“What fresh hell is this?” Dorothy Parker

July 16th: Bessans to Valloire. 70 km. Lots and lots of hours
July 17th: Valloire to Briancon. A little less of both

They say bad luck comes in threes. Well ours did. (I’m not going to count the merciless 90 degree heat riding uphill; the Old Testament-style plague of flies we road through in one of the valleys; or my flat tire going up the Col de Telegraphe which Gabriel had to change twice because the first tube was broken). Ok, here are are the three:

1) The fall (3 days ago now)

2) Upon reaching the top of the Col de Telegraphe yesterday, I realized I had left my little purse (holding my money, credit cards, Iphone, and passport) down in the last town we had stopped in to have coffee and a snack before the climb. The young guy at the pizzeria had filled my water bottles for me–nice cold water from his bar tap. I had set my little money bag down–outside, on their outdoor patio–as I got myself organized, and never picked it back up. So now its hours later, and we’re at the top of the Col. Well there was a taxi parked up there but it was broken down or something. We decided I would stay with the bikes while Gabriel hitched a ride back down to St. Michelle de Maurienne and back to the pizzeria. We stood in the middle of the road with our thumbs out, and guess who came by? The Guy With The Van! He does exist, and he was a nice, kindly fellow who drove Gabriel all the way down while I waited with the bikes.
As I waited, I surrendered. (It helps when you’re too tired to even be upset). I thought: credit cards can be cancelled, Iphone replaced, passport—well, sucky. But if I have to stay here a couple of extra weeks while embassies sort things out, so be it. All I ask now is that Gabriel return to me safely. That’s all that matters really. Please just don’t let him get murdered by The Man with the Van. He was back in an hour or so. Driven by another Man with a Van (another hitch) and with my purse in hand which he held up in victory. The sweet guy at the pizzeria had found it and saved it. Good people. So after that, elated, we rode down into Valloire and found our hotel (not our best choice) and then found a restaurant (a much better choice) and ate a dinner of thick vegetable soup, crepes, and peach sorbet. By the way, the Good Luck animals that day were two mules in a field cos I thought: that’s Gabriel and I, two pack mules.

3) Today, July 17th. I woke up from another bad night of sleep. (I can’t sleep on my left side because of my bruises, and if anything touches my cut up right knee I wake up. I’m an achey, cranky mess in the morning. Plus I tweeked my neck somehow too. I get slightly less miserable after some cafe au lait and Advil). Plus we are way short on first aid supplies. Not every village has a pharmacy, and that’s the only place you can get medical tape and cotton wrappings and I seem to keep underestimating how much I need. We’ve also had to duct tape the holes (from the fall) in my cycling pants, cos we haven’t found a sports store selling another pair. (They’ve got plenty of ski supplies though). So we are full ghetto-style cyclists now with our duct tape and slapped-together bandages. So I wake up, pained and mad, and I open my email to find that someone back in the US has gotten his (or her) hands on my Amex info and has gone to town at Home Depot and Target. Now, I have my card here with me (and it wasn’t the guy at the pizzeria because the charges were several days ago). So someone got the card number and is shopping online? But they also had a 7-11 charge so how does that work? Online 7-11 shopping? So then its a Skype call to Amex to deal with it (but I discover the hard way I have to stand in a particular one foot circumference spot in the hotel ” lobby”–if you want to call it that– to not lose the phone connection to whichever Amex person I’m talking to in India). So finally the card is cancelled and we get on the road. That, I can only pray, was number three.

Immediately our route takes us up the Col de Galibier. 17 km, some at up to 9 and 10% incline. The good luck animal: a marmot in a field! I’ve never seen one before. But still I’m obsessing about the Amex thing. Can they actually take your info and manufacture a fake card? Probably. I’m pissed. But I console myself that maybe it was some guy who really needed some stuff– Home Depot, Target. At least it wasn’t Neimans and Saks. I spend the first hour trying to figure it all out and I have to keep reminding myself to be present and look at the view. Which was spectacular. And then this really cool thing happened. I looked down in the valley and saw sheep — hundreds of them–and they were coming up the mountain toward the road. Then they started crossing the road and we had to stop—me, another cyclist, a couple of cars–and this big fluffy white dog was there and he was standing in the middle of the road stopping the traffic. We all just stood there, people got out of their cars, everyone’s mouth agape as hundreds of sheep crossed and continued up the mountain–from babies staggering to keep up to adult males with the curved horns–all shepherded by this one yawning dog. (All in a day’s work for him). And then after several minutes the sheep-herder drove up in his truck with a few other dogs. He gave a command and the dogs parted the sheep in the road to let the cars and cyclists pass. I was so awestruck by the beauty of the whole thing I forgot to take a picture of course. There were still hundreds coming up the mountain as I passed through.

Col de Galibier: hard, but early in the day which made it seem easier. I ate every hour, hungry or not. (Learned my lesson about altitude and blood sugar and all that didn’t I?) Rainclouds were forming overhead and I knew what Gabriel was thinking: Please don’t rain before we finish the descent. At the top, we ate again, and bundled up quickly to go down. (He rides behind me on descents now, new policy). Down and down and down and no real rain, just a few teasing droplets. Finally arrived in Briancon and found or hotel which is about the most charming place I’ve ever been. Five rooms, a cozy ski lodge, owned by a British couple. Impeccable and homey at the same time. A sauna (Not that we’ll be using that. I’ve had enough sweat today, thanks), a den, a cinema room. Its a little outside of town so we will eat dinner here at a long table with the other guests, also cyclists. Plat du jour is lasagna. Perfect. My mouth is watering already. And now we’re inside and so cozy and showered in our robes (they provide robes here, what a concept!) and now its HAILING outside. Gabriel went down to the den and reported that there is a cat here that looks exactly like Lola. Maybe we’ll be stuck here an extra day. 🙂