Locals make lifelong dreams a reality
Often there is no perfect time to take that long-awaited trip of a lifetime. Expenses aside, it can seem intimidating - though the perspective gained often helps us better enjoy our lives back home. For three Chattanoogans, 2016 proved to be their year to grab life by the horns, so to speak, and go, whether that experience included being nearly stampeded by more than a dozen enraged bulls, ascending the highest peaks of the Tour de France or honing photography skills in the fjords of Iceland. By simply making the decision to venture out, their lives were changed forever, and their stories just might inspire your best year ever in 2017. * Chattanooga-based cycling group takes on Europe's toughest and most famous climbs* Thoughts of mortality, growing wanderlust lead photographer to 'Land of Fire and Ice'* Chattanooga-transplant travels to Spain to run with the bulls
David Graham, by his own admission, may not be an elite cyclist capable of competing in world-class races like the Tour de France. But after a bike ride trip through the French Alps - on some of those same roads - the 31-year-old better understands the fortitude required to ascend some of the highest peaks, something his 12 years of cycling experience on the trails of Chattanooga couldn't prepare him for.
"It definitely made me realize Lookout Mountain isn't that big," laughs Graham. But the experience did make him feel more of a connection to professional cyclists.
"To be able to come back and watch the Tour and point and say 'I remember that!' is amazing," he says.
Graham took the trip with 15 of his comrades, all members of Team Bubba, a laid-back Chattanooga-based cycling group that anyone can join. They booked their guided tour through Discover France, which would take the cyclists from Mont Ventoux - one of the most grueling components of the Tour de France due to its elevation and steep grade - to L'Alp d'Huez, a towering ski resort farther north. Ventoux stands 6,273 feet tall, while L'Alp d'Huez is only 150 feet shorter, with a wide, sweeping valley of wildflowers separating the two.
While the trip was only 275 miles in distance, Graham says they ascended 32,500 feet throughout the six-day venture. For comparison, Mt. Everest stands 29,029 feet tall.
"The guide would tell us, 'We're going to go on this little two-kilometer climb,' and that's not such a little climb," Graham recalls. "I'd think, 'That's a real hill back where I come from!'"
Lookout Mountain, which he climbs regularly, is roughly 3/4 of a kilometer.
Graham says the challenge of ascending France's tallest peaks with his best friends was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. The evenings after each hard day of cycling were filled with excellent food and a rustic village atmosphere that can't be re-created anywhere in the United States. The smell of hundred-year-old pubs, built out of pine from right there on the mountain, coupled with homegrown French wine is difficult to beat, Graham says.
Just as meaningful was being able to spend time with his teammates. While Graham gets the opportunity to cycle with them a few times a week for a few hours, this trip had them ride together for eight hours a day, six days in a row.
"I think having everyone there helps with motivation," he says. "It's a lot easier to push myself when I have friends riding with me and to talk about it with afterwards."
Sharing those natural views made them all the sweeter, Graham adds. Despite having visited France previously, he was astounded at the gorgeous vistas - snow-dusted pine forests, craggy peaks overlooking lowlands bursting with wildflowers, 800-year-old chapels.
The most memorable ride of the trip came on the second day, when the group cycled the Col de la Croix de Fer, or Pass of the Iron Cross. While it has been featured in the Tour de France 16 times, Graham said it's not as well-known as summits like Mont Ventoux, nor is it as strenuous.
The most remote route of the trip, there were no villages, no houses as they climbed toward the eponymous iron cross at the summit. The only evidence of human intervention was the classically European hairpin-filled road, a small chalet and, finally, that cross standing vigilant over the serene peaks and valleys of the French Alps.
"Near the top, we encountered these few guys herding sheep in the meadows," says Graham. "And it was just 360-degree view of alpine peaks and waterfalls in the valley. We stopped and got beer and coffee and had a picnic on the side of the road. We really were living the dream."
After their descent down the mountain, Graham and his fellow cyclists rewarded themselves with an espresso at a cafe nestled in a small town at the foot of the climb. French cheese and wine, coupled with conversation with other travellers, filled the rest of the night.
While Graham admits there wasn't a bad day on the trip, riding the Path of the Iron Cross was cycling at its finest, if only for the purity of the ride. No cars, no stoplights, no pedestrians - just men, their bikes and the open road.
"I'd say most people who cycle have probably thought about this sort of trip," Graham says. "Whatever hurdles it takes to get there, it's worth it."