The King of Stone in the White Void

When I woke up in Abries in the early morning, shivering from the cold, I was looking forward to a beautiful day of biking. It should pass by the famous Monte Viso, which dominates this area, and go to Italy. The route looked quite pleasant on the map, and the predicted 1450 meters of altitude for the day should be a piece of cake given my current training level. I thought everything would be easily doable.

At first, it was quite comfortable and pleasant, going up a road and then a forest path to a viewpoint of Monte Viso. I was easily climbing up the meters, until the icon of Piedmont rose majestically and proudly in the distance in the blazing sunshine. I could catch a few glimpses of the pass that I still had to climb. And then, the King of Stone retreated like a shy deer behind its cloud curtain and did not show itself for the rest of the day. To make matters worse, the pass also looked like a steep and rocky monster that I had to conquer.

So, it was time to get off the bike and tackle the first pushing section. It went well up to a lake at 2550 meters, and now only 270 meters of altitude separated me from the summit of Col de Valante. But those meters were challenging. The nightmare of the bikepacker became real - I had to cross a field of gravel, navigating through rough terrain where the bike had to be lifted, pushed, or carried from one stone to another. It was no longer fun, and the hikers I met on the way had only pitying looks and shaking heads for me. But at that moment, there was no alternative. I had to go through it, even though I cursed and complained.

Hardly had I overcome this passage, gasping for breath, when the next inconvenience came - a long traverse with a slight uphill to the second pass, Colle Losetta. It could have been enjoyable with a clear view of Monte Viso, but since it behaved like a sulking sausage, I stared into the white void while pushing through the rough gravel. Only a nice descent could save this day.

To my satisfaction, I got that descent. Starting from the top, it was almost continuously rideable, going downhill rapidly over slippery gravel fields, through not too narrow river valleys, and across wide Alpine meadows until I reached the road to Pontechianale. Italy had me back, and after the second espresso, I was more or less reconciled with the rest of the world.

Pontechianale was a ski resort that seemed to be stuck in time, with ancient lifts, a rustic pizzeria, a campground, a grocery store, and a bakery. So, it had everything I needed. For the next two days, it would also be the last opportunity to replenish my supplies.

Hoping for a more relaxed stage, I started the next day. And immediately fell victim to my own stupidity. After only a few kilometers, I had a flat tire. The first one on the tour so far, and I thought it was about time that a tube lost its air. Without any further complications, I quickly changed it and continued. But as soon as I got back on the saddle, I realized that I hadn't checked the tire for nails or other objects. But it didn't matter, the tube must have been old and worn out anyway. And as was to be expected, a few meters further, the tire was flat again. It was a nail after all. What a beginner's mistake! Since I only had one spare tube left, I decided to patch the damaged tube instead. That was the next dilemma, because the patch didn't hold. After three attempts, I became increasingly nervous. Half of the patches were used up. In the remotest part of my tour, I found myself in a precarious situation for no reason. So, I decided to use my last tube and take the damaged one as a makeshift spare. If I had another flat tire in the next two days, I could only hope that one of the three remaining patches on the last spare tube would hold.

By the way, on this day, the Monte Viso once again veiled itself completely, so the next pass meant a lot of work without any view. At least this time on paved roads, with a subsequent descent on a partially decayed, now closed road through a steep gorge. I didn't know the reason for the closure, and I fervently hoped that at the bottom, there would be no landslide or a collapsed tunnel forcing me to turn back and climb again. But everything went well, and when I arrived in the remote Valle Meira, the sun came back too. So, I enjoyed a relaxed evening in a beautifully located and sunny campsite in the middle of nowhere. The biggest part of the route to Barcelonnette was completed.