Riding Europe’s Highest Road by Ed Tarwinski

If there were no lifts and skiers had to actually clamber up the mountains before enjoying hurtling down it is safe to say it would not be a particularly popular sport. Cyclists are a little more masochistic and have a strange compulsion to seek out the hardest, steepest and longest climbs they can find. The rewards in this case are an immense feeling of accomplishment, wonderful views and the thrill of experiencing the longest descent in Europe, altogether worth the pain and suffering involved. Thus I found myself tackling Europe’s longest and highest road ascent during the snow-free summer at Sierra Nevada.

Base camp was just outside Granada, altitude 690 metres. The goal was the summit of Pico Veleta at 3,396 metres (11,138 feet), taking the longer and more difficult, 40 km “scenic” route, avoiding the wide, fast ski access road. That would be reserved for the mouth-watering descent. The plan was that there would be no sit-down rest periods, just occasional brief halts to take photos and to put on an extra layer as the air became colder higher up.

It was a sunny 30 degrees in September setting off towards Pinos Genil and the gentle upward slopes provided a relatively easy warm-up period before the serious stuff began. Set-off time had been planned for before noon, but this had to be revised after deciding to sample the delights of the western-themed hot nightspot in Granada the night before, so it was almost 1.30pm before I was fuelled-up and on the road. Signs after the extremely picturesque village of Güéjar-Sierra warned of a narrow, dangerous mountain road with a, and-we’re-not-joking, 20km speed limit. It was officially closed to motor traffic; however the hardy locals living along the route evidently considered themselves exempt.

A long, hard winding section of steep climbing followed; thankfully a good chunk of it was under the shade of thick tree cover as the sun was burning down on a still afternoon. Eventually the road emerged from the leafy valley to join the “main” but secondary route to the summit through an area designated a Parque Natural. Here the road climbed high above the main ski access road and it was becoming noticeably chillier, so the first stop to don extra bits of cycling clothing was necessary. This was also a chance to top-up the fuel tank with a flapjack washed down with some “home-brew” economy isotonic drink – one part orange juice to two or three parts water and a generous pinch of salt.

The first “milestone” altitude sign showing 2,000m came into view just before the first glimpse of the Pico Veleta summit. That sounded impressive, already higher than many Alpine passes but the harsh reality was that I was only halfway through the 2,700m of altitude gain required that day. The gradient was unforgiving and relentless, there was barely a section where changing out of bottom gear was possible, so it was just a case of grinding away at a level of effort calculated to prevent “blowing-up” before reaching the summit.

Onward and upward, looking down onto the high altitude sports training facility and the rather grey main ski area, not looking quite as glamorous and attractive without its gleaming white winter clothes.

At 2,600m altitude, just past the popular sledging area, there is a barrier preventing motor vehicles going any further, but it is a simple matter for cyclists to dismount and duck under it. Here I spotted an odd-looking camouflaged car, believed to be a Citroen, heavily disguised and presumably undergoing high-altitude testing. It was the second test car I’d seen, the other was a large white Audi, without any make-up, doing fast and furious runs up and down the mountain road.

And this is where the fun began. The road surface became rough, bumpy, pot-holed and scarred with scrapes from snow-ploughs. The wind became ever stronger and colder. The gradient increased. My energy reserves were dwindling – I had hoped to find at least one café along this route open for a quick re-fuel but I was disappointed; it was clearly out of season. So I had to dig deep and make sure the two flapjacks and two “bidons” (plastic bottles used by cyclists) I’d had since my rather late breakfast, would be enough. Yes, there is always body fat to burn when the readily-available blood sugar fuel runs out but that is a very inefficient process that leads to the dreaded feeling of “having the knock”, as we bike riders say. It’s almost impossible to ride up a steep climb using this secondary source of energy, so it was going to be tight.

As the road lurched toward the peak, the cold, wind and severity of the climb combined with low blood sugar levels, tiredness and not least of all the thin air (approx 70% of sea level oxygen), all came together to make it a very tough final challenge. The road surface became steadily worse and it was just a barren, rocky path for the final few hundred metres. I was struggling to keep my road bike with its skinny tyres under control and I knew if I stopped it would be almost impossible to get going again.

With just a final gasp to the summit, I lost traction and had to put a foot down on the moon-like terrain. With hands numb from the 6 degree, but what felt like below freezing, temperature, being barely able to stand in the violent gusts and my dedicated cycling shoes not suited at all to clambering up the final rocky trail, I decided, with the light beginning to fade, to forgo a victory pose at the actual summit and turned around for the descent. A few metres short but the goal had been achieved – yee haw!

The fun part of the long road down unfortunately had to wait as descending the poorly-surfaced track was hard work, especially with hands almost too cold to work the brakes properly. I couldn’t wait to get back to the better and warmer conditions lower down.

A foot-long sandwich, Coke, coffee and cake at the ski resort quickly put some life back into my depleted body, and it was time for the fun to begin. From being in bottom gear for over four hours it was now time to engage top – bring it on! Luckily the traffic was light so I didn’t need to overtake many cars on the sweeping main road bends and it was a beautiful sensation to descend into progressively warmer layers of denser, more life-sustaining air. From 6 degrees to 27 back in the valley, it was time to sit down at a bus shelter and remove all the extra layers for the final, leisurely flat ride along to the car.

This isn’t an adventure that can be tackled lightly or alone by inexperienced cyclists who are anything other than extremely fit, however targeting a section of the route described here would be a great way to experience this beautiful area by bike for those less fit or keen.

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