Will's Wheels Alpine Special, from Bourg St Maurice.

Stockport to Haute Savoie before 4pm. 1400km driving on nothing more than a bottle of fizzy water and 500 euros of fuel.

Tuesday. Easy day starting with 20km up the Cormet de Roseland. 1967m at the top, piece of piss....bring on the next one. Lac de Roseland as stunning as ever with its rich turquoise waters sparkling in the sun. I peered over the wall of the barrage and nearly died of fright....!

Another ascent to the top of the Col de Pre before a multi hair pinned descent down through Arreche and Beaufort. First mistake......we ride through the town without stopping for lunch.

Leaving the valley at Villard sur Doran, the climb to Les Saises is torture. Haven't eaten since breakfast and blow my lights out. Harry's back gives out and Yates is very much in trouble with that extra 3 stone he's carrying.

"The chef has gone home" is not what we wanted to hear. Crash back down from 1600m to Beaufort for some cake and coffee. It's very nice but too little too late. Back up the north side of the beautiful Cormet de Roseland and Will, Chris and myself are completely bolloxed. During the final kilometre, Will is hanging over his drops and sweating profusely.....that was very funny.

At the dinner table I shift the blame for such an arduous first day onto Guy, a friend of Hugh's who recommended some alterations to my original (easy) route.....just about got away with that one.

Sharing the bunks that night, Greg and I start our farting duel that has overtones of Blazing Saddles.

Wednesday, easy ride to Moutier is anything but. The road to La Combe that climbs the north side of the Isere valley is relentlessly steep. A minor road with zero traffic, the steep climb winds its way through stunning forest before a serious of six 50m hairpins drags us above the tree line. Beyond La Combe the road is un surfaced and the tough climb gets much tougher. Yates is regretting coming away sporting man boobs and we know his heart rate monitor is really a bra. The climb tops out at around 1900m before plummeting back down to civilisation and a perfectly timed stop for lunch at Moutiers.

The south side of the valley is equally tough and the hot afternoon sun melts us on the 10km climb to Notre Dame du Pres. Phil Bridge shows his hand here and impressively shows us what we all knew he was capable of. He flattens the climb like Alberto Contador whilst Greg is forced to play Lance Armstrong. The descent back down to Bourg is littered with sprints and high spirited divvying about. Cracking day.

After a further heavily cheese infused meal and some local wine, Greg and myself resume battle cranking up the methane levels in the apartment to ever more exciting intensity.

Thursday, It's all too much for Will and Greg and in their capacity as ex professional types, they have a rest day...booo, shame on you pussies. The rest of us begin the 50km ascent through the Isere valley up to Val d'Isere and onward to scale the mighty Col de l'Iseran. Harry Shaw and I come to grief in one of the poorly lit tunnels. I somehow manage to stay upright by the seat of my new Assos shorts whilst Harry hits the deck. Had there been any traffic in the tunnel at this point, it's likely that we may have suffered a lot more heavily than my damaged back wheel and Harry's beefburgered arse cheek.

Some quick repairs and I know that beginning the final 14km of the Iseran on such a damaged back wheel is a risky business. At the summit the air is very cold and there is snow that has been there since last winter. The cafe charges a staggering 11 euros for a piece of cake and a coffee. Jimmy Froggatt's theory of Altitude Inflation is demonstrated to perfection as last man up, Yatesey, is delivered the final blow by the lovely girl at the till.

The wheel holds out on the plunge back to Val d'Isere and after Harry and Chris scuttle off back down the main road like another pair of pussies, Hugh, Jimmy, Phil and myself take an alternative route across the Barrage du Tignes. After stopping to look over the edge and frightening myself stupid, we plummet down the valley on minor roads visiting La Guraz to view the overhanging glaciers. Hugh thinks he can get the sprint for La Guraz but despite knowing exactly where the sign is, he gives the game away too early and I beat him in a 34x27 Harold Lloyd style sprint. At Villaroger, Jimmy is breathing like a yak in the Grand National as we sprint for the sign. We finally finish the ride on several kilometres of rough track back to Bourg. Another brilliant ride.

The night time fart off takes on a new ferocity. The apartment is planned in such a way that the open door to the balcony creates enough of a draught to lift the cheese fuelled methane cloud up onto the mezzanine area where Will is sleeping. Both Will and Hugh are now very much aware of the nocturnal digestive activities of both Greg and myself.

Friday is the big one. For some time now Hugh and I have debated the possibility of getting across to Italy via the Col de la Seigne. At over 2500m and without any road for 7 or 8km, this represented a tough challenge. Whilst the weather was holding, we set off up the Cormet de Roseland before turning just short of the summit to Ville des Glaciers.

I got bitten by a dog at this point which angered me greatly. Being unaware of my injuries until I had stopped up the road was the only thing that saved the dog from being held down and cudgelled to death with a piece of Alpine rock.

Ville des Glaciers sits high up the valley and is little more than a collection of refuge buildings on the Tour Mont Blanc route. From here you can see the huge glaciers of the southern Mont Blanc Massif and the vastness of the surroundings makes you feel like an ant.

We rode, pushed and dragged our bikes up the tracks and paths that wind ever upwards. We pass very well kitted out mountain walkers with sticks and goggles who are a little surprised to see cyclists in short sleeve jerseys and shorts on racing style bikes. As the summit approaches, barren, windy and cold, Will does his Three Peaks training and runs across the rock strewn slopes to beat me good and proper. My second place to the top of the Col de la Seigne was as good as it got. It's a wild place with a big cairn dressed with Tibetan style bunting blessing all those that pass by. The view into Italy and onto the white icy glaciers is mind blowing.

It's too cold to hang around and we are soon crashing down steep, boulder strewn paths. Pack horses are bringing luggage up to the refuge for Tour Mont Blanc expeditions. They are a lot less surprised than the two legged participants to be greeted by cyclists descending like lunatics. Fortunately, by the time we reach the lower parts of the valley, we have only knocked one person over.

We locate a remote bar/restaurant. Probably not had any custom for some time. They speak good French despite being Italian and we sit down for a meal of unknown description. Masses of melted cheese and pollenta, sausages in a rich tomato sauce and quantities that would have fed several of the pack horses we'd passed earlier. Will would have preferred a baked potato and didn't really like the Italian mountain food. I ate loads, in fact I could barely move when we left.

Courmayeur and down to Pres St Didier to begin the ascent of the Col du Petit Saint Bernard back into France. Not a good afternoon for myself or Hugh as we ground to a halt, unable to digest the afternoon meal which had probably solidified like renovation plaster throughout our intestines. Even the overweight Yates dropped us by some considerable margin.

Multi hairpin descent back into Bourg not really that great. The gradient is too shallow to produce any hair raising speeds and you had to pedal between bends, typical Tour de France parcours. I chased Will and Greg like an idiot but gave up after La Rosiere.

Still struggling to digest the pollenta, could only manage entrecote and frites, a pudding and a little wine for evening meal. Harry even joined us this evening.

Newton squeezed a few out before bed time thinking he was going to have the edge. Hard to say who produced the greatest quantity of gas but the temperature in the enclosed area that the bunks were housed certainly rose by a few degrees.

Saturday was the opportunity for some rest. We enjoyed the festivities in the town from the traditional Savoyard celebrations whilst doing a little shopping. We take in a pizza on the pavement cafe and place bets on the next pedestrian to fall foul of a freshly laid dog poo. Great fun.

With Francois and Dennis cooking us all a meal that evening, I was going to have to work up an appetite. Fort de la Platte was not too far away, in fact a mere 14 or 15km up to the north of Bourg.

The road was steep enough as it twisted and turned but became even tougher as the tarmac was replaced with rock dust and gravel. Froggatt spat his dummy when he saw how far up the mountain the fort really was "I've done enough of your stupid f***ing routes". At the summit, the Fort lay upon a small pinnacle. Its present day occupiers are goats, pigs and horses and the production of mouldy cheese is undertaken here. It took us an hour and a half to get to the top and a further half an hour to return to Bourg. It was worth the effort though because the meal that Francois and Dennis laid on was a considerable size.

Tartiflette, meats, fine wine and a stunning pudding made by Guy's wife. Bootleg Genapi was served at the end of the evening and we guffawed as the 90% alcohol potion lifted the hair off your head. Chris Yates drank it a little too quick and was reduced to a grinning looney for a short while, much to the amusement of our French hosts.

Will, Hugh and Jimmy, who has now moved in, go to bed wearing breathing apparatus. The following morning, Jimmy tells us that the stench of putrefied cheese is preferable to the sight of Chris and Harry walking around the other apartment stark bollock naked.

Sunday was a chance to ride with the local club. Unfortunately, the local riders had gone to Marseille to do a Sportif. There are however, two locals on hand who are going to show us a good route. Blinged up with carbon bikes and lightweight hoops, our French friends take off down the main road to Moutiers. Insisting we must ride through and off, we charge down the valley like idiots with our French chums, lets call them Antoine and Jean Paul, doing everything possible to make it very uncomfortable. After a couple of hours they've both cracked and been taught a thing or two about going down mountains. We leave them to continue home along the main road whilst we opt for something a little more less like a motorway.

Back up the to Notre Dame du Pris and along the valley for a ride up to Les Arcs. Hugh is going very strong and having a great day, despite trying very hard, I can't drop him. By the time we reach Les Arcs, Chris Yates is wide eyed and legless "I must have something to eat....". Teasing him with descriptions of pizzas and frites, we crest the summit through the woods behind Arc 1800 and plummet back down into Bourg. Greg has avoided the mountain and is relaxing in the bath with several bottles of beer.

Monday is the last day and everyone's keen for one final bit of adventure. The Cormet d'Arreche is over 2100m and has around 12km of dirt tracks on its higher slopes. It's a tough ride to the top but takes in some stunning mountain terrain. The descent through Arreche and on to Beaufort takes us nicely to our lunch stop destination.

Jimmy, Hugh and myself blow 42euros on a fondue. The pan of melted cheeses flavoured with spirits and spice is an unusual lunch time dish. Its consistency once in the mouth is also very strange and it goes down the throat like a rubber oyster. There's tons of it and I'm sure that I consume the lions share.

There's as an easy way back, a tough way back and a non vehicular route. As we climb higher and higher on the difficult forest track, the surface becomes more uneven and is covered in loose stone. It's difficult to get good purchase and it tests strength and patience to the limit. Appearing to be lost and with the temperature dropping quickly, Harry cracks "Yer Whaaaa".

We soon find our way to the top of the Col du Pre and find ourselves once again on the Barrage de Roseland. It's late and everyone has had a tough day. Cresting the Cormet de Roseland for the last time, we drop down to Bourg like idiots. Will and myself keep just close enough to Yates as he takes all the corners like a mad man. If he does plant himself into the front of a Renault 5, we were in the best position to witness it.

The last night in the Pizzeria is a merry occasion. The tattooed girl is as friendly as ever and assists our inebriation further with complimentary brandy. I eat a large salad, the bulk of my calzone (I baulked a little when a raw egg slid out from inside like the guts of a dead animal) and a superb ice cream dessert.

My lower gut is completely sealed with the fondue that I consumed. I feel very unwell throughout the 1400km journey home. It is Wednesday night before I am able to blast the cheese blockage from my system with an extra spicy stir fry.

The week was blessed with the usual Will's Wheels glorious weather and the group worked well together. Jimmy Froggatt was awesome as ever riding around all of the Alpine routes on a 23 sprocket bottom gear. Greg was incredibly strong and used phenomenal power to drag his paunch up all of the climbs at great speed. Phil was also without doubt the man with glimpses of huge talent when he could be bothered. Will was not in the greatest of shape but never a man to sit up and be beaten. Chris Yates was certainly man of the match in the laughs department and shed a stone in the first two days alone. Hugh was very consistent on the bike, strong on every climb. He is also a really confident French speaker, the rest of us idiots would have struggled without him. Harry was of course the fittest person there as usual, I just hope he shows more style when he's off road with his bling mountain bike. I personally found a lot of it very hard. I thought I might get to the top of at least one Col first......! Chris Riley.   CLICK HERE for picture gallery.

Tuesday. Cormet de Roseland 1967m, Col du Pre 1748m, Col de Saises 1600m, Cormet de Roseland (north Ascent) 1967m. 78miles, 11.7mph average.

Wednesday. La Combe 1900m, Moutiers, Notre dame du Pris 1300m. 60miles, 11.7mph average.

Thursday. Col de l'Iseran 2770m, La Guraz. 64miles, 12.9mph average.

Friday. Ville des Glaciers, Col de la Seigne 2516m, Courmayeur, Col du Petit Saint-Bernard 2154m. 65miles, 10.9mph average.

Saturday. Fort de la Platte 2000m. 18miles, 8.4mph average.

Sunday. Moutiers, Bozal, Notre Dame du Pris 1300m, Peisey Nancroix, Arc 1800 1842m. 74miles, 14.2mph average.

Monday. Cormet d'Arreche 2109m, Beaufort, Col du Pre 1748m, Cormet de Roseland. 58miles, 10.6mph average.