At Avignon came the first mechanical
and riding challenge for me. Bikes were
reassembled, and most of us then rode
the last 25 miles or so to Caromb whilst
the minibus we had arranged to hire was
driven by Russell and Ken to get the
luggage to the house we had rented.
Thanks to sage guidance from the
other guys my bike held together for the
first trip, which involved some stunning
local countryside, and a well-earned
refreshment stop at a local hostelry – it
seemed impolite not to join in with the
local culture.
On our arrival we found a stunning
house that Russell had organised with
almost everyone having their own rooms
in a vast, virtually medieval property (the
front door was well over 200 years old
apparently). More importantly the garage
had more than enough room for 12 bikes
plus a mechanics area.
Coincidentally the town had put on a
festival virtually outside our front door,
so thoughts of bed before 1.00 a.m.
were futile, still it was nice of them to lay
something on for us and it was actually a
very good show.
We then got to work with training rides,
getting the journey out of our legs and
winding ourselves up physically and
mentally. A 50 miles plus ride taking
in several hundred metres of climbing,
a stunning ride down the side of Les
Gorges de la Nesque and finishing into
a headwind gave us a real taste of what
was to come.
When the day arrived on 17th September
the weather forecast did not look great,
but this was the date we had chosen so
we decided that we would go for it.
Our back up vehicle arrived just after
breakfast and Rev Dodd gave us a few
tips, being familiar with the mountain
(it was rumoured that he had allegedly
been up a week or two before when
his daughter had taken some photos
of “Legs 11” written on the road in true
Tour de France style), and we set off.
The forecast was for cold weather so
we were actually geared up with more
clothes than any of us had expected,
and Malcolm had more in our bags in his
car so that we could put on more clothes
for the descent as the cold when coming
down at speed can be quite biting.
too lightly, it doesn’t seem as bad as
you feared, though it is still a noticeable
climb. Our group of 12 split into smaller
groups as we had anticipated, and
which is in fact better from a safety
perspective, as there is still traffic on the
roads – something that became more of
an issue later.
The first 15 kilometres (you think in
kilometres on the climb as of course
the count-down markers are marked in
them) take you up through trees. Passing
each distance marker is a real positive
spur as you know the end is coming
nearer, albeit slowly.
We all settled into a rate and a pace that
suited ourselves, which is crucial – it is
not something to do at someone else’s
pace. This meant some gaps opened up
between us, but we had expected this,
and mentally were ready for it. Riding in
groups is easier physically and mentally,
but we were all ready to do it alone if
needs be.
Ultimately I settled in to a rythmn with
two other guys, Colin and Gary, and we
plodded on steadily.
Once we had got past the tree-line
though the weather changed almost as
dramatically as the landscape.
For the last 6 kilometres there are no
trees, nor other vegetation. This has
all long since been stripped, and the
landscape is the classic “lunarscape”
that you see in the pictures featuring the
mountain. All you can see are rocks, a
steep road and some incredible views
across the countryside (whilst sensibly
ignoring the steep drops from the side of
the road in the near foreground).
As well as this stunning view you also
experience the weather. We knew it was
called the “windy mountain” but know we
really found out why. The wind speeds
we experienced were by no means the
record for the mountain but they were
beyond anything we had experienced
trying to cycle in. Colin and I had both
led hill-walking expeditions in various
parts of the UK and had not come
across anything quite like this. Ultimately
the wind became impossible to cycle
against. Between us we had to stop
several times to avoid being blown into
vehicles that were still driving past us on
the narrow road, and a couple of times
guys were either literally stopped in their
tracks so that they could not go forward,
or actually blown over.
Although our speedier group had already
made it to the top without a stop, for
some of us the conditions continued
to worsen and shortly after we had
passed the Tommy Simpson memorial
(which honours a former British World
Cycling Champion who had died on this
mountain during the Tour de France) and
with less than 500m to go the only way
those of us still on the road could get to
the top was to push the bikes.
So, we made it to the top – job done
– and we knew that we could have
finished it on the bikes given a less unfair
wind, but safety and physical possibility
intervened.
There was a real feeling of satisfaction
and achievement as we gathered round
bowls of onion soup in the cafe. Although
there was a nagging feeling about the
last 500 metres, we only had to think of
the fact that as we pushed the bikes off
the summit to the cafe they were almost
blown out of our grasp and were lifted up
like kites to realise we had conquered
the “Beast of Provence” despite what it
had thrown at us.
We did have another disappointment
though which was that at a temperature
of -2 degrees, and in a heavy mist, we
had not really hung around for a good
set of photos at the summit.
Therefore once were back in the luxury
of our accommodation a revised plan
The ride to the town of Bedoin at the
bottom of the climb we had chosen (the
“classic” Tour route was about 6 miles)
which was a good warm up, even with
a “before” photo-stop which provided
amusement for a busload of French
schoolchildren on their way to school.
Then we were off for real. The guides
warn that the start should not be taken
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