For all its extremity, the idea’s strength is in its simplicity. Race a bike from a mountain’s summit to its base. The start at the summit of Pic Blanc sits at 3,300 metres and the finish area in the valley floor at Allemont is considerably lower at 720 metres. Thankfully topography of this magnitude is out of the manipulative bounds of mankind, else who knows what we would have done with it. The result is a course that throws a good mix of everything in there. The idea of racing on soft snow and sprinting road climbs on a full suspension bike shod with tyres that drag as much as Priscilla Queen of the Desert ain’t my idea of the perfect race course. However nature has never been perfect and this mountain certainly wasn’t created with our racing down it in mind, which is key in making it a challenge. The beauty, as ever, is very much in the imperfection. After embracing it, I found I started to like these quirks.

The town of Alpe d’Huez has a nice vibe to it. Some amazing restaurants, the streets come alive with markets and the bars always have a good vibe. I did hear one comment of ‘Megadorm’, the comparison with the coastal Spanish town may be a little wayward, although the sheer number of ‘Brits Abroad’ that fill the bars is accurate. The town’s steeped history with Le Tour de France certainly adds some class. With this event lying the weekend before Le Tour passed through, the twenty-one cornered climb was adorned with the camper vans, flags, deckchairs and tanned beer bellies that preface any Tour visit. The sheer quantity of supporters and their arrival over a week early was still astounding. I wonder how many left their fiercely guarded pitch to stroll up the hill and take a look at our dirty event?

With such a large quantity of riders at our race, first comes the distillation process of qualifying. A shorter course, with a winning time of around twenty–one minutes, tests groups of 200 riders. Starting in a deeply cut vein of wet dirt through the still standing snow, even at this lower height, it provided a unique departure. This wide start continues for a few corners feeling akin to a motocross track. The bar–to–bar action off the line is thrilling. There’s not many times when as a mountain bike rider you feel the force and intimidating harassment of a couple of hundred riders behind you. That’s exactly what I was feeling, for, to my surprise, I was sat in second behind Dan Atherton. After practicing together it looked to be a comfortable chase of my mate. After a brief respite of slick rock, it wasn’t long before the snow took hold again. With so many riders through it all week, the ruts were now deep. So much so that at times it was almost impossible to keep either foot on the pedals. And that’s where I punctured, on a rock hidden at the bottom of one of these snaking lines of awkwardness. Pulling over to the side I sat and watched as rider after rider tackled this treacherous section. It’s quite an experience to see at close quarters, so many people taking on such a challenge. One that I enjoyed being at the sharp–end of, if only for a few brief moments.

It’d be impertinent to not mention the hassle it can all seem at times. Sunday morning (for finals) means an early start to get all the riders to the top of a mountain. An incredible feat, that can be easily overlooked. After all, waiting a short time to get in a magic cabin that does in a moment what would otherwise take an eternity in hiking boots still holds as a marvel for me.

With my qualification scuppered and any real chance of a top result from a front row start gone with it, I elected to be the last person off the grid in the final. Picking a spot dead centre and as far back as possible; to gain the perfect vantage point on what was to be my first personal view of this phenomenon. Making the final an exercise in magnetic voyeurism. For all the sense in me that said to stay back and out of trouble, there was this innate lunacy that could not do anything in the face of the magnetic pull into the mayhem. Nowhere to go but to keep on rolling towards the others that had flung themselves down this too–huge mountain.