Kilometer 106-108. Climbing. Hands on the bars, my wrists in front of me. They’re wet.
Kilometer 109. Col de la Sereyréde. An opening in the woods. A guardrail, a bench, a half a millstone, undoubtedly pointing out the highlights of a panorama spreading for miles around. Mist.
To the right is a road down; to the left is one going up. A gendarme is pointing left. We go left.
Was that really the Col de la Sereyréde? That went quickly.
– The Rider by Tim Krabbé