Mont Ventoux

BÉDOIN, FRANCE

I met two guys from West Chester, Pa. (near Philadelphia) in Bédoin, which is the little village before the base of the climb. We agreed to ride together until James and Brian decided that I (1) had already ridden too many climbs this trip, (2) was suffering from sleeping in the car last night and having no breakfast*, and (3) was much older than them. They had just arrived and were looking to follow the Tour de France. Too bad they didn’t wait for me because I had lots of useful tips. Philly fans.

Traffic circle outside Bédoin

So I started the climb on my own. It started raining part way up. Still, I was in short sleeves until I pulled on my vest with about 10km to go.

The lower wooded section is beautiful. Climbing higher I saw few riders but did pass one from Denmark. His wife was with him for support. She would pass, go ahead 200-300 meters, and then wait until he passed her. And then she would drive ahead.
 
Visibility near the top dropped to 10 meters. On the last turn to the summit, I was hit by 50 mph (80 kmh) winds which ripped my glasses right off my face. Goodbye glasses. The wind blew me across the road but I stayed upright, worried only about a descending car. Luckily there were none. It was empty up there.

Mont Ventoux

It was only about 50 meters more to the summit. I stayed at the summit no more than 2-3 minutes. I think severe hypothermia would probably set in by spending no more than an hour there. It was nasty on top. The temperature was probably 40 F (5 C) and the winds seemed to be sustained at about 50 mph.

I was content to take a picture of the summit sign but three women from Germany drove up as I was getting ready to leave and offered to take my picture. Thus I have photographic evidence of being there.

I was trying to lift my bike over my head but the winds were too strong

As I had climbed I had passed the memorial to Tom Simpson just a couple hundred meters from the top. I did not want to stop and lose momentum so I kept going. This memorial is to drugs, no? Tom was high on amphetamines and alcohol and pushed himself beyond the limit of his body and died on this mountain during the Tour de France. But yet, he’s a hero.

On the way down I stopped to take a photo. It seems like the thing to do is to donate a water bottle. I didn’t.

Barry at the Tom Simpson Memorial

A cyclist going up saw me taking a photo, stopped, and offered to take mine. He did and then I took his. I also gave him a push to help him clip in and get going again.

I thought he dressed like a turtle

Despite being dropped by my Philly friends, I was passed by four cyclists going up and I passed 17. On the descent, I was passed by no one and passed four more cyclists plus two cars. I was freezing on the descent (I did put on arm warmers), went through sleet then just pouring rain. I went as fast as I could safely go just to get down quickly.
 
Oh yea, Frenchmen must have a complex because they sure like to paint penises on the road quite a bit.

Tom Simpson Memorial

*I had made a reservation at a bed and breakfast near Mormion. There was no house number for a street address. Garmin got me close then had me go up a back alley that soon narrowed and wasn’t big enough for the car. I asked three different families who were walking and none seemed to no for sure where it was. Eventually, I found it, and took just my backpack to the door.

I used the door knocker. I heard a dog bark but that was it. They had a bell with a long rope. I pulled it repeatedly. No answer. I was scared. I was literally in a back alley.

I found my way to the main street and there was a pizza shop about to close with a couple sitting out front. I started talking to them and found out they were from England. He was kind enough to use his iPhone and call the place for me. Answering machine. He then sent an email. After 15 minutes the pizza shop closed and the owner went with me to the place. He too had no luck getting an answer.

I drove to the nearest major city, Carpentras. I found a Best Western that was about to close for the night (11:00p) and a sign on the door advertised they were full. I asked anyhow if they knew of other vacancies. The desk clerk told me that every hotel he knew was full since there was a festival in town.

I asked if he would be so kind as to let me log onto his WiFi and send my wife a message that I was OK since I hadn’t messaged her at all today. Of course, I was also scared to death but wouldn’t tell her that. He walked outside with me and secretly handed me a slip of paper with codes to the WiFi signal. He showed me the imaginary line where I would be outside of camera range because he would get in trouble if his boss saw him helping me. (True)

I thanked him, got my laptop as the rain started to fall lightly, then ducked in a protected area close enough but not able to be seen. I found the signal but could not connect. Damn shame.

I got in the car and started driving. I looked for “all lodging” on the GPS and it brought up campgrounds as well. I thought that might be an option. One was close and a bit secluded. I arrived and went through a security gate. I parked and explained my situation to a young man who quickly ran and got his sister because “her English is perfect.” It wasn’t, far from it compared to many people I met in France, but it was adequate. And it was 10 times better than my French. Her mother, the campground owner came over as well.

Campground

This campground was full. I offered to rent a site but they had none available. Then she asked if I had a tent. Well, no. All I was looking for was to park for the night and sleep in the car. Someplace safe from criminals and the police (in case it was somehow illegal).

They willingly agreed and offered me a blanket and pillow. And a shower. I declined all but the owner brought me a blanket anyhow. I’m glad she did.

Campground Owner in the morning

It wasn’t a relaxing sleep in the Fiat and morning came soon enough. I went to meet and thank the owners and this time there was a man there. I returned their blanket and couldn’t thank them enough.

He had fresh croissants delivered and I bought one for my breakfast then decided to drive to Bédoin rather than bike there because I was very unsure of the direction. Thus I had suffered from sleeping in the car last night and having no breakfast, save for a croissant, which is hardly the energy food for climbing such a mountain.


Going Back to France

WOODBRIDGE, VIRGINIA

It’s a cold and rainy day with temperatures in the high 40s (9 C). Not much better I can do than to plan my trip to France.

When I left France last year I always knew I would return someday – I just didn’t know it would be this year. Initially, I planned to return to Saint-Lary-Soulan in the Pyrenees and meet Adrian Register, who rode with us (our Trek Travel group) our first day last year.

As I am planning this trip it has become obvious that you cant’ get there from here. “There” being Saint-Lary and “here” being Toulouse. No public transportation so I will rent a car.

But the car will also free me to do more riding. Last year we rode the Col d’ Peyersourde and rode the brakes down the entire time, unable to see more than 50 meters in front of us, and not willing to go faster because of the cold and keeping in mind the roads were dangerously wet too.

Peyresourde on a nice day 
(Credit: www.cycling-challenge.com)

I don’t have any of my own pictures from the Peyresourde from last year other than the obligatory photo taken at the top of the peak.

 Peyresourde on a not-so-nice day

It was very cold descending and we could not determine whether the curves ahead were sweeping bends or hairpin killers. We rode slowly on the descent. I would love to ride the Peyresourde again, this time bombing the descent. But I’m not sure that I will.

Last year I was with a group which had an itinerary and always intersected with the Tour de France. This year I won’t be chasing the Tour and will have more time to focus on riding.

IMHO, there aren’t three more famous climbs in the Tour than the Tourmalet, Mont Ventoux, and Alpe d’Huez. Only once, in 1994, have all three been used in the same Tour.
And I will do all three.

Part of me wants to repeat each and every climb from last year but part of me says to keep those memories and create new ones on new climbs. And so I am planning Superbagnères instead of Pla d’Adet. A different approach over the Col d’Aspin. But the Tourmalet remains. And to the summit this year!

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