You can count on frustrated trophy hunters to continue their pursuit. Five years after I ran out of time to make the attempt on Mont Ventoux, I once again found myself in the south of France, and this time I wasn’t going to leave without bagging the peak.
Mountain passes are difficult to access, and from where we were staying (in Orange), it would take a train and a bus to get to Bédoin, the traditional Tour de France approach to Mont Ventoux, where you can find a number of rental bike operations catering to tourists like me. The Strava segment to the peak is called “l’ascension mythique par Bédoin”.
I got up pre-dawn to catch the first train, then got dropped off at the bottom of town by the regional bus, where I lucked into the largest, most charming street market I’ve ever seen. It snaked at least half a mile through the town, with crafts, clothes, food and more.
I found a perfect cafe where I had a lovely breakfast, enjoying the smells from the nearby spice vendor and listening to a street musician.
After renting a bike (more gravel than road bike, but I’ll ride anything), I got going on the climb.
Unlike L’Alpe D’Huez, Ventoux is hard riding even when you’re not racing. Averaged out, the whole climb from town is 8.3% grade, and after a flat section near the bottom, it’s pretty relentless.
Further, the top of the mountain is barren of trees and subject to brutal sun and howling winds. French philosopher Roland Barthes called Ventoux, “ le dieu du Mal, auquel il faut sacrifier“—an evil god to which sacrifices must be made. Eddy Merckx said of his fellow racers, “They’re all scared. Everybody’s afraid.”
I was in pretty good shape but I wasn’t strong enough to attack this mountain. I took it easy, enjoying that early flat spot and the vines and trees on the first half of the climb before I reached the limestone scree of the summit.
There were many riders on the mountain, most moving faster than me.
The top really is bleak, a barren, chalky landscape, glaringly white. I was fortunate that the winds were mild and the temps were in the low 70s, an unusually pleasant day on the mountain.
Part of the legend of Ventoux is that British pro Tom Simpson passed away on the climb in 1967, while using amphetamines to try to juice himself up the hill. There’s a memorial to Simpson which has become a shrine to cycling.
A push through the moonscape and I was at the top, a little woozy but mostly happy to have succeeded, and to be enjoying the remarkable views from the top. It took me 3:07, just 2:08 behind Tadej Pogačar’s Strava KOM.
Coming down the other side of the mountain, to Malaucene is longer and not as steep, with fun, swooping turns. No photos of that. Once you’re down out of the moonscape, it’s quite a pleasant ride through the French countryside back to Bédoin.
A beer back in town, a stop in a shop or two and I was ready to head back to Orange.
Daily musing: I’m so glad I decided in 2017 not to do Ventoux as a back-to-back century ride. Giving the mountain the space it deserves let me have a really enjoyable, experiential day. Which is why I ride bikes in the first place.
Those compelled to climb iconic mountains like Ventoux share an understanding. The reasons why one would choose to put in such efforts might not make sense to anyone who doesn’t get it. The people leaving offerings at Simpson’s memorial get it. Trophy hunting is of course connected to fear of mortality—how long will I be able to do a climb like this? For any of us, today could be the last time. Enjoy it while you can.