Cyclist
Big Ride: Master and apprentice in the Pyrenees
Asphalt must have been in short supply when the Col de Beyrède was paved. It’s the only explanation I can think of for its sadistic steepness: that there simply wasn’t enough road to take a less severe route to its 1,417m summit.
This is the unknown Pyrenees. We’re barely two kilometres from one of the range’s most famous climbs yet the one we’re on is almost entirely overlooked. The Strava stats at the time of writing reveal that fewer than 1,000 users have climbed Beyrède. Maybe most people know better.
The Col du Tourmalet, by contrast, needs little introduction. No climb has featured more frequently in the Tour de France. This titan of the borderlands rises to 2,115m and this year marks its 90th appearance in the Tour since it was first scaled in 1910.
In fact, last year it hosted three Grand Tours, with the Tour, Tour de France Femmes and Vuelta a España all having summit finishes atop its slopes. Such is the Tourmalet’s legend, it’s less a case of the mountain being honoured to receive the races as the races visiting to honour the mountain.
Our route today is a clockwise loop of increasing difficulty that takes in the best of both worlds: one half covers some of the most famous and oft-ridden roads in the Pyrenees, the other scurries through the region’s foothills, lanes and barely passable passes. These are the service tunnels, the spaces between.
Blue skies and bright eyes
The air is chilly as my ride partner Dave and I set off from my guesthouse in Villelongue at the foot of Hautacam, but there isn’t a cloud in sight. We’re immediately onto winding side roads and passing through pretty villages. Turning east into a gorge and out of the shadow of the Hautacam Massif, the rays of the rising sun dance in the waters of the stream that runs parallel to the road.
At the Col de Lingous (620m) we turn right and continue up to the Col de la Croix Blanche (858m), the gradient mild save for a sharp kick in the final kilometre. There is a quicker and easier way across these hills if you want to save your legs, but the views across the foothills and out over the plains to the north are worth the effort on a clear day like this.
The descent is fast and fun, if a little too narrow and dirty to really let loose. It peters out progressively and we’re pedalling properly again by the time we reach the village of Pouzac. If we continued south on this road we’d reach the eastern side of the Tourmalet in what is a popular 100km loop, but we have other plans. We skirt around Bagnères-de-Bigorre and head back into the scenery.
Two hours in, we reach our second summit of the day, the Col de Palomières, via 4.5km of climbing at 5.6% that is sedate enough to allow conversation to be had uninterrupted.
The descent down the other side is equally gentle – a serene reduction of altitude but still quick enough that pedalling isn’t required. It takes us into a small, claustrophobic gorge and a series of short climbs. These hills, the Barronnies, are mere pimples compared to the mountains that rise behind them, but they’re so closely packed that it feels like we’re threading through them.
Emerging at Hèche with 72km ridden, we turn south onto the big valley road and settle into time-trial mode, swapping turns and keeping the pace brisk.
The steepening
It’s easy to miss the turning for the Col de Beyrède – it’s a narrow road indicated by a very small sign – but you know all about it when you’re on it. The road quickly rises before us, hitting 10… then 12… then 14%.
Breathing becomes deeper and more purposeful, every pedal stroke now a concerted effort. Across the relatively easy sequence of climbs to this point we have been careful to conserve ammunition, and this is why. Plus there’s still the small matter of the Tourmalet to come.
It’s much warmer now, and the village of Beyrède-Jumet midway up the climb feels like an oven. We’re grateful to reach the dense forest beyond and some sporadic shade, especially since the pitch eases off at this point too. But the respite is short-lived and, in truth, the ramping up of the gradient with around 4km to go is hardly unexpected.
The gradient cranks up deep into double digits and stays there as time itself seems to slow along with our speed and cadence. But, eventually, the road runs out of mountain with which to torture us and we’re released onto the summit plateau with nothing but a few donkeys and cows for company, none of which so much as look up, let alone congratulate us.
In August 2020, the Route d’Occitanie became the first pro race to tackle Beyrède and the climb blew the leading group apart as the Ineos Grenadiers train worked to set up an in-form Egan Bernal to take victory at the summit.
While Beyrède is a pass, there’s good reason why it was a summit finish that day. The top part of the descent is very steep and altogether too dangerous for a pro peloton travelling at full tilt, with loose gravel on a road surface that sometimes turns to dirt without warning.
It’s perfectly rideable with a little care, but we’re glad to put the most treacherous stretches behind us as we reach Lac de Payolle, where the Col d’Aspin and Hourquette d’Ancizan meet on their western sides. There’s a cluster of good restaurants here if you’re hungry but we need to press on. Fortunately the rest of the descent is flowing, and when we reach Sainte-Marie de Campan we’re feeling slightly recovered.
Ye be warned
Our computers tick over 100km as we pass the statue of Eugène Christophe brandishing his repaired fork aloft, signalling the start of the Col du Tourmalet. For the opening 5km we roll along in the big ring, but at the village of Gripp things do indeed become grippy. The Tourmalet, seemingly ambivalent until now, gives us its full attention, standing up straight and setting the toll at 10%.
Emerging from the trees, the scale of the thing is laid out before us in a way that only a handful of climbs can rival. Above us, the long Tourmalet ‘semi-tunnel’ is clearly visible, looking impossibly distant despite being barely past halfway up.
By the time we reach it the view back down the valley is spectacular, and we can make out the observatory on the 2,800m Pic du Midi de Bigorre, a full kilometre in altitude above us. It is for these things and many more that the slopes of the Tourmalet are feared and revered in equal measure.
The ski station of La Mongie comes into view straight after the tunnel, at around the 6km to go sign. It is the high mountain equivalent of a 19th century coastal wrecking community luring ships onto the rocks and plundering the goods. It makes you think you’re close to the top, tempts you into using too much energy on slopes that are as steep as its ski hotels are hideous, then offers to salvage the wrecks of your legs at one of its restaurants before presenting a bill that takes all your money.
We sail a steady course and escape their clutches, but scavengers remain in the form of massive griffon vultures circling high above. They’re short of food and there has been at least one reported incident of several birds working together to take down a live sheep. I try not to think about the fact that adult sheep weigh about the same as people.
The summit of the Col du Tourmalet feels more special than most. For a start, there are the high-quality murals that were painted on the road ahead of the Tour’s visit in 2021 by a crew from Belgium.
Then there’s the steep final ramp that ensures every rider has to earn their passage over the pass, followed by a particularly strong sense of cresting a ridgeline as the road turns over the top and a whole new view is served up. The sun fires giant shafts of warmth through breaks in the gathering clouds and onto the sprawling road before us.
We have over 30km still to ride but it’s all downhill from here. After a brief break to enjoy the views we head for home, our Pyrenees experience complete, from B-side to A-side.
Beyrède’s big break
A brief history of the Route d’Occitanie
If you were feeling generous you could describe the Route d’Occitanie as the Pyrenean equivalent of the Critérium du Dauphiné in the Alps. Both enjoy a pre-Tour de France calendar slot to lure GC riders to test and hone their form on a tough parcours, though the Dauphiné is by far the more prestigious race, bigger in every regard. Nor does it serve the same dress-rehearsal role for Tour stages as the Dauphiné, though it does occasionally explore as-yet-unraced climbs such as the Col de Beyrède in 2020, the Col de Couraduque in 2016 and the Col de Spandelles in 2012.
The race began as the Tour du Tarn in 1977, became the Tour Midi-Pyrénées and then the Route du Sud until 2018, when its name was changed to match the new French administrative region of Occitanie, created in 2014 by merging the Midi-Pyrénées with Languedoc-Roussillon.
This left the race with the difficult task of appeasing an area half the size of England and just four stages in which to do it, all while being lured by the beautiful Pyrenees.
The 2020 victor, Egan Bernal, became the fourth different Colombian winner, continuing a strong tradition of success for the nation, which includes numerous stage wins and secondary jerseys.
How we did it
Travel
The Pyrenees are accessible with direct flights from Stansted to Lourdes six days a week in summer and from Dublin three days a week, plus daily flights from Paris for transatlantic connections. It’s only a half hour drive from Lourdes airport to the start of the ride, which just happens to be my guest house,
Escape To The Pyrenees in Villelongue. Pau airport is one hour away, Toulouse two hours, and there’s a good train service to Lourdes. Alternatively, take the overnight ferry from Portsmouth to Saint-Malo which tips out at 9am, leaving you an easy eight-hour drive.
Accommodation
OK, I’m biased, but Escape To The Pyrenees is a gorgeous cycling guesthouse, perfectly located to ride this route and many other famous climbs, and hosted by yours truly.
We offer fully catered stays, either self-guided or on a guided and vehicle-supported tour. A professional chef cooks delicious meals tailored to hungry cyclists, and we also provide homemade ride snacks and custom GPX routes. Go to escapetothepyrenees.com.
Thanks
Thanks to Terry for driving the photo/support car, mucking in with everything and near-telepathic bottle service; Dave for always being up for a challenge, producing prodigious amounts of both sweat and excuses, and being a great mate; and tireless photographer Chris for his good vibes and great shots.
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