to catch the second 3000er, with the risk that the descent might be far less enjoyable. Or simply keep rolling, as the trail would continue just as dreamily to Saint-Paul-sur-Ubaye. Then I would have to pedal back up another 500 meters to Fouillouse. The advantage of option two would be that I could check out the Boulangerie in Saint-Paul right away. I chose the more comfortable option two. I must be getting old slowly. However, the trail was truly infinitely magnificent. Unfortunately, the Boulangerie was a disappointment. There was only freshly baked bread, but no tarts or anything sweet.

Once I was back at the top, there was an aperitif and the perfectly matching sunset on the terrace of my restaurant to conclude this almost perfect day. The next morning was going to be a bit more hectic – heavy rain was expected around noon, and I still had to tackle one last pass before rolling down to Barcelonette from there. I woke up early and rushed a bit. It worked quite well; early in the morning, the sun came out a bit, I was at the top by ten and in Barcelonette by half-past eleven, a real small town. My inner tube was already there, so I could pick it up right away and head to the bike shop. They were super relaxed and quickly changed it for me within fifteen minutes. So it was noon, all problems were solved, and I was still dry. I was proud of myself. Mission accomplished.