30 | Cycling World
MAD FOR
BALD MOUNTAIN :
Ventoux
by Iain Marshall
I
' m one of those cyclists fortunate enough to have a photo of myself with a large metal pole ' growing ' directly out of the top of my head . I say this is lucky because the signpost in question is the summit marker for Mont Ventoux in Provence . It means I have had the privilege of climbing this - I hesitate to use the phrase - ' iconic ' mountain , but I will .
The arguably over-used adjective actually fits the bill in this case . The Giant of Provence is one of those legendary Tour de France locations worthy of mention in the same trembling breath as , ' Alpe d ' Huez , the Tourmalet , the Galibier , the Aubisque and the Izoard ' – to name just some of the most celebrated and feared .
It ' s a brute to climb , " a God of evil " according to cycling fan and French philosopher , Roland Barthes . And it ’ s making its sixteenth 1912 metre appearance in the 2016 Grand Boucle .
Armstrong and Pantani famously battled it out on the ' bald mountain ' in 2000 . Sir Bradley Wiggins revelled in his new-found climbing form on the Ventoux ' s bleached slopes in 2009 - with the yet-to-be disgraced Texan again in attendance . Another British great , Tom Simpson , met with a tragic end on the road to the summit . In 1967 he finally tumbled off his bike while fighting to stay in contention in that year ' s Tour . Simpson died on the hot dusty mountainside of extreme exhaustion and dehydration . He also had amphetamines and alcohol in his system .
Anyone who ' s been to Ventoux , or has merely taken a passing interest in it , will know about the Tom Simpson memorial , perched by the roadside with the summit tantalisingly close . Many stop to walk up the steps to the granite stone and leave all sorts of cycling momentos in tribute to the fallen rider . These range from cycling caps to water bottles , to photographs and inner tubes .
My brush with Mont Ventoux , whose treeless , upper reaches , look perpetually covered in snow by virtue of the stark white rocks scattered around , was quite literally inspired by a moment of madness . I had long held the ambition to pedal up the mountain via all three possible routes in a single day . Achieving this feat grants riders entry into the select Club des Cinglés du Mont-Ventoux ( Club of the Madmen / women of Ventoux ).
The day we arrived in Provence , the dreaded mistral wind was threatening to uproot trees , vines and even the very farm buildings surrounding our rented gite on the edge of Mazan . The severe weather did not bode well for my attempt to join the Ventoux ' s very own ' crazy gang ' the next day . But rescheduling was not an option because I ' d pre-booked a rental bike for the specific day of my ride . Many people think the ' vent ' in Ventoux is a reference to the wind . However , some also believe the name is actually an ancient term which means snowy peak . And according to a Rapha cc blog the Gauls named it Vintur after a god thought to reside on the summit . Whatever the true definition the ferocious wind which can disdainfully toss a rider off his or her bike and hurl them down the slope is very real . The weather on the mountain can swing from searing heat to freezing cold in just a few moments . It is not for the faint hearted .
To prove you have completed the punishing Cinglés task you must get a brevet card stamped at each of the three starting points , Bédoin , Sault and Malaucène - and at the summit . Most shops in the three towns have stamps with which they will oblige . Even the pizza joint I had lunch in in Bédoin after my first ascent of the day was able to mark my card .
If you ’ re going to conquer the mythical beast three times , an early start is essential . And , as dragonslaying is such hungry work , I fortified myself , lingeringly , with a croissantheavy breakfast in Malaucène . That was mistake number one .
When I could put off the inevitable no longer I wheeled my rented Cervello S2 out of Ventoux Bikes and started heading up the daunting D974 . Immediately conscious of how much lighter the S2 was compared to my aluminiumframed bicycles at home , I made decent progress at first - trying to stay in the big ring for as long as possible . This didn ' t last . But once in the small ring , I vowed to avoid hitting the ' granny gear ' until absolutely necessary . This resolve too petered out after about two hundred metres .
The regular , road-side markers were useful not least because they gave the gradient you were fighting at that particular point . I soon realised that 7 % wasn ' t so bad but anything above that and my thighs started overheating .
With some surprise I found myself on top of Ventoux for the first time - relatively unscathed . I got my brevet card stamped in the gift shop after buying an over-priced Mont Ventoux souvenir pen . I persuaded a perspiring , thickset Dutch cyclist who ' d just ridden up from Sault to take my picture in front of the 1912 metres sign . He got it spot on with the pole shooting upwards out of the middle of my cranium ." Are you doing more ?" I asked him . " No way ," he grunted with a wan smile . " I died three times on the way up ."