That time I camped in my car in the French Alps

a small town in the Alps

Our plan for day 12 went a little something like this: take a leisurely drive up Alpe d’Huez to see what the atmosphere was like prior to the Tour coming through in 2 days’ time, drive from there to Col du Galibier, where the Tour was finishing the following day, find a good spot to watch from, park the car there and camp overnight in the car so we could get a great view without moving the following day.

view from one of the switchbacks of Alpe d'Huez, with Tour graffiti in the foreground

What actually happened went a little more like this: we drove to Alpe d’Huez and had one of the most hair-raising drives of our lives as we tried to pass the thousands of cyclists (no, that’s not an exaggeration) who were making their way up the already-dangerous 21 hairpin bends, as well as dodging badly parked cars, cars flying down from the opposite direction and tourists who thought the road was actually a public meeting place. I did a little bit of backseat driving (a.k.a. panicking) which led to an argument and a two-way silent treatment that lasted almost the whole time we were on the top of the mountain. The crowds were already crazy, even two days before the Tour was due to arrive, and there were caravans and tents in just about every available space.

caravans galore; with a backdrop of unseasonably snow-topped mountains

Feeling nervous about how busy Galibier might be already, we drove back down the mountain (slightly less hair-raising) and were greeted at the bottom by a sign informing us that Col du Galibier was fermée (closed) due to snow. Thankfully Mandy found us another route where we approached Galibier from the other side, but it was an extremely long and mountainous one, on even more treacherous roads than Alpe d’Huez. At one point we watched a car overtake another car and some cyclists as they were all approaching a blind corner. Just before the corner another car came tearing down the mountain and we were sure we were about to see an horrific accident. Miraculously, everyone escaped unharmed but it didn’t do much for my already tightly wound nerves!

We drove as far as we could before eventually reaching the Col du Galibier road block, 8km from the top. We turned around and found somewhere to camp hoping, along with the hundreds of other road-side campers, that we’d be allowed to drive up in the morning.

our view for the evening

Brendan and I are not the roughing-it types. Sure, we’ve been camping with family or friends but it would never be our first choice of holiday, and we pretty much suck at it. For example, we bought a disposable barbecue on which to cook our dinner for the night but completely forgot to buy matches or a lighter, which resulted in Brendan driving back to the closest village and visiting about 7 stores before he found one! Also, we didn’t exactly pack for snowy weather, so we stopped on the way to Col du Galibier to buy some cheap blankets and we basically had to wear every item we had brought in order to stay warm. Anyway…it was just one night so we figured we could probably survive as long as we could think like Bear Grylls!

dinner: grilled sausages & red pepper

French wine sipped out of plastic cups = classy!

barbecued peaches. so good!

After we’d enjoyed our dinner and huddled over the warm coals for as long as possible, the sun started setting and the cold evening settled in:

gorgeous sunset colours!

We retired to ‘bed’ (a.k.a. the car boot/trunk) and watched half a film on the laptop (told you we’re not good at camping) before giving up and trying to get some sleep. I won’t complain for too long but it was one of the most uncomfortable and cold nights of my life. The temperature outside the car was 3ºC, which means the temperature inside was around 3.5ºC and I can assure you that a thin polar-fleece blanket doesn’t do much to change that. I slept fitfully, gaining multiple bruises as I tried to find a comfortable position, but the main thing is…we survived. Bear Grylls would be proud!

our bed...