Alps Divide Diary

The Alps Divide Ultra is a mixed terrain bikepacking event from Menton to Thonon-les-Baines. With 1,050km and 32,000m of climbing it's not for the feint hearted. The winners would aim to be finish in around 4-5 days. The rest of us would simply aim to finish. This is my story.

Day 1

11am. Sign in is closing. Bag drop. Familiar faces greet me. A nervous nod here, a knowing smile there. Coffee. Find a quiet spot. Lunch: pasta and cake. I’ll need those calories later. Hang about under the trees on the seafront near the start. Chat for a bit. Another coffee. More than ready now. It’s nearly 4pm. 3. 2. 1. Go.

The excited bunch rolls out to a police escort. The road quickly rises. Keep a lid on it. First stop: Sospel. Familiar territory. I know that bakers. That was fast, too fast maybe. But I’m feeling good, so I push on. Col de Vescavo, not even a blip on the profile. Italy. Nasty tunnel section. Along the flat, then boom: A 25% road climb. Heart rate goes sky high. So much for keeping a lid on it. Then the crunch of tires on gravel and we're off-road again. Sun down. Lights on. Lumpy – is there a smooth line I can’t see in the dark? Pigna by 9pm? 

Pigna, 11pm. There's a bar open. The old man is flustered—why have a dozen cyclists turned up and ordered so many panini? Doppio Espresso. Let’s go!

I’ve done this climb before. Not in the dark, mind. Up to the rifugio above Molini. Past those great trails I was riding in May. Not this time. Up the track. Past that fort I can’t see. The night presses in. Walking now. What time is it? 4am. Maybe I’ll sleep there. No. Must keep going. 5:30am. Cows line the path. 6am. Shed. Nobody’s in there. What a score.

Day 2

The views are spectacular, I'm sure.

8am. Sun's up. Time to go. Someone else wants the shed. All yours, mate. Have you seen the weather forecast? Must ride as far as I can before it rains… 9:30am. Rain. Bugger. Knew it was coming, but still... This is set in for the day now. The views are spectacular, I'm sure. Via del Sel. Been up to the fort before. It was sunny back then. Why is there nowhere to shelter up here? Then what’s the point? It’ll just be harder to get going.

Wearing all my clothes now. The damp creeps through every layer. Why am I walking up this tarmac road? Oh yeah, those 5,000m in my legs. And no sleep, probably. Castillon. Finally. We’re descending. Garmin isn’t showing the right altitude… weird. Tende. Stop for food or carry on? Carry on to Breil. There’s a Carrefour there. Garmin turns itself off — drowned. Bollocks. Plan B: the watch.

Get to Breil. Where’s that Carrefour? There’s Jenny. She's got the same question. Carrefour’s hiding next to the train station. Result. Bread and cream cheese (no cutlery required), chocolate milk, Coke, a packet of cashew nuts, and a couple of Snickers. 3pm. Still raining. Everything I own is soaked. Can’t even work my phone. Now what? Hotel to dry off? Full. Looks like I'm riding on.

Chocolate milk, Coke, a packet of cashew nuts, and a couple of Snickers.

The road quickly rises as rain continues to bounce off it. Rain stops. Hallelujah. Rain starts again. Steady grind upwards. Into the wind. Into the clouds. The mist surrounds me, hiding the peaks, hiding the views. Finally, we go down. Then another rise. This is supposed to be a downhill? I find my rhythm. Getting dark. Lights on. Civilisation. “No hotels here. Try the next town.” Hotel's full. Half a pizza for free (thanks!). Next hotel has space (phew). 9pm. Two other riders arrive at the same time. Peter and Alain. I rode with Alain 24 hours ago for a bit. Another rider arrives. Check the tracker. We’re positions 7, 8, 9, and 10. Happy with that. Second dinner. Hang out all my kit to dry. Alarm set for 5am. Sleep.

Day 3

Just the highest paved road in Europe to get over today. No biggie.

5am. Hit Snooze. 5:10. Get up. Pack up. Set off. 7am. Sunrise. Clear skies. Thank fuck. First light gives me a boost. Smooth gravel climb. Things are looking up. Long tarmac descent. Proxi. Snacks: Sandwich, Haribo and a croissant. Coffee. Just the highest paved road in Europe to get over today. No biggie.

Climbing feels steady now, the altitude ticking away. Catch Peter, then Leanne, then Jenny. There’s Alain on his way down already. Up and around the top. No time to stop. Off-road to CP1. Catch Alain. CP1 in under 48 hours. Nice one. Pasta time. Alain, Jenny, and Leanne soon join. Then the girls are gone. So efficient. The fight for the women's podium is on.

50km downhill next. Into a headwind. Not overly "downhill" either. Hit the lakeside. Then climb again. Sunset. Should’ve bought food when I could. Can I survive the night? I think so. What’s this second climb? I’m sure there was only one. No chance of food now. Google to the rescue. Pizza truck: 2km off course. And it’s open. And the pizza is massive, just what I need.

Start the next climb. Slower now, but I’m still moving. Find a bivvy spot. 11pm. Sleep.

Day 4

No Snickers. Sad times.

4am. Someone rides past. Check the tracker. It's Leanne. Time to get up. Too cold. Deflate the mattress. No choice now. The climb will warm me up. Pack up. Ride out. Tarmac turns to gravel. Flashing rear light up ahead. It’s Peter. He slept in a bus stop just past my camp spot.

Legs feel heavier this morning, but nothing unusual. First light. Alain catches me. We both catch Leanne. The sun comes over the ridge. Over the top. Down to Risoul. Ghost town. Freezing. Carry on down to Guillestre. Where’s the bloody bakers? There it is. Cash only? OK, feed me & take my money. Alain rolls up — Hi Alain!

Next job: Cafe (toilet), bike shop (brake pads). Up the road we go. Rockfall diversion. An extra few hundred meters to climb. Yay. It’s steady progress—one switchback at a time. Never been to the Queyras before. Stunning. Short downhill before we hit the Col d’Izoard road. We’re not going that way thankfully. We're heading off road again.

Quick crêpe stop. Past the campsite and up the gravel switchbacks. Is that the top? No. Hike-a-bike. Feeling strong (Nutella power). There’s Leanne again. And the media crew. Hi Hi! Not far now. Over we go. This would be terrible on a gravel bike. Hoon down to Briançon. Proper day out. Not done yet though…

Up the valley towards Névache. More familiar territory. Over the Colle della Scala to Bardonecchia. Someone’s doing a slackline across the valley. Nut job. Down to Bardonecchia. Carrefour. No Snickers. Sad times. Where am I sleeping tonight? Hotel halfway up the next climb sounds good. Sun's setting. Lights on. Get there. Posh. Alain arrives 20 minutes later. Romantic dinner for two. 11pm. Time for bed.

Day 5

Where’s the hotel I booked? Up that hill? Fucksake!

3:30am. That definitely wasn’t enough sleep. A little Colle del Sommeiller before dawn? Who does this stuff? Blimey, there’s Leanne again. Like a metronome. Stunning views at the top. And a nice looking hut. There’s Peter’s bike outside. He's done well. Fair play.

Head down. Back to the hotel. It’s only 9am. Breakfast is still being served—be rude not to. Then down to Bardonecchia. Back to Carrefour. Still no Snickers. Heading skywards again. It’s a steady grind, but I’m feeling tired. Need to lie down for a bit. 15 minutes will have to do. Another hour or two of shoving to the next Col.

High clouds roll in. This is not a good sign. Get to the top. More proper mountain biking (whoop!). Then tarmac all the way to Modane. Down the valley road. Into a headwind. Always a fucking headwind. Need food. Off route to a Carrefour. At least they have Snickers. Moutiers is the aim tonight. No idea how far it is. There’s Leanne again (again). Coming towards me this time. Can’t be good. Ripped back tyre. My usual trick. She's retreating to find a dry spot to fix it properly.

Here comes the rain that’s been threatening since lunchtime. It passes. Is that it? No. It’s back with a vengeance. Night falls, lights on. Wonder what the views are like up here? Over the top and down we go. Cold now. Put on all my clothes. And descend. And descend. Gravel turns to asphalt. And descend.  Rain keeps getting harder. Is this sensible? Hell no, but I'm committed. What else am I going to do?

11pm. Moutiers. Finally. That must've been 2,000m of descending. Where’s the hotel I booked? Up that hill? Fuck!

No dinner tonight. Just some snack bars and a packet of nuts. Warm shower though. And the radiator works. I can dry out my kit. Lay in tomorrow. Treat myself.

Day 6

Snow. In September. WTAF.

6am. Breakfast buffet. Ate all the scrambled eggs (sorry). CP2 is the plan this morning. Just need to oil my chain. Bike shops aren’t open. Car garage is. They find me something that’ll do the job. 9am. Off we go again. Steady climb out of town. There’s Peter. Ride together for a bit. Then solo. Great little bit of singletrack. Now the climb proper up to the checkpoint. At least it’s not raining.

Tarmac ends. Watch says it’s another 5km. That looks like a nice refuge. There are Alps Divide flags outside! Made it. That wasn't 5km. Stupid watch. Cold outside now. Warm inside. Eat and chat with the checkpoint volunteers. Peter arrives. I leave.

2 minutes later…Snow. In September. WTAF. 10 minutes later and a few hundred meters lower and it’s raining. Hard.

Just get to Beaufort. I know there’s a cafe there. Check MeteoSwiss. The rain will pass soon. Shelter for 30 minutes. Hot chocolate. Supermarket’s closed today, damn. Posh deli is open. 20 euros on 6(!) energy bars (No Snickers, again). Buy new gloves at the hardware store. Col Jolly in the cold magical light. How did I forget about this extra valley before Chamonix!? (not like I haven’t skied and biked here before!). Bugger. Up and over to Les Houches I must go. This track is steep. Raining again. Dark again. Lights on again. But...Chamonix baby!... so close to home.

There’s Peter fixing a torn tyre. How did he get here so fast? Oh yeah, hot chocolate/snack bar/glove stop.

Down to Les Houches and up the valley to Chamonix. 10pm. Pizza place is still open. Hotel up the road. 11pm. Hang out kit to dry. Check Komoot. Check Tracker. Peter’s off the mountain. Not many dots nearby now. Set a stupid-o’clock alarm. Sleep.

Day 7

I could be home in 30 minutes if I go left. I go right

3:30am. Final day. 12 hours left. That’s the plan anyway. Down to the Rhone valley, up to Champery, then Col du Cou. Then Lac Vert. Col Chesery. Home trails. How hard can it be?

Cold. Rain. Cold rain. Cold hands. I’m feeling sluggish today, but there’s a finish line to reach. What is it that keeps me moving? One pedal stroke at a time. Doggedly following the line on my GPS. I’m so slow. Should have had a longer sleep. Grand Paradis in the freezing rain. Speak to Sara. Tell her not to come out to meet me as planned because of the ridiculous weather.

Nearing Col du Cou. It’s snowing now. It’s beautiful. 20cm of white stuff on the ground. There’s Sara. What’s she doing up here? What am I doing up here?

Hi!—See you in Thonon—Bye!

Lots of pushing now. Les Portes de l'Hiver living up to the name. Down to Lac Vert. Up over Col Chesery. I’m pushing on, step by step, finding energy somewhere. These conditions are bonkers. Walk a bit, ride a bit. This is supposed to be the fun bit.

Something’s not right. Shit! Fuck! Puncture! What a place to flat. What a place to try and fix it. White sealant is hard to spot on a snow covered tire. What a dick. Two worms in. It’s holding. Keep on.

Col du Bassachaux. I could be home in 30 minutes if I go left. I go right. Snowfall turns to rainfall. Snow on the ground turns to mud. At least we’re rolling. Who’s this dot-watcher? It’s Stephan and family. He finished two days ago. Offering hot soup from his campervan. What a treat. Thanks, man.

Down to Abondance we go. Mud and cow shit everywhere. Who cares? Final shop. Snickers (finally!) and Coke. Final climb. Final push. Just a few more metres of mud and rain. It’s gone 8pm (12 hours? ha!). It’s dark. Cow shit alley. Ankle-deep. What the fuck. Over the top though. The hard work is done.

Still raining. Bomb down the road. Back tyre feels soft again. Fix can’t have held. It has held. It’s a new one. What the fuck! Attempt to fix it. It’s not holding. Roll on a bit. Nope. Pump it up. Roll on. What kind of luck is this? Find some shelter and calm down. It’s just a flat tyre. Kind stranger comes out to ask what I’m doing. Offers to help. I can’t accept his track pump. Have to explain. Show him the tracker. A welcome distraction from my annoyance. Stick a tube in and carry on.

10pm. Roll on. There’s still 25km to go. Peter passes me and is gone. Curtains of rain roll in like ocean waves. Riding so carefully now. Must. Not. Puncture. Last off-road section is done. I’m gonna make it. Roll down towards the port. Where’s that finish line?

There it is. There’s Sara. There’s Katie (one half of the race organisers). There’s Peter. It’s midnight. It’s done. That was tough, but I loved every minute of it.

1050km, 32,000m. 6 days, 8 hours. 7th.

Out of ~100 starters, there were only 29 finishers—easily the highest rate of attrition in any event I've done. A mixture of injury, inappropriate equipment (Gravel bikes!? — though Alain was on one) and the harsh weather conditions all contributed to this.

Leanne fixed her tire and won the women's category (& placed 12th overall). Jenny had to scratch with an injured knee in Bardonecchia. Peter finished 20 minutes before me, but since I was the last rider to go over the snowy pass before diversions were announced, our finish places were swapped. Alain finished a few hours later. Stephane finished in under 5 days. Chapeau.