Col d’Eze, and beyond
Col d’Eze, and beyond
Never order white coffee in France! Let that be a warning for you.
Kicking off the day with a white coffee, it’s just repulsive. From now on I’m only ordering an espresso. It’s safer that way.So I got up early, especially in France, to tackle the Col d’Eze and beyond. Not knowing where the beyond was/is. Hoping to reach the Col de la Madone.
Riding in France is just so easy. I’ve never felt intimidated by car drivers. The surfaces are smooth. It’s probably been good training on large chip roads. I made a mistake yesterday and started cycling down a road that I shouldn’t have been on. The drivers informed me, but weren’t aggressive. They tooted politely, wound down their windows, and softly told me that I shouldn’t be here. I’m ok with that communication, providing you don’t abuse me.
So up the Col d’Eze I went for the second day. 27° at 7am. It was always going to be hot. I took my suntan spray, some extra water, and a tool kit. There were neve going to lots of cars passing me, just thousands of scooters. They really are a city’s best friend.
The views on the climb up and out of Nice are spectacular. They offer something for everyone. As soon as you turn off of the main Montecarlo road it quietens up. A total of 5 cars passed me from there on in. I headed for the village of La Turbie. A quaint, but lively, village that offers a refill of water, and all other amenities.From there, head for Peille, this is where I went wrong. I should have been looking out for a village called Bompin, except my roaming maps weren’t working and I flew straight through. From Bompin you head up to the Col de la Madone, my goal for staying in Nice. Bummer.
Coming down the other side was an eye opener. From the solitude of the Col to the hustle and bustle of Nice. I had a few scary moments where I had no idea where I was going. Faced with rush hour traffic I played it safe.
Later that day, an old friend from school messaged me. He was only fucking staying about 30km away. Right, get the bike ready and we were away. The bike and me that is.
Cycling along Les Promenade Des Anglaise is amazing. Not for the speed, but for what you see and experience. It contains every bit of life’s colour. This part of my day was less about speed, more about experience. I tootled along the prom. Then tried to navigate my way up the hill. Two punctures later and I got to see one of my dearest school friends from Fort Hill.
After a couple of beers and good chinwag with all that were staying at the house in Le Rouret, it was time to head back downtown. A couple named Suzanna and Paul Cundy were amazing hosts, and it turns out know another friend of mine from the UK, Chris Childs. They all cycle at Lee Valley velodrome. Just amazing.
So on to my true rest days. Today sees me walking, not cycling, to Café du Cycliste. A company founded here in Nice. They make exquisite cycling apparel. Tomorrow sees the opening of the race village. Then this shit gets real.
