The glacial mountain air seems to manage to seep into my hotel room when I wake up this morning. Dressed quickly, I have a light but vitamin-packed breakfast, then swap my “town” outfit for my “road” one.

Die is still somewhat asleep when I set off on the road to the Col du Rousset. If the gradient isn’t very steep, the climb is long! Eighteen kilometers to get through this first pass, first in the clouds, then under a comforting sun.

I descend back into the heart of the park, to the small village of Saint-Agnan-en-Vercors, where, miraculously, a little bakery is open. That’s more than enough to make me happy: I have lunch there on reheated pasta and a lemon tartlet. They let me eat in the warm, because outside the air is polar and staying still in lycra is not really an option.

After setting off again, the calm is short-lived; this time, a ten-kilometer pass catches me, steeper than the first. The week of cycling is starting to take its toll, I struggle a bit and even surprise myself by grumbling on the steepest gradients!

At the top, no reward, barely a small sign in the forest indicating the end of the ordeal. Luckily, the trees are as beautiful as ever, as is the long undulating road that drops me off at Villard-de-Lans.

From there to Grenoble, it’s just a short step. A long straight line - unfortunately, cars race along it - then, at the end, endless switchbacks down into the valley. It descends so steeply that I start to freeze, on this north-facing slope.

Finally arrived in the city, I join the friend who is putting me up for the night. This evening, happy, still has the feel of the end of a journey.