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The Parpaillon saga

Bathing in the Parpaillon tunnel - Henri Gravezat CC n° 3414 Villeneuve-lès-Avignon (Gard) - magazine n° 21, 1993

On 8 July 1991, we drove to Crévoux with friends André Sorbière and François Grandclaudon. On the menu: 4 summits over 2000 m, with the Parpaillon at 2632 m as an appetiser.

This legendary pass had been on my mind for a long time. The «D» day has arrived, the weather is fine and we're finally going to set off to meet this colossus, which awaits us some 13 km down the road.

Au départ, un hameau pittoresque, la route est encore goudronnée sur près de 2 km, puis un petit pont où un panneau signale la route dangereuse. C’est le domaine de la caillasse ! La route serpente, au travers de la forêt de pins et de mélèzes, avec une dénivellation qui s’accentue sérieusement, et nous oblige par instants à marcher à pied.

It's hard, very hard, but the views from all sides are superb. We climb gently, the forest clearing, giving way to beautiful pastures where marmots hide and whistle.

We reach the refuge at 2400m. Some riders are having a bite to eat and we quickly follow in their footsteps, sheltered by a large rock near the torrent. The wind howls, we ride over snow and it's cold. Further up, we pass a group of tourists descending on foot. The road is very bad and we have to avoid large boulders. When we look up, we see the Parpaillon mountain range, which seems to be taunting us.
It's true, we're so small in front of these huge white-headed boulders, it's breathtaking!

Ça y est ! Il est là-à-à ! C’est le cri d’André, qui est devant, caché par la dernière courbe de la route. Quelle joie ! C’est vrai, le tunnel est là, derrière le névé qui le garde, il nous tend les bras, les portes grandes ouvertes. Imitant Georges Gaillot en 1928, je griffonne un court message, je l’introduis dans un tube d’aspirine que je coince dans un joint sous la plaque côté gauche. J’aurai cette année, dans l’été, un coup de fil d’un cinéaste qui réalisait un film sur le Parpaillon, qui avait trouvé et lu le message. Il m’a dit l’avoir remis à la même place. Ami cyclo qui passe par là, jette un œil et appelle-moi !

Crossing the névé, we enter the darkness. It's awe-inspiring. We roll through the water towards a small white glow, which is our «end of the tunnel». The lighting, despite the help of the torch, was inadequate. We avoid a large stalagmite that is higher than us. Bats fly past us. Not very reassuring. What's more, it's freezing. We moved forward cautiously. Suddenly, without warning, my bike flies off the two wheels on the right-hand side and disappears into the water. As for me, it's the icy ground sheet that gives me a friendly welcome. Without too much trouble, I was able to quickly collect my equipment and get out of the rink. It wasn't planned, but that's how my bike and I took an ice bath in the dark Parpaillon tunnel at an altitude of 2,632m.

Après cette courte émotion, nous avons poursuivi notre randonnée, avec les cols de Vars, (2108 m), Chérine (2270 m), Valbelle (2381 m) et la belle forêt de Saluces, qui, par le col de la Coche (1791 m) nous conduit par Saint-André à Crévoux. Nous retrouvons l’hôtel, la douche, le dîner et surtout le lit ! Récompensés de nos efforts par des images inoubliables. Le lendemain, nous signons le livre d’or à l’auberge de La Ratelle.
And so, thanks to the recent «chauvocolmania» virus, I've made a new friend: «le Parpaillon».
Many thanks to all your team.