So having managed to overcome the slight panic about food, water and shelter, not too mention the sheer physical exhaustion of our off the scale day, the evening then simply proceeded to get weirder.

Our room was far from luxury but we were so, so grateful (thank you so much Gite Rochelle, you really did save us!) that we could barely contain our excitement about being in a room, with a bed (well four of them actually!) a hot shower and, get this, electric heaters.

As mentioned the very kind owner of Gite Rochelle had offered us the use of her kitchen and provided us with the basics for a meal and some breakfast. 

Whilst trying to hunt out food and lodgings earlier Marc and Dan had managed to  find a bar that seemed to be open but the owner (who we later decided very much resembled a Tweenie but in human form....this is not an insult, simply a fact) seemed very keen to list out all the things we couldn’t have, like food for example....not super inviting to be honest. 

Given the total absence of options we decided though, knowing that we already had pasta dinner in the bag, that once we were clean, warm and changed we would go and see if she was serious about the “no food” thing....i mean surely they had a bag of crisps or some porky things?

They didn’t......what they did seem to have, rather incongruously given we were in a town which was quite literally, and ironically, quieter than “La Grave”, was a jazz evening....yep...not a mistype, a jazz evening.

Over the course of the evening (and yes we did stay quite a while enjoying the finer qualities of the local draft beer) a few things became apparent. Firstly it takes 2 hours (not an exaggeration....they messed around for 2 whole hours) to properly set up if you are a proper “jazz” band. Secondly it was very apparent that everyone in the bar, with the exception of us of course (although the night is young!), was a member of the band and thirdly they bloody did do food just not for us. We only know this because at exactly 730 everyone in the bar, and I do mean everyone, stood up and headed upstairs where they proceeded to taunt us with their foody smells and chomping noises. Not deterred (primarily because the beer was so good) we stuck around waiting to hear what a 37 piece jazz band might actually sound like.

Turns out not too bad at all and in fact we ended up having a really lovely (albeit still very hungry) evening. When we eventually rolled back down to the Gite (and I literally rolled, let’s just say I was very tired and emotional by the time we headed home) I simply could not face the faff of cooking and went straight to bed. Marc and Dan, who were both in a very similar emotional state decided they absolutely had to eat. Apparently this went well as the Gite had not burnt down in the morning. 

We woke around 6 as usual all feeling a little “heady” but warm and dry and two of us at least had full bellies.

We threw some cereal and coffee at our faces and when we eventually headed off at around 8am we realised within two pedal stokes that I have picked up a puncture and so a quick repair and we are off again

As we leave the town and continue to climb and climb and climb we realise how very lucky we were that the campsite owner called us and steered us to the Gite last night. This is not cycling anyone wants to do on an empty stomach at the end of an already ridiculously hard day.

As we roll slowly into the tiny village of Villar d’Arene just a few kilometres up the road Dan makes the frankly ridiculous suggestion that we should try and find a shop. Marc and I are both openly scathing of such a suggestion....(it’s France, on a Sunday and we are in the Alps...don’t be a numpty!). Miraculously we almost immediately have to eat our words and apologise as we stumble across the teeniest, but incredibly well stocked little  shop ever and it’s open! 

The owner is a delight and can’t stop chatting with us (I suspect he does not get an awful lot of human interaction or indeed trade) and as we cycle off with our purchases he thrusts a cling filmed pack of salami at us (which we eat later and is amazing)

We are of course delighted to find out that the pass we are aiming for (Lautaret) is open but it’s a measure of what we are contending with that it’s not a given as you can see. We have no intention of cycling up Galibier as well thank you very much but nonetheless, it’s an eye opener.

The road continues up and up and up and up and on the back of yesterday’s monumental efforts we are feeling totally spent and it is not even 11am. Eventually though we are rewarded with the summit of the spectacular Col du Lautaret at a massive 2058m (6751 feet in old money or more staircases than I care to mention). It is incredible and we are all just totally amazed at our achievement.....we are actually doing it, we are cycling through the alps…..

What goes up most of course come down and so there is a very chilly descent down to Briancon at around 4000 feet. By this point we are all three just about hanging on, desperate for a rest and even more desperate for some food. The whole Sunday thing again seems to be about to thwart us until we see those joyful 2 Golden Arches hove into view....yes i am a bit ashamed but we were really desperate. If it helps I think the Briancon branch of McDonalds will be speaking for years to come about the day three broken men staggered in and pretty much cleaned them out of their entire stock in 10 minutes flat…..it was not pretty.

Once we have wiped ourselves down and put the restaurant back together as best we can we prepare ourselves for our final Alps challenge, the climb up to Montegenevre and then on into Italy.

Again like all things Alps, it is relentlessly massive and exhausting and now with the added joy of rain and the horrid wind that has been working against since we stepped off the ferry in Dieppe is back again and has now become icily cold. It is unbelievably hard going and honestly as I type now looking back on our last three days I simply have no idea how we have managed all of this and especially that final, horrific, torturous climb, but of course we did.

When we finally reach the summit in amongst all the ski runs the weather is now really unpleasant and so there is no time to dawdle. It’s already after 2pm and we still have 54 miles to go to our campsite on the outskirts of Turin. The good news is that every single one of those miles is flat or down….no more climbing!!!

We blast down through the valley out of the alps and into Italy, keen to escape the weather as soon as we possibly can. We pause for “caffe con latte” (I had only just learnt how to order coffee in French for goodness sake!) ....

....and then pedal on as fast as we can. Eventually as the road flattens out and we leave the alps behind the rains does stop and the temperature starts to rise.

We arrive at our destination on the outskirts of Turin around 530, set up camp and decide, at last, that now would be a good time to do some washing (I know, right!)

So we have made it to Italy, which just feels totally surreal in itself, but the alps really have been the most incredible and most challenging physical experience any of us have ever endured.....it’s really hard to believe we did it, but we did and not any single bit of it was in anyway easy. It has I think been a life affirming test of endurance and I am just so proud of us…..we made it.

Final bit for the day, my lovely wife Jo (Hi gorgeousness, can’t wait to see you in Rome….x) noticed a photo of me turning myself inside out up Alpe D’Huez where I have the self same slightly strange looking (some might call it endearing) pouty face as a photo of me when I was just a few months old. I can tell you something that cute little chubby face (I am talking about the photo on the right to be clear!) never once imagined he would one day cycle from London to Rome, through the Alps with panniers, a tent and his two mates….I mean that would just be crazy!