51 Km. 6 or so hours.

It was hard to leave Chez Bear Ski Lodge, a little slice of homey heaven in Briancon, but since the hail stopped the night before it was time to move on. We had eaten a lasagna dinner and shared wine with the other guests at a big long table the night before. A really sweet family from England–mother, father and 11 year old son who is an oboe prodigy; a Swiss cyclist (reserved but nice enough); a IronMan-competing triathlon couple from Florida. The wife was nice but the husband had apparently graduated from the Lance Armstrong School of Dicky-ness and had no time to be friendly to anyone except occasionally the Swiss cyclist who I guess he deemed worthy. Our hosts were the kindest couple in the whole world, though, and if you are ever in that area– it was one of the most special, beautiful places I’ve ever stayed in. Magical. Also a dear friend had sent us a care package there: soap, shampoo, foot cream, bandages… we needed all of it! So we were in total luxury for about 17 hours and as I dozed in the den to the sound of the hail the crick in my neck went away.

As we rode in the early morning out of Briancon we passed a surreal sight. Garishly painted train cars of a traveling circus, like out of another century. See Zorro the Magnificent! Or something it said. Bright orange and red and yellow signs. Most of the train cars were closed or draped over, but one was open: the lion’s cage. A huge adult male lion, just sitting there. We were on the other side of the street but if I had crossed over I could have reached through the iron bars and touched him–not that I would. I couldn’t believe it. Clearly I had my animal for the day. As we rode on we could hear him roaring. There is no sound like that in the world.

We began the Col D’Izoard. 17km, but the first few not a bad climb. Mostly forest-y on the way up, and quiet. No cars, hardly any cyclists except one group of Brits and Americans also on their way to Nice–“We’ll see you in the bar!” “Absolutely!” It was a long, slow, lonely climb. Gabriel was strong yesterday so he was way ahead of me. Rain was threatening the whole day (merciful to have no sun, though) so we were crossing our fingers that we would get up and descend before wetness hit. Three hours or so to the top. The landscape was drier than previous climbs. Big jagged mountains jabbing the sky, but no grass or snow. We bought t-shirts at a souvenir store up there. Bundle up, eat a bar, then down. After the big descent we were riding forever through canyons, alongside a river where people were white-water rafting. We went through several tunnels. In one of the last ones, something stung my thigh. I saw it for a split second and it wasn’t a bee–at least it wasn’t yellow. I pulled over and pulled out the stinger. Damn! Seriously–now I’m just getting insulted. I pulled down my tights in the road–nothing was swelling up or anything. I’m so passed the point of giving a shit if someone drives by when I’ve got my pants down or whatever I’m doing. So much goes on when you’re riding for so long– grunts and moans are coming out of me, bodily fluids, talking to myself…I am the animal now. We got to our hotel in Guillestre and we are here for 2 days. They have a jacuzzi! (What is this thing you humans call a jacuzzi? Bring me to this thing!) Actually though I can’t use it because my wounds aren’t healed enough to be dunking them in public waters. DAMN AGAIN!

Last night we Skyped with my parents–so good to speak to loved ones in the real world. The rain was coming down but we donned our sexy crossing-guard ponchos and walked into the village and had a great (and large) dinner in a restaurant built in an old farmhouse. This morning we slept in because its a rest day!!! And my body almost feels normal today. (I still have to turn myself all night like a slow-cooking rotisserie chicken so that I don’t put prolonged pressure on any one injured body part). Today the sun is out and we have no agenda except to explore the village and nap as needed. Tomorrow we ride again. We only have 4 more days of riding, I can’t believe it. If we continue on schedule, we’ll be in Nice on the 23rd…