Five months ago, we were eating from a breakfast buffet in a fully booked hotel in a famous ski town. We hugged and kissed our friends, rode chairlifts with strangers, and didn't pay attention when another stranger coughed or sneezed on the bus. It seems that those days have grown into the days of legend as we've all started working on returning, not to normal, but to a better tomorrow.
Just days after our return from the Swiss Alps, the Spanish government enacted a State of Alarm. Implementing strict regulations set to help thwart the spread of the virus and stopping us from leaving our tiny apartment for anything but food. Months went by, and gradually, the situation seemed to improve. We were able to exercise outside our home and eventually granted permission to leave the country.
The idea of traveling further than Catalunya seemed like taking a trip to some far off lands. Returning to the mountains again was digging deep into our souls, and thinking about how we could keep to ourselves and keep others safe while we moved from place to place would be solved (we hoped) by moving into a van for 30 days. With most of our worldly belongings (bikes, gear, socks, passport, and wine opener) able to fit in a van, we picked up all the comforts of home we'd need for 30 days on the road and headed north to the Spanish Pyrenees.
Searing summer heat welcomed us to the town of Ainsa, whether we liked it or not. The village is a sort of central starting point for an area of trails called Zona Zero. From the start of our riding experiences here in Spain everyone would always mention this zone as a must-see. We quickly learn why and agreed. The trails are well marked and maintained, two things that are very rarely combined in a trail system here in Europe. With useful maps and a wealth of information about the trails online, we found the area offered some of the best riding in the Pyrenees.
With daytime temperatures over 30 degrees celsius, we managed to stay hydrated and fueled up for the long climbs and exciting trails. Every day seemed to be a welcome reconnection to the outdoors. The trials wove us through village after village, and as one scenic view after another built our stoke, we felt more than blessed to be able to enjoy a trip away from the city. This portion of our trip opened our eyes to the Pyrenees and their stature. The mountain range is littered with National Parks, and we quickly fell in love with the areas we'd be riding. Outside Zona Zero, we had to do a little more research to find the riding we wanted to do and always found worthy rides with incredible views. As we eased into vacation mode and loosed our filters and expectation about the riding, we found ourselves in a familiar place we had been missing dearly—the mountains.
We made a few stops near Baqueira, Spain, where the elevation was slightly higher and temps much cooler. The first week would be a bit of a test in finding our groove with the van and van life. We found that sleeping is crucial if you want to ride every day. And that sleeping inside a van in the summer heat is not conducive for a good night's rest. Even with a van to sleep in, our trusty tent was still our favorite resting place for a refreshing and full night's sleep. Before we left Barcelona, we had premade days of food and frozen it to make on the road to help keep us out of supermarkets and town. The van had a legitimate refrigerator and freezer, which made our lives so much easier. Not having to decide what to cook after a day of riding gave us more time to enjoy the outside shower and cold wine.
The first week wrapped up, so we headed back to the city to resupply with more food we didn't have space for initially. A shower, a night's sleep in a king-sized bed, laundry (How many days do you wear a shammy without washing it? Gross), and a quick check to make sure all the tomato and pepper plants had officially died after a week without rain. We made our turnaround in under 24 hours and b-lined it for France and the Alps. Within a couple of hours of leaving Barcelona, we started our fight with the Tramontana winds. Our b-line abruptly turned into an s-line. These mistral winds that converge between the Pyrenees and the Alps can reach 40 to 50 knots on a slow day. The highway is positioned perfectly perpendicular to these winds and create havoc for vehicles over a couple of meters tall. Gripped is what comes to mind as a way of best describing the anxiety when you feel when your rented van almost lifts off the road as the crosswind does it's best to blow you over. I think my hands finally stopped sweating as we pulled into Alp d'Heuz some 500 kilometers later.
There's no doubt that France is one of our happy places. Being able to return there under the current state of the world brought on feelings of gratitude and calm. Our only contact would be with the herds of cattle or sheep surrounding our camps or lining the trails we'd ride. The number of humans in town, on the trails, on the road, was noticeable different. The summer crowds were nonexistent. Our only scare of the trip was in a Les Deux Alpes tram car full of Spanish ski racer kids peeling off their morning ski gear in the tram along with their masks. Their surprise when Heidi asked them to put their masks back on in Spanish was a sight.
When we planned on taking this trip in early June, we didn't think we'd be able to travel much further than northern Spain, but as restrictions eased and the borders opened, the pull of the alps was evident. We decided to focus on the southern side of the French alps in case the borders suddenly closed we need to boogie home. That thought would continuously fill our minds as just days of arriving in France, a new wave of cases sent the Catalunya government into a tizzy. The papers teased of potential border restrictions. We prepared to hightail it home on a moment's notice.
This plan to keep south gave us the opportunity to explore some regions of the alps we'd never thought to visit. We were grateful to be able to travel, but exploring new spots also made it exciting and fresh. We started in the Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes region that includes the resort towns of Alp d'Heuz and Les Deux Alpes. With a rich history in road biking and the Tour de France, this area is gaining the respect of mountain bikers worldwide. We found the quieter Alp d'Heuz to be more our style. The trails take you beyond the manicured park riding and into a more natural setting and more rugged trails. If you're interested in seeing what trails we rode throughout the trip, click on the Strava icon on the right side of our main page for more details. Most days are included but don't expect to find all 25 days of riding. Sometimes we forget.
La Grave is a place of lore for most alpinists, skiers, and now more recently mountain bikers. Located in the Hautes-Alpes region, La Grave's setting is an overwhelming sight. The high alpine peaks still hold glaciers and tower over the tiny town, and it's inhabitants. Le Meije dominates the skyline, humbling even the most experienced fun-seekers. Now we were in our groove. Finding a campsite along the Romanche river under a canopy of trees brought back memories of camping in Colorado, rafting, and how much we miss all the people that come with those experiences. The riding in La Grave is as expected. Loose, rough, and very steep. We tested our skills for a day off the famous funicular before easing into the longer local rides with views that repeatedly interrupted our rides. A return is in the works.
Staying within the Hautes-Alpes region, we drove over the stunning Col du Lautaret to Serre Chevalier, where we'd spend only a couple of days. Here we found some exciting riding and a killer camp spot (with its own friendly sheepherder) but really fell in love with the idea of skiing here in the winter. Unfortunately, pushing my bike uphill for way too long is still too fresh in my mind to give Serre Chevalier a real chance, so we'll come back when it snows.
What's a summer road trip in the Alps without driving a large vehicle over as many high mountain passes as possible? And why not, the views far outweigh the mix of speeding Italian motorcyclists with death wishes and the suffering road bikers who find the joy in it all. Before we could climb over the Col d'Iseran to Val d'Isere, we'd needed a stop in Bardonecchia, Italy, for a restock of all things Italian and materials for a carbonara dinner along the Torrent du Ribon, a tributary of the Arc river, and our favorite campsite yet.
Making our way back to the Savoie region of France is starting to feel like a homecoming. We love it here. Given an opportunity to live here would be hard to pass up. Back on bikes in Val d'Isere and Tignes, we found flowy riding that runs the expanse of the two resorts and offers plenty of variety from the top of the summer chairlifts and trams. The camping choices weren't optimal, but we made do with what was available and found the riding made up of camping in a parking lot. With a solid two days of riding the area, it was time to reunite with Ben and Nelly in Bourg St. Maurice.
Ben is a mountain guide and a good friend who is always happy to show us the local goods. Usually, these trails take max effort to get to, and this trip wasn't any different. The summer heat was in full effect in France with valley temps somewhere between scorching and kill me now. We'd spend two days with Ben and Nelly riding their local trails (one of which Ben made during the lockdown and another in La Plagne) and couldn't have been more grateful to spend time with them and their son Leo. Any time we can spend with people we love seems to hold even more value these days than it has in the past and quickly reminds us how much we'll appreciate the next time we get to visit all those we miss and think about while on these adventures. Thanks again Team Roumier, we love you all and hope to see you this winter.
The valley heat drove us back to the upper elevations of the Col du Petit Saint Bernard on the Italy/France border above Bourg St. Maurice. We found a lovely spot along the pass to welcome the approaching thunderstorm that would give us relief from the heat. The next day we crossed the border into Italy, where the Mont Blanc watched over us as we made the relaxing descent to the town of La Thuile. La Thuile has some fantastic mountain biking, but we were there for the amazing food at Pepita's. Ever since Ben and Nelly introduced us to this restaurant, we've made it a staple when we're within a stone's throw. This may have been the fifth time we've eaten there, and I can't wait for the sixth. The food is so fresh and delicious; it always demands a return visit. After a full plate of pasta, wine, meat, cheese, and coffee, we rolled onto the chairlift to the top of La Thuile for a causal descent back to the van in France.
With enough time to squeeze in one more stop on this month-long journey, we decided to visit another new area in Meribel. Meribel is just down the road from Bourg St. Maurice and still in the gorgeous Tarentaise Valley. We found Meribel to be the perfect place to wrap up the trip. It was by far the quietest resort we visited, and we had all the amazing trails to ourselves. With singletrack descending 1500 meters over 20 kilometers of rugged terrain, it's any mountain bikers dream. Heidi still can't stop bringing up our three days in Meribel.
This trip will live a long time on our memories for many reasons. 30 days living out of a van, 25 days of mountain biking, outdoor showers, the heat, the wind, the way of the world, new resorts and town, and old friends. But it will surely help get us through the great unknown the future holds and back to the new, better days ahead with those we love.