Our Classic Rides section features cycling's absolute climbing classics. Meanwhile, we have already seen a number of great classics pass the review, including. Mont Ventoux, Sella Ronda and Sa Calobra. This time Erwin and Erwin (aka V. and R.), our guest bloggers from the Mountain High Chasers take you to the dreaded but also magnificent Alto de l'Angliru. This climb in the north-east of Spain, in the region of Asturias is the Spanish answer to the Stelvio and the Mortirolo. Many a rider will start this challenge with wobbly knees. Not for nothing has it been a real sharper in the Vuelta. We think this is an insane climb. Truly a Classic Ride: Alto de L'Angliru
(cover photo: (c) Astur Cycling // www.asturcycling.com)
Text and photos: Mountain High Chasers/ Erwin Visser
The Mountain
'What's the point of riding up a mountain when you are faster by foot'. A great quote to start with when revisiting the book 'Mountain High' at the breakfast table in the morning. Today is the day, a mountain I haven't particularly looked forward to. The phrase looking up to something like a mountain must have come from here, there's no way around it. The Angliru is rightly a mountain to look up to. By now a legendary climb from several editions of the Vuelta, but for many the reason not to start the Vuelta when the Angliru is on the programme. So why are we going to climb it? Because it is one of 'our' mountains, why else? So that means that, for the Angliru, 'our' rules apply before we can put a sticker on it: not getting off is the most important one.
Warmer
Before starting a climb like this, you want to make sure you are warm. A run-up of over 70 kilometres with almost 1,500 altimeters seemed sufficient to us. What a joy it is to ride through this landscape. It feels a bit more lovely than the Alps and Pyrenees, but the gradients are all the higher. You ride, so to speak, through an optical illusion of winding roads, pine trees and friendly mountain peaks. Today, Erwin (R.) and I are riding together with Robert and Jetze.
Ready
The Garmins beep, in 170m turn left up the Barrio Puenta Alta. Even before we start the climb, we decide to make extra mental preparations over a cup of coffee and two cokes. The shoes click smoothly into the pedals and we do now turn onto the Barrio Puenta Alta. I ask Robert again what his first experience in the mountains is like. He replies how fantastic he finds it here and in my mind the gradients that will roll right under our wheels shoot through my head. Maybe he is just at an advantage, he has no idea what to expect.
A monster!
From here, the road starts going uphill. Dark clouds are piling up in the distance, exactly where we need to go. Now I have concerns not only about whether we will get to the top at all, but also whether I have the right clothes with me. The legs are spinning nicely and together we can maintain a good pace. It is a friendly road. Every now and then we come across a cottage and a head-shaking Spaniard staring at us with a grin. The sun from earlier in the day has completely disappeared. The sky takes on other colours, especially in the grey spectrum.
Sensible
Robert is wise and lets us (Jetze, R. and myself) drive. I am reminded of him when the three of us hit the flat section. This monster climb dares a wink of over a kilometre of fall flat after about three kilometres. I'm glad I'm still in R.'s wheel because Jetze is pushing pretty hard here. With shades of grey in the sky, the wind has also come up and I wouldn't like to be alone right now. The speed decreases and the percentages increase, at which point I decide to let R. and Jetze go. This mountain has scared me enough on paper not to play a game of bluff poker here.
Painful encounter
The moment I leave the gap I meet the 'real' Angliru for the first time. A winding road in which there are a number of sharp turns in quick succession with the first serious percentages. 17% and judging by the raking of the two men a few metres in front of me, I'm not off yet. I immediately set the gear to coffee grinder mode, but even the coffee grinder is now running like a Senseo, a lot of noise, but a paltry result.
In this case, I roll along the tarmac at just under five kilometres per hour. Meanwhile, I have lost sight of R. and Jetze. Not because the gap has grown so much bigger now, because I can still hear them steaming. But because of the incredibly dense fog we have ended up in. From nowhere we ride into no-man's land, a land the man has to get through together with his bicycle.
And he's gone
After a few minutes, the sound ahead of me has also disappeared and all I hear is the rattling of my own chain. Drops fall from my helmet onto the handlebars. The fog sticks to aching legs. The percentages have become kinder again but rarely do I see less than 12% on my screen. For a moment I hesitate, would I have already had the infamous stretch, because surely steeper than the previous kilometre can't be?
The answer doesn't take long, through the fog I see a big sign with the details of the next kilometre. The first and also the only thing I read is; max 23%. Here we go. The stripes on the road tell me I am riding in the middle as the fog only seems to get thicker. I ride from stripe to stripe and thoughts run deep. The promised 20% has begun and my cadence is literally 0. With every stroke, my crank comes to a stop for a moment before I can make the next stroke. I try to distract myself from the pain and especially from the thoughts that I am not going to make it.
Stepping down is not an option
The pull of the tarmac was never so strong for the yellow plate under my shoe. And at that moment, out of nowhere, a shadow looms out of the fog. The shadow takes the shapes of a cyclist holding his bike. And even before I realise someone is standing there, I hear Jetze's Drenthe accent shouting at me: "Nice man! Come on!!!" I am somewhat surprised that Jetze has his footing in this form, but at that moment he gives me exactly the push I need. Instead of giving up, I increase the cadence and roll over the last few metres above the 20%.
Made in heaven
The percentages are taking back to 'normal' and the pressure can be somewhat off the legs. Still, it keeps fluctuating around 14%, so to what extent the pressure is off the legs I don't know, but it feels great. According to the stats, the end should be in sight, but for now I can't see a hand in front of my eyes. Until, out of nowhere, a clear blue sky presents itself and the sun kindly welcomes me. Suddenly I am riding in amazing scenery with high peaks, bare rocks and grazing cows. This, combined with a flattening road, puts me in standing position on the pedals and I even shift to the outer leaf. The pain is out of the legs for a while and I really enjoy this climb for the first time. In the last bend I meet R. who came around the corner out of curiosity (after crossing the finish line). Somewhat surprised, he shouts something at me and quickly turns after me.
Arriving at the redeeming sign that says I am there, the yellow plates are finally allowed to hit the tarmac. Never before has a climb hurt so much and never before has a climb made me hesitate so much. Make sure you know what you're getting into if you're going to climb this giant. Let the statistics sink in and consider whether you still feel like getting on then. But once you get to the top, it's all worth it!
As soon as we have shared our first experiences, a puzzled farmer approaches us. In Spanish, he lets us know that he thinks with her crazy, those cyclists here, but at the same time respects the achievement. And so it is, you have to be a little crazy, but how cool it is to stand on a new summit again!
Want to know more about cycling in Asturias and the Angliru? Then take a look at the page of Turismo Asturias
