It's easy to see why; this climb is astonishing. After a pretty easy thirty mile trip out of Grenoble up a 1%-2% grade most of the way, l'Alpe kicks up to 11% almost immediately. All around me I could hear cyclists clicking into easier gears. The road swings back and forth like a piece of string pushed up against itself, and each one of the turns exacts a price. This is without question the hardest climb I've ever done in my life; it felt like I was scaling a wall.
The other riders around me would agree. I saw lots of cyclists on all the big climbs, but never had I seen so many resting on the side of the road, catching their breath and rolling their eyes like a cornered rabbit at the sight of the next switchback. Although I never paused, I was right with them. The other three HC climbs I've done were hard, but never once did I think I was going to have to stop. On l'Alpe I thought so several times, and a few times all I could do was slowly turn the pedals over as easily as the grade would allow me, waiting for my heart to slow down enough to establish a rhythm again. The trouble was that as soon as I got into a rhythm, here came about switchback at 15% or so to blow me up.
I did have a goal; though, and it is why I saved l'Alpe for last. The 2010 Dauphiné Liberé - a tuneup ride for the Tour de France - ended one stage here. I kept careful watch of the time of the last rider because I wanted to climb the ride at least as fast as one member of the peloton. That rider's time was one hour, eighteen minutes and thirty seconds, and it was my goal to beat that.
But by the last two miles - when the climb actually levels a bit, but you wouldn't know it from how your legs feel - it didn't look like I could maintain the pace, I just couldn't will myself to ride hard enough. I had already been red-lining my heart rate for nearly the entire ride. Then, at 1hr 14min, I passed a 2km to go sign. That was it, no way I could ride another mile in only four minutes. But then, crazily, I rounded a corner a bit later and there was the finish line! Turns out that sign was some kind of advertising and the 2km had nothing to do with how much climbing there was left. I crossed the Arrivé line at 1 hour, 16 minutes and 45 seconds; nearly two minutes faster than the slowest rider in the Daupiné. I nearly couldn't unclip from my pedals and make it to a bench without falling. Here is me, several minutes and a lot of water later:
