Col du Galibier

Col du Galibier

Valloire

·

France

The Roof of the Tour

The ascent

The Galibier is the high point of the Tour de France's imagination more often than of its route. Henri Desgrange, who founded the race, has his memorial set into the rock a few hundred metres below the summit; the race first crossed here in 1911 and has used the pass more than sixty times since.

From Valloire the road climbs 1,210 metres over seventeen and a half kilometres. The first four are deceptively gentle — two of them under three per cent — running up a broad pastoral valley. At Plan Lachat, roughly eleven kilometres in, the road crosses the stream, turns hard left and starts climbing the wall of the cirque, and from there to the summit at 2,642 metres it does not drop below seven per cent again. Two kilometres touch 9.5.

What makes the Galibier different from a climb of the same length lower down is the altitude at which the hard part happens. The last six kilometres are ridden above 2,200 metres, where power falls away and the difference between a frame that flexes and a frame that does not becomes something the rider can feel.

18
Kilometres
1210
Metres gained
7
Average %
10
Maximum %
2642
Summit m
Gradient profile
Hover the profile
6.6,6.0,2.6,2.4,6.5,7.6,7.1,8.1,5.8,6.0,8.2,8.7,9.5,7.2,7.9,7.4,9.5,8.7
1431
18
2642
Under 4%
4–6%
6–8%
8–10%
10–12%
12% and over
Where it is
Summit
45.0642,6.4079
Credits

Photography

Michael Blann

Rider

Liam Yates

Aequus
The bike on this climb

Aequus

Every SWI is laid up for one rider — their weight, their power, the way they actually ride. One uninterrupted carbon shell, formed in a single mould, built for a body rather than a size chart. It is the whole reason the same mountain feels different underneath two frames.

The photography

Mountains: Epic Cycling Climbs

Michael Blann

For the people who live beneath them the great European ranges are simply a way of life. For everyone else they are scenery. For a cyclist they are none of those things — they are an appointment with your own limits, and the reason a road that goes nowhere useful is worth riding at all.

Michael Blann has spent years photographing the climbs that made the sport: the Alps, the Dolomites, the Pyrenees, the Ardennes. The pictures are landscape photography of a very high order, but the book is really about what those places do to the people who ride them — an argument built from light, weather and altitude, with recollections from professional riders threaded through it.

If you have ever ridden one of these roads, or intend to, it is the closest thing to being back on it.

Find the book