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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| '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.
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| At the top, again. |
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| 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.
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| 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).
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| Boom! |
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| Bubbles! |
We
hadn't broken any speed records, but it was another great day on the bike and a
thirtieth birthday to remember!
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!
