Mont Ventoux (Giant of Provence)

After a fantastic night in the beautiful fort town of Sisteron, we rolled out at 08:30. It was a lovely cool morning with a refreshing breeze and not too warm for a change. Today’s ride would take us 107km to Mont Ventoux via the Col de Homme Mort (translated as Dead Man’s mountain).

By this time we were all tired and worn, out and suffering from the odd saddle sore or ten, and were glad when David (our guide) set a nice steady pace up through the valley that we all found manageable and enjoyable. We steadily rode along the valley floor until we hit the first cafe stop of the day where I consumed a large hot chocolate, a lemonade and a Twix – yum!

We then rolled out to do the first small mountain of the day, not that I can remember what it was called as it was only a baby. By now it was starting to get back towards 30°c again, and becoming uncomfortable to ride on into. We then descended to the foot of the Col de Homme Mort. This was actually quite a pleasant climb, aided by a tail wind and a bottle of water poured over my head! Whilst riding up this climb we got our first look at the monster that is the Mont Ventoux. Wow, it was massive, maybe not as high as some of our previous mountains, but being in a fairly flat area it sticks out a full kilometre higher than anything around it. From the top of Homme Mort you can see the weather station at the top of the Ventoux – it looks tiny and a long way away.

We then descended down into the small town of Sault for a picnic lunch. Simon had laid on a brilliant table full of bread, cheese and meat to ready us for this final brutal assault on our physical and mental being.

Let me put Ventoux into context. It is hard… really hard. Very little tree cover, and very steep sections – plus the boiling heat at the bottom and the ‘mistral’ wind at the top to contend with. So hard is this climb it has claimed lives; most notably Tom Simpson in 1967 (his memorial is situated 1km from the summit).

So we set out from Sault to take on the monster. This side is easier than from Bedoin, where the professional riders come at it from, but it is longer at 28km. The two ways up meet 6km from the top at a cafe called Chalet Reynard. So here we go, 22km at between 3% and 8% followed by the final sections at 8%. Now it was hot, so hot it felt as though the Devil himself was branding the word ‘idiot’ into my back. Fortunately my friend Chris decided to ride up with me, as I was suffering from the heat and saddle sores to the point of quitting. It was his quote from Lance Armstrong that goes ‘pain is temporary, quitting is forever’ that got me up the first 22km. We pull up at Chalet Reynard for a cup of something and a quick chat before finishing the climb. By now the temperature had dropped due to the altitude, which was a blessing, but the wind was really strong. This wind is called the Mistral, and indeed it was at the Ventoux weather station that the highest wind speed in Europe was recorded (200mph; in fact, for over 240 days a year it is as high as 55mph!!) and today it was living up to its name. So we embark on the final 6km – me before the others, as if I do not go now it will not happen; I am that tired and sore. The great thing about this section is each kilometre is marked, telling you how long left and the average gradient. I push on, past the 5km to go marker, then the 4, then… no number 3km (it was stolen during the last tour visit, and has not been replaced), then 2km. At the 1km to go sign there is the memorial to Tom Simpson. I remove my hat and glasses, and bow my head in respect to the famous British cyclist. Then I look up; the road just ramps up for the last 500m – it is massive, and I feel all my fears about this climb boil up, giving me the adrenaline push I need to master this monster.

I round the final corner and arrive in the car park of the observatory at the summit, 1912m above sea level. The view is tremendous, miles and miles, right out to the Mediterranean sea, and up to central France; well worth the 3 hours of pain. I have my picture taken and we all agree to meet at Chalet Reynard on the descent. On the way down I take part in a cycling ritual, and leave two gifts at the Tom Simpson memorial, a plastic duck with the details of our ride on it, and my cotton cap I have been wearing all week with the Union Jack on it.

I put my helmet back on and descend to Chalet Reynard. The first 6km of descending is scary due to the wind, every corner is misjudged and every braking section wrong but I make it with no trouble, and having overtaken at least two camper vans on the way down. Arriving at the cafe we are talked through the descent to Bedoin by our guide David, who informs us that it is the best one of the week. We set off and wow 55-60mph on a bicycle! Long sweeping bends, tight hairpins and a great road surface make for the most breath taking descent of the week. We were going so fast even the motorbikes could not keep up, and I whizzed past them. We stop at the bottom and race towards Bedoin together. Now as we approach the sign, Chris says, “the sign is the line!” and we sprint like crazy for it. I get it, but only just – 50m more and Chris would have been all over it!!!

So that’s it – we trundle to the hotel and have a well earned rest after over 500km plus of pain and heat done. Sad but well needed! The hotel is great it has a pool and hammocks; just what the ailing rider needs to wind down. Whilst chilling out, a chap pops up his head and asks me about my book (Slaying the Badger) and announces that he was Greg Lemond’s soigner back in the Z team days; wow! Greg won the tour three times in the 1980′s and is a legend! He told us some interesting stories and offered us a massage (which, at 55 euros per 30 minutes, I declined!).

So we head down to dinner and chill out for a bit, aware we are travelling back to the car at 10pm.

Well that’s about it, just to say we had an epic journey home, the car never did overheat again, and we even managed an earlier ferry.

I would like to thank the following people -

Annalisa Powell – My long suffering ‘cycling widow’ wife for putting up with me and supporting me in all my sporting endeavours
Jack Powell – For being good for Mum
Damian Jones – A non cycling legend in the making, fantastic photography and great company (sorry I was a bit moody at the Izoard!!)
Chris Liptrot – My new friend, you are a legend and a saint, putting up with my endless cycling hypochondria and whinging and helping me through some tough days
The Frosties – For all the support in helping Annalisa and Jack put up with me
ASL Vision & Ian Saward – For the sponsorship and help in publishing this blog and making it all possible
Sponsors – For all you input and help
HDA.org – For your support and ideas
My family – For your encouragement and help