Biking the Barillette at 70

17 June 2021

The day dawned hot and I began to experience an unsettling fight or flight reaction. The Barillette bike ride is a rite of passage for certain gintlemen of the biking group on attaining the age of 70, but it involves much pain, misery and perturbation. It’s a right-awful rite. It comprises 24 km of tarmac from Coppet and 1,100m or so of ascent. Perhaps we are trying to prove that we are not dead yet, albeit the ride itself might force such a conclusion, especially on such a hot sunny day.

I had just turned that age and Peter Drew who had accomplished this with others of us in 2019, was organising the event and would join me. Peter’s sons were also absent his year and Stephen was stuck now abed in England thinking himself accursed he was not here. Happily Mark Watts was organising a support hiking group who would join us for lunch at the Barillette restaurant, should we make it. Mervyn was going to be delayed but elected to drive up and provide moral and taxi support. These support groups really did give us moral support – a convivial beer and fine meal on a terrace would follow the coming nightmare and this thought kept me going through the ordeal.

Peter and I set off at pace from Divonne Lake and I was disappointed when he told me that our route would be direct, straight up and no messing about, through Crassier and La Rippe to the start of the climb itself. The heat was hot as they say and only slightly diminished as we entered the Bonmont woods. I began to realise that I had forgotten to pack painkillers and electrolyte for my water bottle.

Turning up past Bonmont a large and luxurious Mercedes open top sports car passed us with a biking-now-hiking member waving his cap at us, causing a sap to morale. We were beginning now to weave across the road to shelter from the hot sun on the shady side of the surface. I pulled ahead a little sensing Peter was pedalling in a lower gear than me. We had both done a little training before this day, but perhaps not enough. My biking activities were being curtailed by dog hiking but I had managed the P’tit Bard at 1060m on the road to Combe du Faoug a few days earlier; Peter had trained on the 3 Hills.

Gasping in the heat we stopped at 870m for a rest and a drink. We tried to assess if we could make it with one more stop at 1200m but this proved futile. On we went, an elderly couple on e-bikes sailed up past us. As did a young lady on a road bike. Gradually I realised that Peter was not keeping up behind me and ground to a halt at 1140m. I called him by phone and he said he was resting but would be up shortly. He eventually arrived and we discussed tactics in the continuing heat, his words to me were – just carry on and I’ll see you at the top.

So, on we separately went in lower gears than of past, unremembered, ascents. Trying to blank out the grim reality of what was happening – we were here actually attempting to bike the Barillette – at our ages. At about 1300m or so I stopped with cramp in my right thigh, and another young lady passing me on a VTT calling out “Courage!”. I responded “Crampe!”. Peter was somewhere below and eventually I massaged my leg into action and continued. It was just after the turning to the Chalet de la Dôle that Mervyn passed me in the Batmobile “it’s only the last mile to go” he exhorted waving a red bottle. Finally after more numbing switchbacks and near-cramp leg experiences, Mervyn himself appeared by the roadside with 400m to go, offering to empty the contents of his bottle over my head.

The top was in glorious sun and I collapsed on the ground in relief. We spoke by phone to Peter who was somewhere lower on the mountain but who said he was taking his time and would be up shortly, he suggested we go down to the restaurant. Mervyn duly loaded my bike onto the rack of the Batmobile and we glided down past Mike and Mark Warren who were close to the venue. The terrace was decked out splendidly under some white flecked sunshade material that gave me the impression of paradise above the Shangri-la valley and lake far below. Richard and Mark Watts arrived from La Dôle summit and we quaffed down some beer. Finally Peter arrived looking thinner than usual but in good cheer. Not dead yet we had made it! , and a most convivial lunch followed of salad, sausage and chips, with apricot tart washed downed with several bottles of excellent white wine (I was too exhausted to make a note of the exact make but I think it was indeed Chasselas) then coffee.

Mervyn eventually taxied Peter and I and our bikes safely down to the heat of the Terre Sainte and home.

Many thanks indeed to everyone involved. The support team were amazing and the lunch was great. Peter D deserves a special medal for joining me in conditions that were far hotter than we had previously experienced. Thanks too to Richard for the magnesium meds. They worked and I had no further cramps.

Apologies from absent friends from Stephen, Philip, Paul and Thatcher – and there may have been others, my apologies to them. We toasted absent friends and missed them.

Ebikes next time ?

The author at the top, on a bottle provided later by Mervyn (Merci M!). To be laid down for a year or two.

Mervyn and Mike

With Mark W

With Mark W

Beam me up