Tuesday morning I woke to yet another warm summer's day, and with a bad asthmatic cough. In my rush to pack I had forgotten my reliever inhaler, which I had not used for months. I tried to ignore it and headed down for breakfast - the first lycra breakfast of the week. The dining room was full of Dutch cyclists, particularly a large group who I found out later on were a group of firemen. By 9:30 I was on the road.
The Glandon starts off pretty steep for a col. Although officially the average gradient is 4.8%, with a max of 12%, certain sections of the climb actually reach 19%. After gaining about 200 meters my breathing became very wheezy to the point I had to stop. After 10 minutes of trying to get the breathing under control I set off again. Within about 2 minutes I was back to wheezing and coughing like a 50 a day smoker. I had no choice but to stop. This time I got off the bike and sat down to relax for 20 minutes. Just as I was feeling better the Dutch firemen started to go past. No one asked if I was okay so they must have either presumed I had stopped for a nature call, or had cracked on the climb. I waited until the last guy went past and then got started again, this time making sure I took it easy.
It was hard work getting up to the village of Le Rivier D'Allemont, at about 1200 metres, as the gradient didn't seem to let up. I stopped to refill my water bottle and could see a road dropping down into a gorge. I didn't want to believe this was the route, but as I continued I knew it must be as I couldn't see where else the road could go. Soon enough I lost 150 metres of height with gradients around 15 to 18%.
The climb out of the gorge was tough. I passed four "tourists" loaded up with panniers. One of them was struggling so much she was cycling up the middle of the road, completely oblivious to vehicles and cyclists trying to get past. Still it made me feel better that I was passing some people, and then I got overtaken by one of the Dutch guys. I decided tried to tuck in behind him but couldn't keep up. Then around the corner I saw him getting into a van, with two of the other guys. Guess I wasn't the only one finding it hard.
I could see a dam now and the gradient became more manageable as I could finally stay seated and find a rhythm. Before I knew it I was up over the dam and going past the Lac, where you get the first sight of the summit. The road drops off gently and then it is like a ribbon stretching up a beautiful pass to the crossroads. With the summit in sight it is like a giant carrot dangling and you get that burst of energy to put in the final charge for the top. At this point I got chatting to a guy from London who had caught up with me. As soon as he said he had ridden from the Col D'Ornon I guessed he was staying at the King of the Mountains, where I had stayed four years before.
He resumed his own pace and then a few minutes later I made it to the crossroads, where you go left for the Glandon or straight on for Col de la Croix de Fer. I turned left for the Glandon, got in a photo and then shot off for the last 2.5kms to the summit of the Croix de Fer. The views from the Croix de Fer were outstanding. I met up with the guy from London again who was with his friend Neil. I realised that I had met Neil before when I had stayed at the King of the Mountains previously. Talk about a small world! They were also training for the Marmotte. It was a relief to hear that they thought the Glandon was a tough climb too.
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