Ventoux

It is always a relief to get to your destination with a full complement of luggage, and so it was with some relief that we left Marseilles airport with 6 bikes and all our bags loaded into the van, albeit after quite a lot of waiting around collecting cars and loading up equipment. For reference the Renault Traffic (Group N) van we rented from Avis quite comfortably accommodated 6 bikes, either in bike boxes or with the front wheels removed once they were built up, as well as a few bags, or all 6 of us plus bikes once we had the bags stowed away in whatever accommodation we were using.

We had a brief celebratory swim on a pebbly beach outside the city to stretch out after the flight, found lunch, and set off to locate the Giant of Provence.

First Day

I have only ever watched the Tour in the Pyrenees and on the Central Massif before, and the event in the Alps is without doubt an order of magnitude bigger than what one experiences further to the south. Having built our bikes the evening before we ate an early breakfast and tried to leave promptly. Our early departure was promptly derailed by yours truly - having fitted new cleats just before we left I discovered to my horror that Look have now released 2 very similar looking but completely incompatible versions of their Keo cleat, a fact that my LBS had failed to mention. This is one of those lessons one is unfortunately forced to relearn - that there is no substitute for testing your gear before departure. Also it seems that everyone owning these cleats is obliged to buy themselves a set of the incompatible model before they become aware of the design change. Thankfully someone had packed spares, and with these fitted we were able to get going by around 9am.

Our route required a 38km haul out to Bedoin - the recognised base of the Ventoux climb at 290m above sea level (although G-Spot did point out that we did quite a bit of climbing to get to the base), and after a little bit of route confusion we got ourselves into Bedoin around 11am. We stocked up on what lunch we could (the local stores being heavily depleted by the mass of people who had got there in better time than we had), and started the 23km climb with little more than 2 hours available to us to make the summit.

Ventoux gives you quite a sense of progress as you climb. you start in open fields, then move into the forested lower slopes of the mountain as you get into the km marker teens, and finally break through the tree line as you get into the single digit milestones. The summit is immediately recognisable - the distinctive square telecomms tower marking the top. As our climb progressed so the crowds built and the gendarmes became less tolerant of anyone coming past them until with about 6km to go to the top we followed a pair of cyclists - one in a speedo and one in a morph suit - around a particularly busy roadblock and found ourselves on largely open roads to the top. We were eventually pulled off with 800m to go at 1.50pm, with the rest of our party ejected about a km further down the climb at around the same time. Close enough to summit on foot (thankfully) as we needed to get over the top and onto the descent on towards Malaucene for our planned exit.

The days work was eventually done reaching Mornas just after 7pm with 150km behind us and dinner waiting at the hotel.

We had picked out our own lantern rouge for the touring group - l' Polpe, a large and noisy handlebar-mounted purple rubber octopus, which we awarded with great glee to Sugar after repeatedly surging off the front on the days ride, convinced that while he had finished at the front of the group, his performance would almost certainly guarantee that he would be off the back tomorrow. While intended as a floating trophy Sugs instead developed an immediate attachment to his new passenger, abusing the squeaky toy incessantly - usually to either frighten or amuse pedestrians - and refusing to give it back in a stubborn and very Scottish manner.


 I'm not sure what sticks out as the greater achievement here. the climb was truly remarkable, the grandstand seats we had reached on the rocky slopes around the finish were particularly sweet, and the 30km descent on closed roads down the back of the climb would bring a grin to any cyclists face, not least that we rode the early stages of the descent with the pros shooting past us on the way to their waiting buses further down the pass. You have to be dropped by one of these guys to truly appreciate their skill on getting down these passes. In my case by Tony Martin.

Froome on his way to a win on Ventoux