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The Parpaillon saga

Mon Parpaillon (altitude 2640 m) - Michel Ménard CC n° 2035 - review n° 45, 2017

August 1993 from Embrun, I've just completed a difficult circuit over three passes, two of them over 2000 m, Chérine and Valbelle, on a racing bike, before descending to the resort of Risoul. What a nightmare, what madness, but who isn't a bit «mad» in this cycling world?

Before I left for work, I took one last look at the surrounding peaks and my thoughts drifted off into the clouds. Le Parpaillon, there it is, that famous, mythical mule pass, and I'm standing at the foot of it. One day, I said to myself, you'll be able to put your stamp on it and sign the visitors' book, bearing witness to your passage. I didn't think about it any time soon, because a year later the dream came true... in part. August 1994, I'm on holiday, in the same region, for ten days or so with three objectives, the main one of which you can imagine.

La route de la Lavande« is a permanent trail created by Daniel Guérin, a friendly local boy who died too soon at the age of 58 after a long illness*. From Castellane it's a star circuit, a beautiful hike with many passes. My main highlights were the ride around the grand canyon of the Gorges du Verdon via the corniche, a magnificent spot, and my visit to Moustiers-Sainte-Marie, listed as one of the 157 most beautiful villages in France; then a diversion to the north of Castellane, near the Lac de Castillon, after a good climb, to take a closer look at the Mandarom sect, home to many »enlightened« believers in eternal life...

The Col de la Glacière operation, at an altitude of 1,069 m, in the Var region of France, will send shivers down your spine. It's a very special pass because it's in the heart of a military field where live-fire training often takes place. Had I really gone mad for wanting to tempt the Devil? Perhaps, but why shouldn't I have managed to pass it when I'd read so many accounts in the Club des Cent Cols magazine (No. 8 / 13 / 16 / 21 / 23) of cyclists who had done so? It was a success, otherwise I wouldn't be here to brag about it, would I, but God, it made me sweat. During my passage, my crossing in dead silence, I even had the small pleasure of meeting a doe.

At last my Parpaillon. I knew it «mentally» down to the last detail, having studied it by leafing through the Fédérale magazine and especially those of the CCC**. It was by drawing inspiration from these accounts that I was going to tackle it in the best possible conditions, but that was without taking into account the hazards that, all things considered, add spice to all adventures. My goal: to link the Durance valley to the Ubaye valley and back, picking up two more passes over 2000 m in the process: la Pare and Girabeau; all in the space of a single day, which is quite a challenge.

The weather in the previous days had been superb, but this time it was deteriorating and thunderstorms were threatening. There was no way I was going to put this off; I had to go back home the day after tomorrow. I stayed with my partner Odile. Knowing that the first eighteen kilometres are on a small, fairly tarmac road, I had planned to cover them with my racing bike and continue to the finish with a hired mountain bike; so the following operation took place, with Odile with the mountain bike in the vehicle waiting for me at La Chalp so that I could then change bikes.

I set off from the town centre in the direction of Saint-André where, curiously, you have to start by descending to Pont-Neuf, altitude 800 m, to cross the Durance and really begin the climb. The sky was slightly overcast, with the sun making a timid appearance from time to time, but there didn't seem to be any immediate cause for concern. I felt good and happy as I climbed, comfortable in my 42 x 25.

After a few kilometres, I spotted a couple of cyclists in the distance, whom I caught up with fairly quickly and struck up a conversation. They told me they were coming to the end of their holiday after cycling in various places and, like me, wanted to finish with the Col du Parpaillon. They only had a vague knowledge of the latter, even though they seemed to be experienced cyclists. I climbed with the gentleman (who pedalled well) as far as the junction: La Chalp on the left, Crévoux on the right, where he waited for his wife a little further back. In the meantime, I'd put the chain on the 28-tooth bike at the back because, admittedly, the gradient was fairly regular but severe. It was at this junction that I left my companion, whom I would never see again. I turned left and, after crossing the little hamlet, met up with Odile again and, while telling her how worried I was about the next stage of my adventure, as the sky was becoming more and more worrying, I changed bikes for the ten kilometres of mule-riding.

I'd only done a couple of kilometres and then the rain started to fall, very light at first, then heavier. A quick stop to put on my Gore-Tex. I continued on my way. This time I can't escape it, it's a thunderstorm; lightning streaks the sky and it's thundering, I'm not at peace and if I let myself go I'd turn back immediately, but that would be too stupid after so much hope and having come so far. The hailstones after the rain are increasingly worrying. The summits look wild; one might fear the «man with the hammer» once depicted in cartoonish and humorous drawings by Pellos. I see the Écuelles hut, I'm saved.

Surprise! A couple of English hikers and tourists were already there and, while putting on dry clothes, as I was soaking wet despite the K-way, I managed to catch a few words. They had left Crévoux very early on foot, climbed to the summit and then descended, only to be caught by this storm just as they passed the hut. Lucky for them, they left without any precautions, spare clothes, K-way, etc. What stupidity! After more than an hour's halt, the storm had passed and the very light rain continued to fall, so we decided to go our separate ways.

A few hundred metres from the hut, on the right for a short diversions, a muddy path led me to the Col de Girabeau, 2488 m. I had to push the mountain bike more than pedal. At last, the majestic Parpaillon came into view, but it was a sad sight in its foggy cloak. At the entrance to the tunnel I looked for a tube of aspirin*** without success and, as it kept raining, I didn't linger.

Without lighting, I managed this feat... by moving forward cautiously, balancing myself, and crossing the tunnel, some 500 to 600 m long, without setting foot on the ground, in almost total darkness, with only a tiny glimmer of light in the distance as a reference point; all this on a broken, muddy, rutted path; and the same for the way back.

With a desolate panorama and no better weather on the other side, it was with bitterness and disappointment that I decided to abandon my initial plan to link the two valleys and climb the Col de la Pare (2655m). The return journey and the descent to La Chalp were almost a formality, apart from one minor fall due to the many gullies along the way.

Odile was waiting for me patiently, warmly and with a smile on her face. The sun was shining, but in reality the storm hadn't passed through and she didn't know that it hadn't done the same for me. In Crévoux, I wanted to put my name in the visitors' book to justify my visit, but to my further disappointment, the inn was closed****.

One final note of note: with a racing bike and good tyres with the right cross-section, and with care, in dry weather I might add, it would be quite possible to climb it to the summit; but despite everything, if the tarmac doesn't come through there, the Parpaillon will always remain the Parpaillon.

* Reprise par Gérard dont j’ai eu plaisir de faire la connaissance en 2002 dans les Dolomites. Contact: gerard.fillion-robin@orange.fr.
** CCC magazines No 8 / 11 / 13 / 15 / 16 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 42. - Revues FFCT de décembre 1994 et 2012 - Revue Le Cycle d'octobre 2011.
*** A cyclist had left a message in a tube of aspirin, asking that it be put back after reading. It should be stuck in a joint under a plate on the left-hand side. See CCC magazine N°21 page 51.
**** Back home, I sent a postcard to the Auberge de la Ratelle to let them know I'd been there. On the visitors' book, a small space was to be left for my signature one day... soon.