It’s often said that cycling is unique, in that you can play in the same sporting arenas as your heroes. You can’t just rock up at Wembley or Lords and expect to get a run-around with your mates, but you can go and ride the roads made famous by your favourite race. You can go to Châteauroux and sprint across the line like Cavendish or emulate any of your favourite Tour winners by going to the Alps or Pyrenees. The roads are public and nobody will stop you.

Col de la Madeleine is one such arena. Not one of the biggest: not a Nou Camp or Maracanã but the next tier down. Maybe St James’s Park. Unless you were a Newcastle fan, it wouldn’t be the highlight of your year but you’d at least tell your mates you’d gone and banged one in, in front of an empty Gallowgate. For a football fan that would be a pretty big deal.

These big climbs are hard, too, and I don’t think anyone really appreciates how hard they are. If you’ve never ridden a road bike, you might think 1998m sounds like a lot of up, and you’d be right, but you’d probably shrug if asked to elaborate. But if you’ve ever actually ridden it, you’re probably a cycling fan and probably did it while you were young and fit and made entirely of levers. In which case, you’d probably chat about how the ramps were a bit tricky and once you’d found your rhythm blah blah blah fuel and hydration. You’re probably not tackling your first Alpine pass at the age of 50 on a knackered old steel bike with all your camping gear strapped to the back.

We were up at 7am for our attempt, and after a quick Trangia coffee and swift packup we were soon on our way along the excellent cycle route that runs along the west side of Lake Annecy. Some sections were absolutely stunning: a perfect strip of tarmac running through meadows of wildflowers, flanked with mountains. At the head of the valley our route split off to the left and we followed a less glorious route to Albertville, leaving the meadows on exchange for a route that followed the motorway. Still, it was fast and efficient and after a good Italian coffee in town we were off again and soon at the base of the climb.

The start of the climb was a shock. An 11% gradient for the first kilometre: fine unladen, but with panniers it was hard going. We both had moments when we wondered what the hell we were doing there. It’s hard to explain how the difficulty can become overwhelming. Every thought was how hard it was, how far, how we’d surely never get there. But we started to grind out our separate rhythms and spun the pedals as best we could. Soon the first of the 26km was over and the gradient eased. We’d passed the first test.

Graeme and I have different riding styles. He spins the pedals and grinds his way up efficiently, inch by inch, whereas I have more low-cadence power and try to push my way through the hardest bits. This means that I usually climb more powerfully but not, in my opinion, necessarily quicker, although that’s hard to explain. But I was soon inching my way ahead into the hairpins, shouting encouragement back, and we crawled on upwards.

Behind the views down the valley were opening up. Looking back, I could see hilltop buildings that had loomed above us and were now far below. Villages in the valley floor were specks. I would look up at buildings and find myself puffing past them minutes later. The kilometres ticked past so slowly, but they did tick,

At the village of Celliers we stopped for a beer, and I met a lovely dog who reminded me so much of Maggie at home.

After the bar we had 10km to go – maybe an hour. The roads are exposed here, the views exceptional, and you feel close to changes in the elements. At one point a bank of cloud threatened over the mountains to our right and spat a few droplets at us; we passed a bank of snow that boulders had recently tumbled over and blocked part of the road. The risk was all around. Still we climbed.

The hardest part was the penultimate kilometre, when the gradient went back to a tough 10% just when we wanted it least. We ground the pedals onward. On the road, we were both counting pedal strokes at this point, going almost nowhere one push at a time. Still moving but only just.

There is one final hairpin that draws the curtains back and momentarily lays out the whole route behind you before you swing back for the col. A flat few hundred metres and you’re there, in a little car park with a monument and bar and awesome views in all directions. There were maybe a dozen people there with some leaving and arriving every few minutes. Apart from the photos we were done. We chatted to a few people and took one another’s photos in front of the monument, which appeared to have added a couple of extra metres to the col’s official height of 1998m.

It would have been nice to stop and much on some cheese, but it was too cold and we moved on quickly. The descent to La Chambre is beautiful but steep and we had to stop a few times to warm our hands up.

More of the same tomorrow: Galibier. Now that really is a San Siro.