Pedaling to the 7th degree: tips for intimidated (or not) cycle climbers

I’m Christelle, an average climber: I flirt with the 7th grade, I’m too versatile to be really strong, I have a full-time job and gear that’s not always optimized. I have a logbook of ascents that includes great routes and some serious injuries too. In 10 years of climbing and 5 years of mountaineering, I’ve come to accept that no matter what, I always come back for the richness of these activities, both in team spirit and in connection to nature, and in the political stance on how we choose to spend our free time. In short, climbing makes me happy!

I’ve only owned a car for 5 years; before that, I was a city dweller without a motor vehicle (plus I benefited from SNCF discounts, so traveling everywhere by train made sense). Then came my thirties, moving to the mountains, and buying a motor vehicle. I admit, at first, it meant total freedom to go wherever I wanted whenever I wanted. Then gradually, with changes in home and work location, the train became my daily commute again and I realized the joy of not having to move my car every day.

Rethinking your commute is one thing, rethinking your leisure trips is another. For years, I’ve avoided flying for environmental reasons, and car and van have been the obvious choices for transport and accommodation under cliffs all over Europe. Then the idea came up: what if we went climbing by bike? bike + train? We started with a lot of train and little bike: crossing North to South Wales by Eurostar and about 400 km of cycling for 10 days of actual climbing. Then came the routes in the southeast quarter of France, in a very Mussatto-focused trip on the limestone walls of the Pre-Alps (Bauges, Chartreuse, Vercors, Verdon) with 8 days of cycling for 10 days of climbing. The only thing left was to test the sport climbing cliffs in that same part of France: Céüse and Saint Léger du Ventoux with a ratio of 1 day climbing per day cycling. 

What does it mean to travel to the cliffs by bike? 

If you are a cyclist, you won’t learn anything new; if you are a climber: pay attention!

• The bike: we tested two approaches: road bike and travel-equipped gravel bike. The latter wins. Depending on your legs (mine are the legs of an occasional climber and skier with the stamina of a goldfish), being able to spin the pedals helps a lot, especially on loaded climbs.

• The panniers: a rear bike pannier holds 25L (times two makes 50L, which is a good travel bag), to which you can easily add a climbing bag (30 to 40L placed on the rack). You really don’t need more. The downside of this system is that on very steep hills, the bike tends to wheelie a bit. But on very steep hills, you’d rather not be there anyway, so it works pretty well (avoid slopes over 10%). The only time a front pannier was needed was when we added a stowaway passenger: the dog, who didn’t carry his kibble, bowl, or water.

• Climbing gear: you have to choose between a double or single rope! Alone, I managed to carry 60m of sport climbing rope and 15 quickdraws. This means choosing your routes carefully and tying a knot at the end of the rope, but it still leaves plenty of options on French cliffs. Along with that, a harness, a grigri, three carabiners (and even my big wall gear that stayed at the bottom of the panniers). I forgot the brush: a big mistake for sport climbing, and the weight gain would have been negligible! Cleaning your holds, removing chalk marks, and leaving the route clean are good practices that made me beg for a brush at every cliff.

• The tent and sleeping gear: a two-person tent weighing about two kilos is easy to find. Volume is rarely an issue, so there’s plenty of choice. Traveling in April, I had a small sleeping bag but regretted not having a big mountain down sleeping bag that would have easily fit in my panniers (instead of my unused hardware). For the mattress, it depends on the level of comfort you want.

• Clothes: an outfit for cycling (the essential investment is a good pair of cycling shorts), an outfit for climbing, and an outfit for sleeping. Add shorts if it’s hot or leggings if it’s cold, three pairs of socks (different shapes and warmth), three pairs of underwear, three sports bras, and a pair of flip-flops or warm slippers depending on the weather.

• Food supplies: no need to shop in advance, we only carried enough food for one day. And a stove, cookware, lighters, sponge.

• To stay clean: a towel and universal soap are enough, but you can add some moisturizer to care for your hands’ skin and, in my case, some hair detangler (to avoid dreadlocks).

• And for safety: a climbing helmet for climbing and riding or a bike helmet for riding and climbing; a first aid kit (see intro for the climber’s injury log to make a good kit), lights, and a lock for two. Oh yes, don’t forget your gloves and sunglasses, whatever the season!

This gives you (without the dog) a load of about 15 kg per bike. Some bike travelers carry 25 kg or more, so you have in your legs what it takes to tackle the Prealps passes and the steep roads and paths leading to the cliffs (a nod to the Ceüse trail, so much more fun to descend than to climb).

How far do you pedal and where do you stop? Everyone has their own answer. In my case, a normal day ranges between 60 and 120 km and doesn’t exceed 1500 m of elevation gain. And that’s with good weather! But from my experience, spending more than 6 hours in the saddle hurts both body and mind, so take breaks and don’t plan overly long stages. It’s also very nice to stop at friends’ places, which avoids setting up a tent and allows an evening thinking about something other than the saddle’s contact with our delicate behind.

Beyond the distance and elevation gain, talk to the locals: they will recommend the best routes based on steepness and car traffic (in the Drôme, for example, prefer the Col de Cabre over the Col de la Croix Haute).

Most of the time, cyclists are very well received; people agree to fill your water bottle at their home if there’s no fountain, they point you to the best bakery, they watch your bikes on the café terrace… This is one of the advantages of this mode of transport: it reconnects you with the places you pass through. You buy local, curse the bakery’s closed days but bless market days, you’re at the PMU with the regulars, and you stay as far away as possible from large shopping areas, thus supporting small businesses.

The only catch: there is no miracle app. Google Maps is reasonable in calculating kilometers but will send you on paths that are not very rideable (hence the preference for gravel bikes, even though they also struggle on some routes); Komoot thinks about bikes and slope degrees but exaggerates elevation changes (in the morning when planning the route, it’s very scary!); Strava calculates the correct distances and elevation but only afterward in the free version, so it just helps to judge other apps. The best is still to follow marked bike routes like the Haut-Buëch loop which delighted us or the Bella Via which more or less connects Annecy, Albertville, and Grenoble. Look for the green and white signs and beware of signs announcing a pass: if there is a bike sign, it means it’s a notable Tour de France-style pass and you will climb steeply, hard, and for a long time with your panniers. By the way, all app speeds are calculated based on the majority of users: that is, road cyclists. For every 5 hours, add at least an hour of cycling plus breaks if you are loaded.

Also remember that if you're struggling with the tent, there are often charming little inns and villages under the French cliffs, and having less gear will take kilos and logistics off your shoulders.

A mistake I made myself is thinking that you cycle when conditions are bad for climbing and climb when conditions are not good for cycling... That's wrong! The wind that tangles the ropes will also stop you from moving forward on your bike; the rain that soaks the routes will make your cycling day miserable; and the heatwave that turns cliffs into an oven will burn the asphalt you pedal on, and you too! In case of a forecasted storm, severe thunderstorm, or other extreme weather event (cold or hot), take shelter in a train, under a canopy, at friends' houses, or simply: somewhere else! A bit of all this is bearable but, for example, a Foehn episode like the one we had this spring can double the travel time over a distance like Albertville-Grenoble. You might say that in that case you'd be better off in your car: know that this type of wind also greatly increases fuel consumption on the same route. You'll have less sore buttocks but a heavier hit to your wallet. 

How much does all this cost? The red bike in the photos is sold fully accessorized as is for 700 euros brand new. You can pay more (disc brakes, clipless pedals…). Mine is third-hand, given by a generous friend because she couldn’t take it with her when moving, and it suits me fine as is. Panniers are expensive new but second-hand, the three on my bike cost me less than 100 euros. Where I splurged was on the cycling shorts, the only technical gear I bought new. I have my bike serviced once a year for about thirty euros and I attached a Decathlon headlamp (15 euros) and a small rechargeable rear light.

All that’s left is to pay for your food, occasional camping, and the train when you hop on it: I estimate that’s about a quarter of what you would have spent by car for the same trip (gas + tolls). In short, it’s a great way to travel when you’re broke and the gear lasts long enough to be well amortized! 

I’m not going to lie to you, climbing after giving your all on your bike for several days requires reactivating the right muscles and your body for two activities that don’t complement each other well. Some highly inspiring top-level athletes manage to combine maximum climbing projects with bike trips (@ Eline le Menestrel). But on my level, while I’ve managed some surprising performances on big routes, it was never the day after the ride. I would actually recommend taking a rest day after a block of cycling days. But we’re all the same, we’re starving when we arrive at the cliff, especially if the weather forecast soon predicts rain, which is perfect for a rest day.

So, allowing yourself rest is beneficial. And also realistically consider what is feasible with the gear you carry. For example, if you have 15 quickdraws at St Léger du Ventoux, keep in mind that you will share the routes with your partner. In our case, that meant focusing on routes we could both do quickly rather than struggling on projects over several days. After that, you can count on the kindness of the climbing community and the regular migration of climbers in spring and autumn: at Ceüse or St Léger, with or without an appointment, you’ll find friends or at least a community that is often generous and lets you climb on quickdraws left hanging in a project (shout out to Jardin Singulier which beautifully embodies this big family).

In conclusion, go for it! I hope this story removes the barriers to trying the adventure and has given you the keys to try climbing while cycling. And if you still have questions, feel free to ask me!

Main image photo credit: Hugo Schleicher