3 for 30: Club des Cinglés du Mont-Ventoux

Not wanting my twenties to draw to a close with a whimper or (as arguably a large portion of them had been spent) in a drunken haze I had decided that I would do something different to mark the occasion. It won't surprise you to know that it didn't take long for me to decide that this would involve some sort of cycling challenge.

The Club des Cinglés du Mont-Ventoux was created in 1988 to, and I quote, "show that every cyclist normally trained can climb in the same day on the Giant of Provence; by the three main roads, without too much hard work". To climb Ventoux, a mountain with a fierce reputation, three times in one day was certainly a worthy challenge – to suggest that it could be done without too much hard work was more than optimistic! 4443 meters of climbing in 136km was going to require at least some graft.

Three ascents. One for each decade. There was a nice symmetry there somehow. I had found my challenge.

Challenge found, the next task was to convince others that this was a worthwhile endeavor notwithstanding the lack of gerascophobia. Luckily the prospect of a weekend in Provence was enough to convince Paddy and Jared that it would be worth the trip.

Flights booked, registration fees paid and route cards at the ready we (along with our better halves) headed off to the small town of Callois where Paddy's girlfriend, Kate, had a gorgeous summer home. Quite apart from the cycling we had a weekend of great wine, food and company to look forward to.

The pad for the weekend...

Saturday saw us bask in the sun, eat well, but hold back on the drink as we prepared for an unconscionably early Sunday morning rise.

Uzes market - Olives everywhere...

To Ventoux

In my sleepy haze I couldn't tell whether it was my pre-sunrise alarm that woke me or the cracks of thunder and flashes of lightning outside my window. Where had yesterday's glorious sunshine gone?!

I had assumed that it was hammering it down outside also. I could hear the rain after all. To some degree of relief however, it was dry and the sound of water falling had just been the fountain in the courtyard.

We had loaded up the car with our bikes and kit the night before and after a strong coffee and some good porridge (Jared opting for some sort of weird concoction he had cultivated overnight) we were in the car and setting off for Bédoin and the base of Ventoux.

It wasn't long before we were driving, in the pitch black, through what can only really be described as an epic lightening storm. Visibility was as good as zero and, given the conditions, Paddy did well to keep the car on the road.

Visibility

There was a palpable sense of foreboding as we sat in silence in the car. This was beginning to feel less and less like a good idea.

Some level of relief was restored when, upon arriving in Bédoin, the rain had eased off and practically stopped. Perhaps it would hold for the whole day.

After the usual level of bike related faffing and a quick kit change in the car park's public toilets we cycled off to the first bar we could find (and that was open at that time of the morning) for the first of what we hoped would be a full set of 'control' stamps for the day.

And so it begins....

The first third of the day was about to begin.

From Bédoin to Maulecene

Of the three routes we would be taking up to the summit, it is the ascension starting in Bédoin that is considered the 'classic'. This is 22.7km long and averages 7.1%. On paper alone this is a challenge but as the profile shows, a gentle start means double-digit gradients await.

After a gentle start it soon starts living up to it's billing as the Giant of Provence

As we headed out of town the road began to rise gradually, more of an approach to the mountain than the climb itself. The road had yet to turn truly upwards before the rain had started again.

It wasn't long before it was torrential and as we cycled onwards, hoping it would abate and that we wouldn't need to add extra layers, we were receiving quizzical (horrified? pitying?) looks from passing motorists. One local slowed, rolled down his window and started talking to us in French – my French is broken at best, but it was clear that he was intimating that we were evidently crazy people. He drove off, occasionally glancing in his rear-view mirror as if to just check he had actually seen us.

I think it is fair to say that we were probably the only cyclists on the mountain at this stage!

Soon we had passed the small village of Saint Estève and had entered the shade of the oak and pine forest – and the toughest part of the climb. Whilst the we had hoped the tree canopies, that usually keep the heat in on a hot day (turning it into a furnace), would offer some protection from the rain, the rain only got heavier. Debris was all over the road, from broken branches to rubble and scree that had been washed down the side of the mountain.

The contrast to my last ascent in July couldn't have been more stark.

Eventually, we gave in to the inevitable and stopped to layer up as much as we could (and to compose ourselves).

No sooner were we back on the move again, than a full blown thunder and lightning storm rolled directly overhead. At this stage, our recently donned rain jackets doing little to prevent us from being soaked through and with the prospect of many more hours in the saddle we were already beginning to question our sanity. Why were we doing this? Were we here, on the side of a monster, for fun?

We continued to turn the peddles, slowly crawling up the mountainside. Silence, not a word spoken between the three of us, as we descended deeper into our own thoughts.

After what seemed to be an age, Chalet Reynard came into sight offering a (all too short) flat respite and the lure of shelter. We decided to take a brief pause to see if we could add more layers and take on some food. The restaurant wasn't open so we huddled under an awning as we chomped down some calories, rubbing the blood back into our extremities.

By now the storm was in full swing and as we pushed upwards into the moonscape we found ourselves above the lightning as it cracked below us.

Three abreast across the road, the lightning striking so close now, and our bodies so cold, that you could feel the warmth on the side of your face. A quite disconcerting feeling when you're so exposed on the mountain top, and on a metal bike no less! Paddy and Jared, I am sure, took some comfort from the fact that if we were in danger of being struck down, I was the most likely victim.

An artist impression

Finally, we passed the Simpson memorial and the cruelly inaccurate final 1km marker before rising out of the saddle at the final hairpin for the last steep incline to the observatory building and the summit.

The view from the top is impressive, I know this as I have seen it before. I question whether there was even one to see as we paused briefly; I am not sure I can remember even looking.

To add to our woes the shop at the very summit (our opportunity to get our route cards stamped) was closed, so, with no lack of reluctance, we ventured back down the few hundred meters to the mercifully open Brasserie le Vendran and took refuge inside.

The apocalyptic skies move temporarily away...

Absolutely soaked through and dripping everywhere, questioning what we were doing and (I am sure we all thought this internally) if we were even going to keep going, we stayed for what seemed like an age. Unsurprisingly, the suggestion of a second round of coffees/hot chocolates was meet with universal approval as we eked out every moment of warmth we could.

Finally we decided that we needed to move out and make an attempt at descending to Maulecene, the start point of our next ascent. After much wringing of gloves and hats, to little avail, we set off back up the final bit of the first ascent only a little warmer and dry than the first time.

I am not sure I can recall ever being as cold on a bike before (perhaps Wuling Peak?). As we carefully began our descent, in the interminable rain and with rivers flowing down the road, my body was shaking so violently that at times thought I would lose control of the bike.

Our descent...

I reached the small cafe a few kilometres down and stopped to wait for Paddy and Jared to make sure everyone was still upright.... Paddy arrived quickly, but Jared was a long way back and we began to worry. I even started to cycle back up and around the corner to see if I could see him. I have no idea what Jared had been doing but he rolled past me going the other way trying to force a smile. We were off again.

If I am honest I can't remember much more of the descent beyond simply wanting it to end. Selective memory perhaps. On arriving in Maulecene I don’t think I have ever seen someone look so unhappy/distressed as Mr. Hoy. Not a happy man.

From Maulecene to Sault

After having our cards stamped in the bike shop in Maulecene we made a relatively quick about turn and headed straight back up the descent we had just suffered down.

It was still raining, but at this stage it was beginning to ease off slightly and it was good to be climbing again, our bodies generating some heat. The uncontrollable shivering was beginning to disappear.

When questioned before the trip I had described this climb as 'easier than the Bédoin one' and I stand by that. It's perhaps just not quite as 'easier' as I had told the other two.

'Less relentless' - sort of....

The climb is much more varied, and whilst there are steep sections (in fact at many points steeper than the more traditional Bédoin climb) there are also periods of respite where the pitch of the road eases off just enough for you to recover before the leg presses began again. When I said 'easier', what I should have said perhaps was 'less relentless'.

Things were looking up though and it wasn't too long before the rain had stopped and the sun began its battle to break through the clouds. The trauma of the first ascent and descent were becoming (distant) memories.

As we climbed, it became clear that there was a very strong correlation between the 'less relentless' sections of the climb and Jared's need to stop for food and drink. I would be lying if I didn't admit that the brief pauses were a welcome opportunity to catch our breath and they, of course, afforded us the opportunity to learn a lot about some of Jared's more interesting views on nutritional strategies.

Soon the famous observatory building was back in sight and spurred on by the knowledge that our planned lunch stop was within our sodden grasps we pushed for the last few kilometres before hitting the top to clear(er) skies and even some sunshine. We took the opportunity to regroup and take in the views. Even pausing to take a few pictures.

At the top, again.

alt. 1911m

We had reached a key point in the day, in any day on the bike really, lunch. It was just a short descent back down to Chalet Raynard – food, warmth and a last chance to rest before the final third of the day.

Lunch at last!

From Chalet Raynard we branched left and took the road down to Sault. The descent was the longest of the day, meaning the last climb would also be the longest – but the road was shallow and smooth – it would, hopefully, be a nice final ascent that awaited us when we turned back at the bottom. For the first time in hours the sun was out and we were beginning to warm up and dry off.

Finally a small rise took us into the town of Sault and our last control stamp for the day.

From Sault to Bédoin

The longest of the ascents was also, mercifully at this stage of the day, the shallowest. There is even a section of almost 8km in the middle where it is as good as flat (1-3% gradient).

Big Ring-able!

We climbed together chatting as we took in typical Provence panoramas, made that much better for the sunshine they now found themselves in. There may have been fields of lavender, it certainly felt like there should have been.

On hitting the above mentioned 'flat' section, and repeating awesomeness last seenon the Stelvio, I pushed the chain up onto the big ring and shouted out "I am climbing Ventoux in the BIG RING" before stamping on the pedals for a few hundred meters, sitting back down, dropping the chain into the small ring and then weaving over the road as I caught my breath. Another HC mountain climbed in the big ring – it's all a bit too easy.

What Ventoux gives with one hand though, it takes away with the other and the 'flat' section soon came to an abrupt end as we hit Chalet Raynard again and the final 6km of climbing. The section of road where we had almost been fried earlier that morning.

By this stage there were more cyclists on the road (one assumed that they had sensibly waited until the morning's storm had passed) and Paddy and I caught one loaded up with kilos upon kilos of panniers and bags. I am sure there was a gas stove on there somewhere too.

Must. Overtake.

We engaged in conversation and learnt that he was cycling to Italy.... from Rotherham. I am sure he could have found a route that didn't require him to cycle up Venotux and then risk his life descending on a overloaded tank of a bike. Still he must have been doing something right as Jared never managed to catch him.

The final 500m...

Then, suddenly, we had reached the final summit of the day.

We stopped only briefly for a quick team photo, the visibility by this stage back to being zero. Then, not wanting to be caught out again by the weather we quickly remounted and started one final, fast, joyous descent.

Group hug!

We flew back past Chalet Raynard and entered the forest, much of the debris and mess now washed or swept away, daring ourselves to not touch the brakes as we gained speed and carved our way down the mountainside.

As we finally rolled into Bédoin, we took a moment to savor the day's achievements before diving back into the car as the more rain neatly book-ended the day.

To Callois

The car journey home after the ride is perhaps of little interest, other than to note we got lost. Several times. Circling some unknown and uninspiring French town for a good 15 to 30 minutes.

The day was rounded out back at Kate's with more great cooking, champagne, wine and a healthy dose of hyperbole as we recounted the day's events.

Boom!

Bubbles!

We hadn't broken any speed records, but it was another great day on the bike and a thirtieth birthday to remember!

Graduate number 5930 

TL;DR

We cycled up Ventoux three times for my thirtieth birthday. It rained quite a lot, but in the end we still had fun!

Hills of Hong Kong: Big Buddha

As the, long overdue, third part in the series looking at the Hills of Hong Kong, we return to Lantau Island for the climb to the "Big Buddha".

The Tian Tan Buddha, commonly known as the Big Buddha, is perhaps Lantau’s biggest tourist attraction. It was ‘the world's tallest outdoor bronze seated Buddha’ prior to 2007 (I am not sure which Buddha now holds this venerable title…) – impressive I hear you think, but it was only built/completed in 1993 and seems to have been erected chiefly with tourists in mind (the nearby Po Lin Monastery, a genuine ‘centre of Buddhism in Hong Kong’ was founded as far back as 1906), something that is confirmed by the nearby Disneyfied ‘village’ of Nong Ping 360 (more of a tacky retail and entertainment centre than a village).

Tourists are brought up to the Big Buddha from Tung Chung by the Ngong Ping Cable Car; the more adventurous cyclists start their climb to enlightenment under their own steam from Shek Pik reservoir.

Hello Buddha!

The Route

The majority of cyclist will have already tackled (and conquered?) the Beast before dropping down to Pui O Wan and heading west along South Lantau Road. South Lantau Road provides a welcome respite and some rolling terrain before arriving at the dam at Shek Pik Reservoir – the reservoir to your right and a view over Shek Pik Prison to your left.

There may be some difference in opinion as to when the real climb to the Big Buddha starts, but there is little argument that the road turns quickly upwards as you leave the reservoir behind and hit Keng Shan Road.

The climb totals 4.4km in length with an average gradient of 8.2%, but there are many changes in pitch along the way that flatter to deceive. The climb to the crest of Keng Shan Road is consistent, before a right turn towards Nong Ping offers some extreme pitches, a nice flat section and then a wall to the finish.

3km of steady climbing before a small rest and then a final push to the finish

The final section of the climb; 2km of contrasts.... flats and walls

The Climb

The climb to Big Buddha offers it all; some consistent (if steep) climbing, extreme pitches, a section of flat and a ‘wall’ to finish it off. It is a climb that can be brutal the first few times, but once you have tackled it and know what to expect it becomes less of a challenge.

The climb from Shek Pik to the crest of Keng Shan Road, after an initial gentle start, maintains a consistent gradient of 10-12% for 2kms+, enough to get the heart pumping and the legs burning. If that doesn’t raise the heart rate, the tight, steep corners with buses taking tourists to the Buddha whizzing (far too closely) past you will.

As you reach the crest of the initial section of the climb, instead of following the road as it drops down to Tai O a right turn takes you up towards Nong Ping and the Big Buddha – from here on the terrain is more varied.

The first 700 metres includes short pitches of 21% and 29%, which require periods out of the saddle, before levelling off completely for 800 metres of recovery time.

Water buffalo roaming around 

Having had the opportunity to take a rest, carefully cycling past Lantau’s feral cattle and water buffalo that often roam this section, the road straightens and reveals the last 800 metre ‘wall’ with gradients never dipping below 11% and for the majority of the time sitting comfortably at 18-21%. You can see the crest of the road stretched out in front of you, but every time you find the energy to raise your head it rarely seems to be getting any closer.

On hitting the top, you can see the Big Buddha ahead and freewheel the last 100 metres to the tourist circus surrounding him.

Dogs are circling me everywhere (out of shot...)

Summary

The climb to enlightenment may not be an easy one, but it is certainly rewarding. Heading up to the Big Buddha can at first seem daunting, and the unpredictable nature of the road can catch a few riders out, but once you have had Buddha in your sight a few times the climb becomes more predictable and allows you measure your efforts.

There are some brutal gradients and some more forgiving ones, making the climb a perfect opportunity to test your climbing skills on varying terrain.

Its Strava leaderboard can be found here.

Tour de Force 2013 (Tour Taster 8)

So what have we actually got ourselves in for?! JK and myself will be taking on Tour Taster 8, which takes in stages 15 to 21 of the Tour.

Outside the full thing, this Tour Taster is definitely the most ambitious and provides a chance to ride one of the most exciting combinations of mountain stages that the Tour has put together for quite a few years. The Tour (for real) is very likely to be decided across these stages, with the course designed to keep the audience on the edge of their seats until the final mountain-top finish above Annecy. Whilst I would love to be able to do the whole thing again, this is definitely a good second choice.

In terms of what we can expect (and borrowing heavily from Phil’s fab write-up), we will be jumping right in at the deep-end. Whilst the first stage of our trip, stage 15, will begin with a flat run down the Rhone valley it is both the longest stage of the entire tour (at 242km) and ends with a pretty dramatic change in terrain! We will hit the bottom of one of the most iconic and feared climbs in the Tours history with 230 kms already in the legs! Mt Ventoux is a mountain that I have never climbed before.... this ascent will, hopefully, be the first of four in 2013 (details of the other three planned ascents is worthy of a separate post in the future).

Flat, flat, flat......UP!

Mercifully, there is a rest day the next day.

For stage 16 we will head towards the high mountains for what should not be a too taxing stage in itself and (beyond a gentle pedal on the rest day) will hopefully be a useful stage to get the legs back into gear. I have cycled through this part of France before and the scenery in this part of Haute Provence, and the towns and villages we will pass through, is just superb. I suspect it will be a bumpy ride rather than entirely flat.

It seems that stage 17 has been called “hardest time trial course ever in the Tour”. The fact that it is a time trail and is only 32km is actually pretty good news - we will be able to have a bit of a later rise and will be able to ride the course at a sensible pace, admire the views over Lake Serre-Poncon, and enjoy a satisfying ride along a great route. It certainly won’t be a race against the clock.

Stage 18 is the start of a trilogy of mountain stages that is the main talking point of this year’s Tour (and is where Pt and Janice will be joining us for the rest of the way to Paris). From Gap we head straight into the Col de Mense climb (I have been over this climb before and a certain QuickStep Rick reenacted the infamous Beloki/Armstrong incident) before joining the first of two steady, long climbs: the first along the Route de Napoleon to Lake Sautet. Just before the town of La Mure we will begin the second climb, on a quieter road, up to the Col d’Ornon (again a climb that I have been over before, albeit in reverse. Having been over the ‘steady’ climbs we then have the legendary Alpe d’Huez crest…twice! This Alpe Double is quite an exceptional event and with the a dramatic descent on the tiny Col de Sarenne road (which hopefully has been paved a bit better since I last went down it) behind the Alpe, the last part of this ride is going to be pretty epic!

The Alpe x 2..... Epic!

Stage 19 is arguably the Queen Stage of the Tour, tackling the Glandon and the Madeleine from their hardest sides (I have been up the ‘easy’ side of both and they was sufficiently long and hard…); the shorter but steep Col d’Epine and finally the harsh Col de Croix-Fry, where it can be so hot in the afternoon, all make for a stage of truly epic proportions!

More mountains....

Stage 20 will complete the trilogy, and has been chosen for the Etape du Tour – as whilst it is short it provides its value in metres-vertical per kilometre-horizontal. The route, that includes a stunning climb through the Mont Revard massif, ends with what I am told is one of the best climbs in the area.

The final hurdle(s)...

We will then be transferred to Paris to meet up with Vicky, Nic and Caroline and for stage 21 and a ride that will take in Versailles and bring us to the Eiffel Tower late afternoon. Plenty of time to celebrate and get ready for the Bastille Day fireworks!! Paris on Bastille Day should be busyawesome!