Buckinghamshire is not the hilliest of counties. Granted the Dunstable Downs are a short ride away but true mountains are a distant thought, both figuratively and literally. Still, we cycle up our category 4 climbs dreaming of something grander; something truly epic. That something often looks a great deal like the Col de Pailhères.
This was the ride that my father and I had been looking forward to, and a truly once-in-a-lifetime opportunity afforded to us by our summer family holiday in Céret just an hour east of the central Pyrenees. Our ride would start from the small market town of Axat; from there we would slowly head north to the ski station of Rouges and up the HC Pailhères. Once at the summit it would be a steep and fast descent to the bottom of the category 2 Col de Pradel. Finally, from the summit of the Pradel it would be downhill all the way back to Axat.
The route was uphill from the start; a gradual 3-5 percent ramp for an hour all the way to the feet of the Pailhères. From here it would be two hours of climbing heaven. Now, just to set the scene, here is my less than illustrious climbing palmarès: by far the longest and most difficult hill I've undertaken in my short cycling career is the category 3 Kirkstone Pass in the Lakes. Apart from this it was the climbs from stage 1 of this year's Tour in Yorkshire. There isn't a climb above a category 3 within a 100 mile radius of my house. So the HC, 1100 metre, 15km megalith was sure to be a test for my frankly amateurish legs.
The ascent was spellbinding from the start, especially for a fresh-faced fool like me who had never even ridden up a switchback. We (or more accurately I, as my Dad shot off never to be seen again) climbed up through Rouges and on to the real climbs. We snaked further up the valley passing hilariously stereotypical bell-wearing cows and 'closed-for-the-summer' ski resorts. The legs began to sting slightly but my frequent intake of energy gels and water was keeping me ticking.
Perhaps the most disheartening event of the first hour's toil was being passed by what appeared to be a man in his late 60s riding a bike from the late 60s who, despite his alarming huffing and puffing, was leaving all the other cycling pilgrims in his dust. Nevertheless, the stunning views were more than enough to keep going.
The second hour's climbing is where the Col becomes truly legendary. Switchbacks galore, stunning views over the high Pyrenees, and pro teams (Madison Genesis) passing me on their way down. It was cycling heaven and I didn't have to die to get in. In fact, I was finding the going relatively good, a factor that would come back to haunt me later on in the ride.
I made the most of the views as the kilometre markers ticked by and before I knew it I had reached the windy summit. I knew what I'd just finished was a climb to treasure: the second highest summit in the Pyrenees, the memory of which was going to get me through all of those damp and cold winter training rides around Milton Keynes.
After a brief hiatus at the top to take photos and the like the descent began. With wide roads and long straight sections the western side of the Pailhères was ideal for racking up some serious speed, suiting my heavier disposition much better than the battle against gravity waged on the other side of the Col.
However, the fun was over all too quickly and the climbing began again. This time up the category 2, 7.2 kilometres long Col du Pradel. The stunning views blessing the Pailhères were decidedly lacking from the Pradel. In fact, t he climb proved somewhat of a slog up a breezeless and stiflingly hot valley with very little to look at to pass the time other than trees and the occasional bell-toting cow. This was made all the tougher by the HC climb that had already clawed away at my leg muscles.
The top was soon reached, as it always is, and from here it was downhill all the way to Axat. And what a descent it was. All the wonder and spectacle of the Pailhères was almost trumped by a descent that took in rustic mountain villages, limestone tunnels and distant mountaintop castles. What's more, it was fun and fast and required little effort.
We reached the car park back down in Axat, and knew we had climbed to the pinnacle of the Olympus of cycling, a ride that would be difficult to ever eclipse.
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