For Alpe D'Huez to be a truly epic experience, it should be part of a much longer ride, including some of the notable nearby cols (that's mountain, in euro-speak).  But for us, time was limited, and the goal was to make it back with plenty of time to watch the race, scheduled to pass through around 4pm.

We started at Bourg D'Oisans, at just before 10.  By 10:04 we had reached the first hairpin, and had finished the climb by 11:18 (which included several stops and a rather leisurely pace overall).  Alpe D'Huez is in no way comparable to Mont Ventoux, or Sonora Pass for that matter.  The frequent (and numbered) switchbacks help pass the time, and the ever-changing grade breaks up the monotony as well.  And the views?  You couldn't say enough about the spectacular beauty!

We spent about half an hour at the top, and then headed back down, turning off the main drag at the hamlet of Huez and taking 211B through Villard-Reculas, which then becomes 44B, which hooks up with 44, which connects to 526, which takes you to 91 and, finally, back to Bourg D'Oisans.  It's probably less than 40 miles total, and definitely leaves you wanting more!

From what I've read, the 211A (on the lower part of the map above) is the killer road in the area, one of those classic grades that hugs the mountainside with virtually no shoulder and low guardrails that serve little purpose other than to mark the edge of the road (and, fortunately, virtually zero traffic as well!).

The right-hand photo has to be the ultimate blackmail shot.  We're heading back towards Bourg D'Oisans on this pleasant little country road and, without computers on our bikes, not really aware of our speed.  Then, out of nowhere, comes a hopped-up super-moped, speeding past us and threatening to fly ahead of us into town.

Hey, we can't have that happen, can we?  So we bolt upright and come to our senses, thinking there's no way a stinkin' moped (they do stink, you know, being two-stroke engines) can mess with us.  Quickly we latch onto his wheel, and he struggles to try to stay away, but we tenaciously hang onto his tail.

Well, that would have been our story, until some guy on a Bike Friday (a folding commuter bike) dings his bell and passes both us and the moped.  Talk about being caught!  This was humiliation at its very worst, so we quickly regrouped, sped around the moped and chased the guy down (leaving the moped where it should have been all along, way back in the distance).

Richard B, if you're reading this, the guy was from Edinburgh (my apologies if I botched the town) and had the local cycling club's jersey.  I would have asked if he knew you, except that my mind was still dealing with the shame of having drafted a moped for a few kilometers...