Beach to Bonette
Transhumance is the seasonal movement of people and their animals between low and high ground. In the mountains, part one is the ascension to abundant mountain pastures in the summer, part two is the descent to the valleys for winter shelter . In Saint-Étienne-de-Tinée, at the southern foot of the Col de la Bonette, there is an annual festival to celebrate the process.
The cyclists of the Provence-Alpes-Côte-d’Azur region are no different from the shepherds and their herds. As soon as the déneigement team has finished its annual battle with the snow, riders flock to the Bonette. It’s an annual habit for Café du Cycliste, although this year we were a bit late to the party.
Normally it’s a rushed drive up to the base at Saint-Étienne-de-Tinee to get to the col whilst the snow banks are still high and passing traffic low (not that this climb is ever as busy as its more famous counterparts). Having missed the opening week due to Ventoux gravel adventures, why not slow it down and ride up for sunset?
From the beach to the Bonette has a nice ring to it. And statistics to match – from zero metres above sea level to 2,802m in 120kms. Like any serious ride, it is best broken down into the parts that make the whole.
INTRO: WE ARE LIKE ROCKS
Nice does not have fine white sandy beaches. It has galets, those smooth oval pebbles that are formed in the rush and tumble of the rivers that flow from the mountain tops of the Alpes-Maritimes. Riding in the opposite direction – up, ever up – shapes and moulds us cyclists, just as the rivers shape the stones.
We rode to the Promenade, put some galets in our pockets, clipped in and rode north.
PART ONE: A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT
First the wide open plains of the Var, from the estuary at the Med, to the confluence with first the Vesubie, and then the Tinée.
Locally the valley is known for its two-directional wind. Headwind in the morning before the land mass heats up, tailwind in the afternoon. Luckily we planned to hit the summit at sunset, so it was tailwind to the bridge.
PART TWO: IN BETWEEN ROCKS & A HARD PLACE
Plan-du-Var is like a gateway hamlet between the open plains and the valley gorges.
Almost immediately the road is clinging to the high rock face while the river rages below. It’s easy to miss the tiny road to the Tinée valley on the right, which like the water is squeezed between the cliffs of the Gorges de la Mescla.
The road and the river criss-cross each other and we discover a “Parcours de pêche a la mouche”. Fly fishing in the belly of the mountains, a scene of tranquility soundtracked by the noise of the rapids. Apparently there’s a “no kill” policy. Which is a bit like the riding pace. With a 24km climb at the top of the valley, it’s a case of keeping the powder dry.
PART THREE: RED ROCKS & BUNKERS
After the junction that leads up to Rimplas with its tennis-court-equipped concrete bunker, the landscape changes dramatically. Out of the deep grey gorge and into the higher and more open one that is a battle between the almost luminous green horse chestnut trees and red shale rock.
We’ve been part of Bunker Research before so are fully aware of not only the road side forts but also those perched above that stare down on us. This road was originally a matter of national importance for its founder, Napoleon III, and later one of national security during WW2. It flattens out and snakes its way north with an almost constant faux-plat manner.
PART FOUR: HALF-TIME SAVIOUR SAINT
Cyclists are, as we all know, saved by patisseries. Being located almost exactly halfway up the valley, the boulangerie in Saint-Saveur-de-Tinée is regarded as an essential fuelling point (even if you are in the car). The tropézienne is trop bon.
Rivers from the side valleys here powered the old mill, in a village which was once more commercial than touristic. On the northern outskirts the Col de la Couillole climbs out of the valley towards Roubion. It’s easy to forget in this sleepy town that the Tour used to pass through here and the Couillole was a contributing factor to The Canibal’s grand defaillance in 1975.
PART FIVE: TO THE BASE
There are many great climbs out of the Tinée valley. Always, on the way to the Bonette, the arrival at Isola tells you the end of the valley is near. Known more for the ski station 2,000m old-town Isola is the starting point for the Col de la Lombarde. It's a beauty of a climb in itself and scene of ‘What About Joe’ during the 2016 Giro.
But our pilgrimage is to ‘Europe’s Highest Road’ so it is up and over the final valley ‘climb’. On the summit of the hill before the town, nature is putting on a light show as if to suggest we have arrived in cycling heaven.
PART SIX: ON THE SLOPES, ON THE ROPES.
There is no time to stop in Saint-Étienne. Sunset may be at 2100h on the Promenade, but the sun dips below the sea’s horizon first and that is a long way for the light to travel to reach the Cime at the top.
The treat for us comes above the hamlet of Bouseyias, past the half-way point on the climb. The world is divided in two parts; light to the east and shadow to the left. Like the gorge below, the green grass that leads the whole way up to Camp des Fourches, is iridescent. We may have been behind the other riders, but we are ahead of the shepherds and their sheep and are surrounded by the reason they keep coming back.
We enter the familiar last section of dark grey rocks, dappled with light and the last remnants of snow. The Col is open, but the Cime has been closed off, amusingly, by a barricade of snow. We demount and follow the last rays and, distracted by the view, the 15% slopes are less painful than expected.
OUTRO: STONED AT ALTITUDE
It’s probably the effect of the altitude. We almost forget the galets in our pockets. Pulling out the pebbles and placing them on the roadside does exactly what it was intended to – immediately, standing on the lunar landscape with the sun setting behind the peaks, the contrast to the busy beach at the start of the day is almost too much to comprehend.
RIDERS' NOTES
Komoot Route - click here
Footnotes: Photography : Matt Wragg
