Mont Ventoux 

Monday 18 June 2012

Journeying in the van to the farmhouse where we would stay, we could see it, looming imperiously above us. The Mont Ventoux.  Never mind all the challenging Alpine and Pyrenean mountains climbed in the cycling Tour de France, this Giant of Provence is acknowledged as being the most difficult to ascend by bicycle.

 

It’s hot in Provence, often above 100F.  Thankfully, our chosen day began much cooler, with a cloud covering and a hint of rain.  A precautionary, early start included a walk through the lively street market in Bédoin, the village at the foot of the mountain. There are three roads up the mountain, our chosen one from Bédoin being the hardest, the usual Tour de France route.  Harder for us because its distance (21.5 kilometres / 13.5 miles) is much longer than any mountains or hills here in the UK, meaning that it’s difficult to make adequate preparation.

 

Everyone in our group is self-motivated, eager to reach the summit.  We chat to a group of Belgian cyclists and take photographs at the sign marking the start of the climb – and wish each other “bonne montée” (climb it well !).

 

The early miles are not too steep, passing delightful countryside including vineyards, fields of different vegetables and the area’s speciality: cherries. Soon, the road is tree-lined, which will provide shade as the sun appears and the temperature soars. On the first day of the visit, we had resisted the lure of driving this route; we wanted our first experience of the slopes to be on our bikes, in the open air.

 

The first surprise appears in the forested section, as the gradient steepens sharply. The group steadily separates. Everyone finds their own pace and rhythm for the climb.  It’s Monday morning and there are few riders on the road.  We suffer in quiet isolation, with only the noise of the bicycle chain turning and our own heavy breathing.  Time matters little, the challenges are the steepness of the climb and the rising temperature.  Occasionally, birds sing around us, but we don’t see any of the region’s more exotic wildlife: eagles and vipers.

 

We all anticipate the ending of the forest section, where the road will open out to reveal the bare mountain top, with white rocks baked by the sunshine, giving Mont Ventoux its famous moonscape appearance.  The mountain top is covered in snow from November to April, yet from a distance, those white rocks, suggest that snow is always present.

 

Soon the trees are behind us and there are long, straight sections of road between the sharp, sometimes hairpin turns (virages).  It’s uncomfortable to see riders ahead who are struggling, knowing that it will take us five or ten minutes of sustained effort to reach that same height on the road.  The tall, black and yellow poles, positioned to signify the height of snow in Winter, are mesmerising.

 

We reach Chalet Reynard, a small café situated on the mountain side.  Strangely, there is a water tap located in a supporting wall nearby.  The cool mountain water is irresistible and fuels our next efforts.  There are still six more kilometres to the top of the mountain, each one becoming progressively steeper.

 

The rising temperature is debilitating, each turn of the pedals a strain. You try to find a lower gear to make pedalling the bike easier, but you’ve been in the lowest gear for some while already.  The struggle is a mental, as well as a physical one and you urge yourself on.  Fortunately, as the road swings left, we benefit from a cooling breeze in our faces.

 

Looking up the road, all you see is the bright blue sky. The view back down the mountain is stunning.  Turning right, there it is, the observatory marking the summit, a building which has the retro appearance of something like a space station tower.  We surge forward, realising that the summit is now within reach.

 

But it isn’t an easy reach.  The final section of the climb is very steep, which is cruel, given our tiredness.  We pass the stone memorial to the British cyclist Tom Simpson, once a World Champion, who died on that very spot, whilst striving vainly to gain the leader’s yellow jersey (maillot jaune) on a scorching hot July day in the 1967 Tour de France.

 

After about a kilometre, we hear the earlier finishers in our group shout encouragement to us from above.  Within another five minutes or so … we’ve done it, we’ve reached the top. There is relief, fatigue, elation… and cold. Vent means wind and it is cold on the summit.  Forewarned, we have brought jackets to wear, protecting us from the strong wind.  We look around, admiring nature’s stunning scenery to be found everywhere.  Yet, somehow out of place, there are tacky souvenir shops and stalls selling assortments of sweets and spicy sausages.

 

We drop off the summit and return to the memorial to Tom Simpson. As all cyclists must do, we pay homage to a genuinely iconic character of World cycling, take more photographs and leave cycling items at the side of his memorial.

 

The descent is fast and exciting and we ensure that we take the sharp turns carefully. We shout encouragement to cyclists struggling on the ascent, as others had done to us earlier in the day.  Back down in Bédoin, we visit the vibrant, crowded street market and find a café, where we sit with our favourite drink, resting in the sunshine and talking giddily about the day’s achievement in climbing the famous mountain of Provence. A few days later, we return to the mountain (in the van !), once more to admire the glorious views from the summit of the giant Mont Ventoux.