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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.

At the start, a picturesque hamlet, the road is still tarmac for almost 2 km, then a small bridge where a sign indicates a dangerous road. This is rocky country! The road winds its way through a forest of pines and larches, with a gradient that steepens considerably, forcing us at times to walk on foot.

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!

That's it! It's here! came the cry from André, who was up ahead, hidden by the last bend in the road. What joy! It's true, the tunnel is there, behind the firn that guards it, holding out its arms to us, its doors wide open. Imitating Georges Gaillot in 1928, I scribble a short message, insert it in a tube of aspirin and wedge it in a joint under the plate on the left-hand side. This summer, I received a phone call from a film-maker who was making a film about the Parpaillon, and who had found and read the message. He told me he'd put it back in the same place. Cycling friends passing by, take a look and give me a call!

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.

After this short thrill, we continued our hike, over the Vars (2108 m), Chérine (2270 m) and Valbelle (2381 m) passes and the beautiful Saluces forest, which, via the Coche pass (1791 m) takes us to Crévoux via Saint-André. Back to the hotel, back to the shower, back to dinner and, above all, back to bed! Our efforts were rewarded with some unforgettable images. The next day, we signed the visitors' book at the 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.