Riding the high roads of Sichuan with Haute Route
October 31, 2019
My passion for cycling has facilitated trips to parts of the world I might never have managed to get to otherwise. My only visits to Mongolia, Oman, Taiwan, the Philippines, Qatar, Denmark and Sri Lanka were to take part in and/or report on cycling races, and I’ve ridden in another 20 countries over the past 10 years. While I had travelled to China before back in the late 1990s, I had never cycled in that vast country until the Haute Route Qingcheng stage race took me there last week. The destination was the city of Dujiangyan in Sichaun province, which sits at the foot of a range of mountains that lead up to the mighty Qinhai-Tibet plateau.
Haute Route had been on my radar ever since it debuted with a trip down the French Alps in 2011, but I didn’t finally get to experience what all the fuss was about for myself until this year when I took part in Haute Route Oman (click on this link to read our Oman race report). That three-day event in March left me wanting more and so when the Haute Route Qingcheng dates of October 25-27 were announced they were firmly penned into my calendar.
From my base in Singapore the flight to Chengdu took only four hours and had the bonus of being on the same time zone, meaning neither airplane legs or jetlag would be an issue. I arrived on the night of October 23 with the plan being to go for a gentle spin around the city and the foothills on the day before the race started. A heavy, day-long rain and a temperature hovering around 10 degrees Celsius put paid to that plan and the dark clouds from which the precipitation fell also kept the mountains shrouded in a foreboding cloak. Unfortunately the short-term forecast was for more of the same.
My passion for cycling has facilitated trips to parts of the world I might never have managed to get to otherwise. My only visits to Mongolia, Oman, Taiwan, the Philippines, Qatar, Denmark and Sri Lanka were to take part in and/or report on cycling races, and I’ve ridden in another 20 countries over the past 10 years. While I had travelled to China before back in the late 1990s, I had never cycled in that vast country until the Haute Route Qingcheng stage race took me there last week. The destination was the city of Dujiangyan in Sichaun province, which sits at the foot of a range of mountains that lead up to the mighty Qinhai-Tibet plateau.
Haute Route had been on my radar ever since it debuted with a trip down the French Alps in 2011, but I didn’t finally get to experience what all the fuss was about for myself until this year when I took part in Haute Route Oman (click on this link to read our Oman race report). That three-day event in March left me wanting more and so when the Haute Route Qingcheng dates of October 25-27 were announced they were firmly penned into my calendar.
From my base in Singapore the flight to Chengdu took only four hours and had the bonus of being on the same time zone, meaning neither airplane legs or jetlag would be an issue. I arrived on the night of October 23 with the plan being to go for a gentle spin around the city and the foothills on the day before the race started. A heavy, day-long rain and a temperature hovering around 10 degrees Celsius put paid to that plan and the dark clouds from which the precipitation fell also kept the mountains shrouded in a foreboding cloak. Unfortunately the short-term forecast was for more of the same.
So for most of the day I just hung around the host hotel – the large, spacious and fairly luxurious Minjiang Xinhao – soaking up the vibes, meeting some of my fellow competitors and eating. I was excited to taste real Sichuan food and I wasn’t disappointed, especially by the myriad of dishes that expertly blend the local chili and pepper varieties to leave the mouth tingling but not viciously burning. It wasn’t all about the spices, though, even the simple stir-fried vegetables, noodle soup dishes and steamed buns seemed to be on a different taste level than I’d experienced before from Chinese food.
But I was here to ride my bike not sit indoors feasting and so after hours of fruitlessly checking the weather forecast on every app and website I could find in the hope of a sudden change in conditions, I accepted the inevitable and prepared my kit for the worst. The weather wasn’t a complete surprise so I had at least come prepared with a choice of rain jackets, arm warmers, base layers, three-quarter-length winter bibs, beanies, waterproof shoe covers and full-fingered gloves. They more or less did their job.
But I was here to ride my bike not sit indoors feasting and so after hours of fruitlessly checking the weather forecast on every app and website I could find in the hope of a sudden change in conditions, I accepted the inevitable and prepared my kit for the worst. The weather wasn’t a complete surprise so I had at least come prepared with a choice of rain jackets, arm warmers, base layers, three-quarter-length winter bibs, beanies, waterproof shoe covers and full-fingered gloves. They more or less did their job.
My weapon of choice was my S-Works Tarmac SL6 equipped with Roval CLX32 wheels. (Of note was the fact that it seemed like half the field were riding also Tarmacs, a testament to how good the bike is and/or the marketing job Specialized is doing in China.) Considering I knew for a fact I was going to be facing wet mountain roads, I had thought about taking my disc-braked Venge instead, but the Venge has Shimano Di2 shifting and I’ve had too many issues with that electronic system over the years while travelling, so the Tarmac with its “old school” rim brakes it was. That choice was of course, not really a risk. I’ve been riding a Tarmac for seven years now and it’s a true mountain thoroughbred, both going up and down. The Roval carbon wheels really have come on leaps and bounds in those seven years, and so I had no fears about them not performing under the testing conditions that lay ahead.
And the braking was indeed flawless, although the completely closed roads of Haute Route Qingcheng certainly helped too. Having somehow survived a high-speed collision with a vehicle while descending a mountain 10 years ago with only a few broken bones, I’ve no desire to repeat the experience. While most of the amateur bike races I’ve taken part in over the years have a decent system of marshalling in place, we’re still usually exposed to cars, lorries and buses overtaking or speeding towards us from the opposite direction, and so I tend to sit at the back of groups on technical descents. This is safer but it carries a greater risk of getting dropped. However, the closed roads of Haute Route Qingcheng allowed me a freedom to carve into the corners and sit right in with the leaders. It was a truly liberating experience.
And the braking was indeed flawless, although the completely closed roads of Haute Route Qingcheng certainly helped too. Having somehow survived a high-speed collision with a vehicle while descending a mountain 10 years ago with only a few broken bones, I’ve no desire to repeat the experience. While most of the amateur bike races I’ve taken part in over the years have a decent system of marshalling in place, we’re still usually exposed to cars, lorries and buses overtaking or speeding towards us from the opposite direction, and so I tend to sit at the back of groups on technical descents. This is safer but it carries a greater risk of getting dropped. However, the closed roads of Haute Route Qingcheng allowed me a freedom to carve into the corners and sit right in with the leaders. It was a truly liberating experience.
Stage 1
Of course first you have to climb well enough to be with the leaders before you can bomb down the descents in their company. And I nearly missed the train right at the start of the Stage 1, which was an 82km test that included 1,600 metres of climbing. The opening few kilometres were neutralised and from my position midway in the starting pen I thought I had plenty of time to make my way to the front, especially as the first hill on the road book profile at the 3km mark looked like a tiddler. It might have been fairly short at 1.5km in length, but it was steep enough to form an instant selection and I had to dig really deep to just make it across as the last man in the group of about a dozen that got away.
The next climb came around the 9km mark and save for one man – eventual race winner Wu Yunfei – who simply rode off the front into the murky horizon, the group stayed together for the entire 6km ascent up to the Longchi Tunnel. It was eerie riding through that and the frequent other tunnels that appeared on the Stage 1 and Stage 2 routes, but they were well lit and not pointing vertically down like many of the tunnels I’ve encountered in the Alps and Pyrenees. After reaching the other side of the Longchi Tunnel we got our first real crack at closed-road descending on a 4km stretch. It was fast and glorious and the rain had faded into a drizzle. A U-turn took us back up to the tunnel then down that 6km hill we’d climbed earlier.
The group was still together as we reached a long flat-to-rolling section around the 40km mark, at the end of which was the first feed station in the ancient town of Shuimo. Having survived the climbs and the descents I was happy to sit at the back until the feed station, but I was punished for my complacency and got caught out by an unexpected attack. Another rider, a local lad in shirt sleeves who I raced a large a part of Stages 1 and 2, looked at me as I looked at him and by the time we finally started working together to chase, the gap had stretched out and we never caught them, losing some 30 seconds in the process. Luckily for us the clock stopped for the 3km trip through Shuimo and we rejoined the group at the feed zone.
Of course first you have to climb well enough to be with the leaders before you can bomb down the descents in their company. And I nearly missed the train right at the start of the Stage 1, which was an 82km test that included 1,600 metres of climbing. The opening few kilometres were neutralised and from my position midway in the starting pen I thought I had plenty of time to make my way to the front, especially as the first hill on the road book profile at the 3km mark looked like a tiddler. It might have been fairly short at 1.5km in length, but it was steep enough to form an instant selection and I had to dig really deep to just make it across as the last man in the group of about a dozen that got away.
The next climb came around the 9km mark and save for one man – eventual race winner Wu Yunfei – who simply rode off the front into the murky horizon, the group stayed together for the entire 6km ascent up to the Longchi Tunnel. It was eerie riding through that and the frequent other tunnels that appeared on the Stage 1 and Stage 2 routes, but they were well lit and not pointing vertically down like many of the tunnels I’ve encountered in the Alps and Pyrenees. After reaching the other side of the Longchi Tunnel we got our first real crack at closed-road descending on a 4km stretch. It was fast and glorious and the rain had faded into a drizzle. A U-turn took us back up to the tunnel then down that 6km hill we’d climbed earlier.
The group was still together as we reached a long flat-to-rolling section around the 40km mark, at the end of which was the first feed station in the ancient town of Shuimo. Having survived the climbs and the descents I was happy to sit at the back until the feed station, but I was punished for my complacency and got caught out by an unexpected attack. Another rider, a local lad in shirt sleeves who I raced a large a part of Stages 1 and 2, looked at me as I looked at him and by the time we finally started working together to chase, the gap had stretched out and we never caught them, losing some 30 seconds in the process. Luckily for us the clock stopped for the 3km trip through Shuimo and we rejoined the group at the feed zone.
An interesting feature of Haute Route races is that at certain points which are perceived too dangerous to race through, untimed sections are introduced. This is usually applied for super technical descents, but in this case it was due to a 3km stretch of extremely narrow, twisty and cobbled lanes through the heritage town. There is usually a regrouping at the feed stations after these untimed sections and I definitely benefited on this day.
As soon as we’d left Shuimo the clock restarted and the road went up again onto what is known as the Balcony Road. It was probably the most memorable stretch of the entire race as it twisted its way up narrow, tree-lined roads, through a series of small villages and had a picture-postcard stunning view of the valley, river and mountains to the right. Aside from a few short downhills, the climb was about 7km in length and it split the previously tight lead group to smithereens. Four or five riders got ahead while I found myself next on the road with one other rider, Tim Wilcox of the Shanghai Roval Racing outfit. We worked well together, me setting the pace on the climbs, Tim leading the way on the big descent which followed. We stayed away all the way to the line and even caught one of the riders who had faded from the lead group. I rolled over the line seventh overall and eventually discovered this was good enough for second in my 45-54 age group. A decent start.
As soon as we’d left Shuimo the clock restarted and the road went up again onto what is known as the Balcony Road. It was probably the most memorable stretch of the entire race as it twisted its way up narrow, tree-lined roads, through a series of small villages and had a picture-postcard stunning view of the valley, river and mountains to the right. Aside from a few short downhills, the climb was about 7km in length and it split the previously tight lead group to smithereens. Four or five riders got ahead while I found myself next on the road with one other rider, Tim Wilcox of the Shanghai Roval Racing outfit. We worked well together, me setting the pace on the climbs, Tim leading the way on the big descent which followed. We stayed away all the way to the line and even caught one of the riders who had faded from the lead group. I rolled over the line seventh overall and eventually discovered this was good enough for second in my 45-54 age group. A decent start.
Stage 2
Stage 2 was the queen stage and ended up as one of the toughest days on the bike I can remember. It was considerably longer than Stage 1 at 132km, had 2,400m of elevation and the rain was heavier and never stopped until I crossed the finish line at the Qingcheng Mountain Gateway some four and a half hours after starting. Just standing on the line waiting for the official speeches and various dances to be completed was quite testing as the rain and cold was bone-chilling. But the people of Dujiangyan had prepared long and meticulously for this big day and so the least the Haute Route Qingcheng riders could do was to repay the hard work by honouring the grand opening ceremony.
When the race eventually rolled off it didn’t actually start as the riders had to deal with a strictly enforced 16km-long neutralised section. I’m sure this was a well-thought out safety measure but at that speed in the driving rain and bitter cold it was impossible to warm up. And the riders from the 500-strong “fun ride” that started five minutes after the official Haute Route race began to infiltrate our ranks. The flag off for the racing to start in earnest was a relief for everyone and it didn’t take long to finally get the blood flowing. The course was basically flat, though, for the first 40km, so there was still a huge peloton by the time we hit the first real climb.
Like on Stage 1, I nearly missed the front train as I struggled with the sudden increase of pace on the lower slopes and I found myself in no-man’s land between a lead group of maybe 12 riders and a string of cyclists behind. I knew this first climb was about 5km long and I knew if didn’t make it across any possible chances of glory were toast. It took a while as I first stabilised the gap then gradually ate into it, and it was a huge relief when I finally made contact with the back wheels of the bunch. At least now the cold wasn’t an issue.
Stage 2 was the queen stage and ended up as one of the toughest days on the bike I can remember. It was considerably longer than Stage 1 at 132km, had 2,400m of elevation and the rain was heavier and never stopped until I crossed the finish line at the Qingcheng Mountain Gateway some four and a half hours after starting. Just standing on the line waiting for the official speeches and various dances to be completed was quite testing as the rain and cold was bone-chilling. But the people of Dujiangyan had prepared long and meticulously for this big day and so the least the Haute Route Qingcheng riders could do was to repay the hard work by honouring the grand opening ceremony.
When the race eventually rolled off it didn’t actually start as the riders had to deal with a strictly enforced 16km-long neutralised section. I’m sure this was a well-thought out safety measure but at that speed in the driving rain and bitter cold it was impossible to warm up. And the riders from the 500-strong “fun ride” that started five minutes after the official Haute Route race began to infiltrate our ranks. The flag off for the racing to start in earnest was a relief for everyone and it didn’t take long to finally get the blood flowing. The course was basically flat, though, for the first 40km, so there was still a huge peloton by the time we hit the first real climb.
Like on Stage 1, I nearly missed the front train as I struggled with the sudden increase of pace on the lower slopes and I found myself in no-man’s land between a lead group of maybe 12 riders and a string of cyclists behind. I knew this first climb was about 5km long and I knew if didn’t make it across any possible chances of glory were toast. It took a while as I first stabilised the gap then gradually ate into it, and it was a huge relief when I finally made contact with the back wheels of the bunch. At least now the cold wasn’t an issue.
There had actually been a split in the front bunch, and I was in the second group, but we all came back together on the descent and there were around 10 of us ready to tackle the main event of the day, the 8km climb to the Xiange-Hongkou Pass. Like the Balcony Road of Stage 1, this climb featured a number of steps rather being a steady grind and was again on narrow roads. No villages this time, though, it was pure wild, backcountry. The sector averaged 5 percent but included a few steep ramps, the worst being the final 2km at 13 percent. I didn’t even try to go with leaders, instead just settling into my own climbing rhythm. It helped that I had Tim again for company, with one other Chinese rider doing his bit too. A few clicks from the top a rider came from nowhere to join us and he looked strong. Worse, he was Pavel Popiolek, the man immediately behind me on the age group GC. He actually went straight by and gapped us, so I had to dig deep to catch him. This tough climb also contained a bit of humour courtesy of the organisers placing the 1km-to-go sign some 800 metres early!
The clock was thankfully stopped for the initial part of the descent as it was steep, twisty and strewn with broken concrete and potholes. The untimed section ended just past the feed zone, where once again the front dozen or so riders regrouped before heading off down what was a fantastic and fast 20km descent. The only downside to this thrilling swoop down the mountain was that having stopped for five minutes at the feed zone at an altitude of 1,300m, the body had cooled considerably and certainly didn’t heat up during the descent. It was teeth-chattering freezing and I had to dig deep once again a few times to stay with the group. We then had 20km of flat-to-rolling roads before the next set of climbs and this was another miserable period. I think everybody was suffering as the pace was quite pedestrian and at such low speeds it was again difficult to get the core heated up.
The clock was thankfully stopped for the initial part of the descent as it was steep, twisty and strewn with broken concrete and potholes. The untimed section ended just past the feed zone, where once again the front dozen or so riders regrouped before heading off down what was a fantastic and fast 20km descent. The only downside to this thrilling swoop down the mountain was that having stopped for five minutes at the feed zone at an altitude of 1,300m, the body had cooled considerably and certainly didn’t heat up during the descent. It was teeth-chattering freezing and I had to dig deep once again a few times to stay with the group. We then had 20km of flat-to-rolling roads before the next set of climbs and this was another miserable period. I think everybody was suffering as the pace was quite pedestrian and at such low speeds it was again difficult to get the core heated up.
So it was actually a relief when the road finally started to rise again with roughly 27km to go. The next 15km was never flat, either going steeply up or sharply down. The bunch again split into mini groups. I found myself with Tim, Pavel and Mr Blue Helmet as I’d named one of the local riders. Tim eventually dropped us on one of the descents, and I tried to do the same to Pavel a few times, but he always came back round and positioned himself in front of me. I had one last go at the foot of the final climb and this time it worked. I was further inspired to keep going halfway up the 1.5km ascent when I spotted the race leader Wu Yunfei, ahead. He had obviously bonked, showing how tough a day it was.
After a short descent there was just 10km to go to the finish at the Qingcheng Mountain Gateway so I put my head down but kept looking back for any signs of Pavel, a big man who looked like more of a roleur than me. He didn’t come across, but Mr Blue Helmet did and we worked together for a while on what seemed like a flat run in. I was struggling to hit 30kph on my turns, though, and I thought for sure I was bonking too when my partner dropped me with 2km to go. Turns out the entire last 8km was up one long false flat, until the relief of 200m down to the line.
It had been a tough, tough day but as always, the pain quickly subsides when you climb off your bike, and I immediately reflected on another rewarding day in the saddle. For my efforts I was again seventh overall and second in the 45-54 age group. I can’t complain with that.
Stage 3
The three-day Haute Route events usually end with an individual time trial and that was again the case here in Dujiangyan. The task was a 13km trip straight up the Puhong Road Pass. The original route had 11km of flat leading into the climb, but the organisers cut that at the last minute, which suited me perfectly. I love an uphill time trial having been entranced by the closing stage of the Masters Tour of Chiang Mai every year up the mythical Doi Suthep mountain. The climb averaged 5 percent as it rose 700m to top out at the entire race’s high point of 1,435m at the Puhong Road Pass.
After a short descent there was just 10km to go to the finish at the Qingcheng Mountain Gateway so I put my head down but kept looking back for any signs of Pavel, a big man who looked like more of a roleur than me. He didn’t come across, but Mr Blue Helmet did and we worked together for a while on what seemed like a flat run in. I was struggling to hit 30kph on my turns, though, and I thought for sure I was bonking too when my partner dropped me with 2km to go. Turns out the entire last 8km was up one long false flat, until the relief of 200m down to the line.
It had been a tough, tough day but as always, the pain quickly subsides when you climb off your bike, and I immediately reflected on another rewarding day in the saddle. For my efforts I was again seventh overall and second in the 45-54 age group. I can’t complain with that.
Stage 3
The three-day Haute Route events usually end with an individual time trial and that was again the case here in Dujiangyan. The task was a 13km trip straight up the Puhong Road Pass. The original route had 11km of flat leading into the climb, but the organisers cut that at the last minute, which suited me perfectly. I love an uphill time trial having been entranced by the closing stage of the Masters Tour of Chiang Mai every year up the mythical Doi Suthep mountain. The climb averaged 5 percent as it rose 700m to top out at the entire race’s high point of 1,435m at the Puhong Road Pass.
It was thankfully dry, although still quite chilly, so I finally got a chance to show off the colours of the Specialized Roval Mavericks when I took my jacket off just before climbing onto the start ramp. You’ve got to love an event that builds a bone fide TT ramp for amateur racers. I was seventh last to go and my goals was to try and catch Pavel who started two slots (40 seconds) ahead of me and to try and hold off some of the six riders behind me. The legs felt good and I caught and passed the guy immediately ahead of me within the first kilometre and soon had Pavel dangling around 20 seconds in front of me. But try as I might for the entire ride up the mountain, I couldn’t catch him. I passed a slew of other riders but I also think all but two of the men who had started behind left me for dust. I felt like I gave it everything, though, and was happy with my effort when I crossed the finish line.
Time trials are about the only occasion I usually look at my power meter while racing (although I do love to pore over the data afterwards), but I couldn’t view what my live watts were due to a Garmin computer issue and when I did see the data from my watch post-race it revealed that I’d averaged 284 watts. I suppose that’s not bad for the 42 minutes and 52 seconds that it took me to cover the course, but I’m pretty sure if I could have seen the power numbers that I’d have kept the average over 300 watts. But not to worry. I ended up being the 11thfastest of the day and once again second in the 45-54 age group. I also kept my seventh place on the final overall GC and the runner’s-up spot in the age group. I’d certainly have taken those results had I been offered them before the race started. The winner of my age group was incidentally a fellow 50-something rider called Tim Proctor. The Beijing-based Brit put in a pretty impressive three days, going toe to toe with all the Chinese young guns for the GC win. He was actually in the race lead going into the time trial but ended up third on the final standings. No shame in being beat by such a rider in the age group.
The Haute Route Qingcheng was a tough but memorable experience and I’d certainly recommend it to any cyclist looking to combine travel with a bit of racing. But especially for Southeast Asian-based riders, the 2020 edition of Haute Route Qingcheng would be a great alternative to doing the same old races again.
Time trials are about the only occasion I usually look at my power meter while racing (although I do love to pore over the data afterwards), but I couldn’t view what my live watts were due to a Garmin computer issue and when I did see the data from my watch post-race it revealed that I’d averaged 284 watts. I suppose that’s not bad for the 42 minutes and 52 seconds that it took me to cover the course, but I’m pretty sure if I could have seen the power numbers that I’d have kept the average over 300 watts. But not to worry. I ended up being the 11thfastest of the day and once again second in the 45-54 age group. I also kept my seventh place on the final overall GC and the runner’s-up spot in the age group. I’d certainly have taken those results had I been offered them before the race started. The winner of my age group was incidentally a fellow 50-something rider called Tim Proctor. The Beijing-based Brit put in a pretty impressive three days, going toe to toe with all the Chinese young guns for the GC win. He was actually in the race lead going into the time trial but ended up third on the final standings. No shame in being beat by such a rider in the age group.
The Haute Route Qingcheng was a tough but memorable experience and I’d certainly recommend it to any cyclist looking to combine travel with a bit of racing. But especially for Southeast Asian-based riders, the 2020 edition of Haute Route Qingcheng would be a great alternative to doing the same old races again.