Day Three - Snow Day

Day 3 Val D'Isere to Valloire
106km
We are half way up the I'Iseran which is a 48km climb from Bourg St Maurice, we continue on the last 15km that averages 6% to reach almost 3000metres high. We start the day knowing that the Col l’iseran is snow capped. This is a tough mountain with very step parts. It is the second highest point in Europe! We begin cycling all at the same time. 75 riders leave and me near the back see the mountain roads heading up dotted with fireflies. It shows me the way but also the gradient of the climbing to come. I pace myself and Chris, a faster, stronger rider sticks with me and films with his helmet cam. We chat and laugh and become mountain buddies, even if you don’t talk it is nice to have company.
Your breathing and pedaling gets in sync and without a word, you help push each other onwards and upwards. We climb at a good pace, overtaking people and greeting them and encouraging them. I listen to my breathing and don’t push too hard. I surprise myself as I feel strong. I am feeling positive and am into the ride now. As we get about halfway into the climb we reach the snow. Woody tells us the roads ahead are cold but clear. We push on and my warm layers that seemed unnecessary at the bottom now become necessary as it starts to snow heavily. The temperature at the top of the col is -3 degrees. We have snow falling on us for about 40 minutes of climbing, we joke at the vast whiteness and floating road, we have reached in heaven. Our bike frames are covered in snow and any exposed hair is gaining icicles. At the top I get a picture in the snow by the altitude sign. After a quick bite to eat my fingers start to freeze. Back on with the gloves and I start to descend alone into the whiteness.

Visibility is low and my face and hands are freezing. I am squeezing the breaks as hard as I can and I am not sure that I can tell whether I’m breaking or not. I get an overwhelming feeling of fear and start to break down. My core temperature has dropped so low and I am shaking on the bike. There is no sign of the snow letting up or that I am getting closer to the end of the snow on the mountain. As the cold gets to me I start to panic about what the best thing is to do. I’m terrified to keep cycling and have very poor visibility but I can’t stay where I am. I stop to shake my hands to regain feeling. Two fireflies who are behind me stop. Paul give me his spare knee warmers and wraps them around my gloves for warmth. He adjusts my breaks so that they are closer to the wheel rims. I continue with them but loose them on the snow filled icy roads. I stopped again, terrified I might end up over the edge because I have lost sensation in my fingers again. Thrashing my hands around I feel the blood slowly flow and try to continue, in floods of tears that freeze to my face. After a short while I come across a tunnel and silhouettes of cyclists jumping around and huddling. I roll towards them shaking and bubbling over in a state of delirium, close to hypothermia. They wrap their arms around me and lift me off the bike. Dr Bob, one of the oldest riders (and yes, a doctor) has some hand warmers, he rips off my wet, freezing (winter) gloves and rubs them. Unzipping my jacket I wrap my arms around me and clench my hands under my armpits, the best way to get warmth. We stand close together in a circle for warmth ad do the hokey cokey to stay sane and keep moving. A vehicle passes and offers help to get us off the mountain. The blizzard moved in so quickly that we are lucky the tunnel was there. A few fireflies further down the mountain hid in a cow shed and others flagged down passing cars. We were all on the verge of hypothermia, shaking uncontrollably and frozen. The support crew rescue all the riders off the mountain as the snow and wind whips around as we descend in vehicles. The support crew rescue all the riders off the mountain as the snow and wind whips around as we descend in vehicles. The bikes are left for the support team to return for when we are all safe and getting warm. In a small cafe out of the snow, we huddle and drink chocolat chaud and eat warm food. We are all wet, cold and recovering.

The sun comes out and slowly we start to move away from the trauma of the snowy mountain. Most of us realize how close to freezing and death we just were and how insignificant we are on these mountains and in these fast moving weather fronts and environment.


We embrace the beaming sunshine and stark contrast in blue skies continuing forth slowly still stunned by what just happen. I take it very slowly and cycle with Tess and Alan over to Telegraphe. As we continue on the descent, I contemplate our luck. I am overwhelmed by what we have just been through and find the ride a little scary. I realize how vulnerable we are upon our trusty steads and the damage that can be done by mother nature. We might be a Tour de Force but there are forces way stronger than us that can change our lives forever. This felt ambiguous and is essentially why we were all here doing the Fireflies Ride. We finish the day elated and closer than before sharing hugs and stories of our rescues.