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The Parpaillon saga

Mes déboires au Parpaillon - Francisque Ferlay CC N° 968 Charbonnières - revue n°10, 1982

Although the Parpaillon is one of the passes I have climbed, I have no pleasant memories of it. I can only imagine its scenery through the accounts published here and there by those who, more favoured than me by the weather conditions, were able to admire its grandiose, wild character and other laudatory terms.

My visit dates back to 1929, at the end of a cycle touring trip that I unexpectedly decided to take as part of the Vélocio day with a friend from Lyon who I had found and who was free like me for the week. With no definite goal in mind, we wandered from the Vercors to the Dévoluy, from La Bérarde to the Briançonnais.

On the evening of the stage that preceded the return to Lyon, we found ourselves in the Ubaye valley, towards Jausiers. The proximity of the Parpaillon suggested that we should put the crossing of the pass on the next day's programme, so that we could then catch the last evening train to Embrun and finish in style before returning to our respective occupations.

Alas, the next morning the weather was completely overcast, and it was even raining a little. Only the hotelier was unfailingly optimistic, saying that the skies would soon clear and that we could look forward to a good day. The rain, light at the start, intensified after Sainte Anne and became a downpour with snow mixed in as we progressed. We should have given up but, once we'd embarked on our adventure, it would have been just as painful and time-consuming to go back. So, pushing the bike more often than riding it, under the now ineffective pilgrim's jacket and with our feet in the water, wet, sweaty... and hungry (we only had a light snack), we passed Crévoux in the late afternoon without taking the time to stop at the Auberge Faure, tortured by the worry of our train, without having had any vision other than of the peaks drowned in clouds behind a curtain of rain and of the ground where we were putting our feet. In our carriage, we said to ourselves philosophically that the unforgettable beauty (?) of the Parpaillon would be for another time.

This could have happened to me in 1931, but in a completely different way and there was no question of cycle touring. Summoned as a reservist to the 14th auto train for a period of 21 days, I learned on my arrival at the barracks that the auto company, including reservists, was taking part in the 14th corps' Alpine manoeuvres. Trucks, vans, men and horses were picked up by the P.L.M. and unloaded the next morning at a small station in the Durance valley to take the road to Embrun. It was at this stop that the lieutenant of the group to which I belonged asked me to take the wheel of a van and take a dozen reservists up .... to the Parpaillon pass, which he thought he should show me on his map.

Rather taken aback by this bizarre order, I asked him if he was serious because, as far as I knew and having been there, the path to the pass was only accessible to Alpine hunters' mules, so I didn't think that a van or even an ordinary car could go very far beyond Crévoux.

It was, however, the pass that was provided for in the instructions he had. I could only tell him that I didn't feel capable of such a mission, as I wasn't used to driving a van over such terrain, and I didn't want to risk a serious accident for my comrades... and myself. He was also a reservist officer and, understanding, he didn't insist: «OK, I'll find another driver and as far as you're concerned, you'll be in charge of traffic on the Vars pass with a few other reservists that I'll designate, during and until the end of the manoeuvres. As I don't have a vehicle available, from Guillestre, where the van will take you, you'll walk up to Ste Marie de Vars, where you'll stay in a barn that will be designated. Supplies will be brought up to you every day.

And that's how, having turned down the attempt to do the Parpaillon in a van, I had the privilege, with 5 or 6 companions, of a mountain holiday which, although it didn't have the comforts of a 2 or 3 star hotel, gave us a few days of good times, without drudgery or military marches, as the duties of our road regulation commission at the Vars pass were not very demanding and limited to the passage of a few military convoys. In those days, jeeps, half-tracks and other off-road vehicles were unknown. At the end of the manoeuvres, I learnt that no vans or cars had gone up.

Several years passed without a new approach to the Parpaillon. My cycling holidays were spent elsewhere than in the Alps: the Tyrol, the Dolomites, Switzerland, Corsica, the Pyrenees, Spain, etc. Then came the years 39/45, not very favourable for venturing onto a strategic route. Other years, other trips and it wasn't until 1970, during the Semaine Fédérale in Gap, which included the Parpaillon hike, that I was able to think about settling my old score with him. Although there was no question of embarking on this ordeal, which I felt was too tough for me, I was thinking of using the car to make the approach to Savines or Embrun easier and, once I'd made the crossing, meeting up at La Condamine or Jausiers with the car of a friend who was accompanying me or, failing that, hiring a taxi or other vehicle in Barcelonnette to take my car back to its parking place.

The man offered... but my plan was not to come to fruition. On Monday 3 August, I was riding up to Giobernay in the Valgaudemar with a few friends when a heart attack stopped me at Rif du Sap. I'd already been forced to put my bike down a few weeks earlier during the Vélocio day, and the day before, on the 2nd, I'd experienced some unusual difficulties on the Col de la Sentinelle. I should have been worried about those first warnings.

Anyway... I escaped a serious accident, but cycling was strictly forbidden for several months and then authorised, but with such reservations that now, having reached eleven times the age of reason, I also have reason to think that I won't be doing the Parpaillon again...
Francisque FERLAY
Member of CT Lyon since 1925 (57 years with the same club).