Day 4: Albertville → Valloire

Morning in Albertville found me both eager and anxious. This stage marked the gateway to the high Alps. My goal was Valloire, a village perched partway up the colossal Col du Galibier. Getting there, however, required scaling the Col du Télégraphe first. As I left Albertville, the road led into the narrowing Maurienne Valley. Steep mountainsides loomed overhead, and the Arc River rushed alongside the road. The approach was a gradual ascent through a string of mountain towns – St. Jean-de-Maurienne, then St. Michel-de-Maurienne – each with bakeries tempting me to carb-load. I obliged in St. Michel, fueling up and gazing ahead at the challenge to come: the Col du Télégraphe, which would take me up to Valloire.

Shortly after St. Michel-de-Maurienne, the road pitched upward into a series of switchbacks. The Col du Télégraphe is a climb of 11.8 km, gaining 856 m in height at an average 7.3% grade. It’s often overshadowed by its bigger sibling Galibier, but today I gained a new respect for Télégraphe’s relentless gradients. I settled into a low gear and a steady rhythm, mindful of conserving energy. Tall pine forests provided shade, and occasional clearings offered views back down the valley – the ribbon of road I’d climbed and the Maurienne far below. Each kilometer was marked by a cycling milestone indicating the remaining distance and current elevation, a typically French touch that at once motivated and taunted me. Near the top, the gradient stiffened to nearly 10%, and my legs burned with each pedal stroke.

Finally, I crested Col du Télégraphe at 1,566 m, greeted by a small stone fort and panoramic alpine views. I paused to catch my breath and snap a mental picture: wildflowers along the roadside, blue sky, and the rugged silhouettes of peaks in every direction. A swift descent of a few kilometers brought me down to Valloire (1,430 m), my destination. Valloire is a charming alpine village stretched along a valley, bustling in summer with cyclists and hikers. I arrived by mid-afternoon, which left time to wander its streets and soak in the atmosphere. The scent of woodsmoke and sounds of cowbells filled the air. Over dinner – a hearty Savoyard fondue – I chatted with fellow cyclists who spoke in excited tones about tomorrow’s giant, the Galibier. In my cozy hotel that night, I felt a mix of apprehension and exhilaration. Télégraphe was merely the warm-up; the real climbing test of this bikepacking French Alps trip awaited with the sunrise.