Avignon to Mont Ventoux
(continuation)

The first six kilometers after Bedoin were easy enough, barely exceeding 5% for most of the stretch; in fact, the first two kilometers felt barely uphill. The defining character of this side of the climb began at around kilometer 8, just after passing the (very) small town of St. Esteve. This point also provided one of the last opportunities to take in the panoramic view of the expansive valley to the south, before the road got gobbled up under the covering of pine, oak, maple and elm trees.

(Above: On the way up the southern side, the start of the steep stretch)

In fact, it’s because of this forest of trees that the climb had not been considered particularly scenic. True, the hillside vegetation was attractive, but the unchanging scenery it presented turned monotonous after a while. Some would argue that the question of scenery is a bit moot anyway because one spends most of the climb focused on the steepness of the road.

Indeed, the scenery was the least of my concern as I reached the start of a ridiculously long steep stretch of road that did not go below 9%; I found myself with my head down most of the time. And this steep section did go on forever—seven kilometers according to the Atlas des Cols (the middle section had per-kilometer gradients of 8.5%, 10%, 10.5%, 9.5%, 9.5%, 10%, 9%, 9%, then 8.5%). It was, along with the Tre Cime road and the Passo de Fedaia in the Dolomites from two weeks before, one the toughest stretch I’d ridden recently.

(Below: The steep road continues...)

After what seemed like forever, I reached the junction with the road from Sault and the road flattened to a more reasonable 7%. There was a tempting refreshment stop here, Le Chalet Reynard, just before a sweeping left turn and the final six-kilometer haul up the summit.

At this point, the road had emerged from under the canopy of trees and was now above treeline. As had often been reported, Ventoux’s upper slopes were defined by a bleak, barren landscape that appeared lunar. From here, one can clearly see the tall observatory mast at the summit. The summit looked so close that I at first doubted the signpost announcing that the summit was still six kilometers away.

(Above: About four kilometers from the summit, south side)

The climb soon settled into an undeviating pattern of right-angled left and right turns on the upper slopes of the mountain, each leg about 200-250 meters long. Though not nearly as steep as the middle stretch, the final kilometers were torturously difficult as the enervating effect of the long climb started to take its toll on me. This feeling was exacerbated by the summit observatory that was constantly in view but never seemed to get any closer.

(Above: The final run)

It wasn’t until I started hearing voices from above that I became convinced that the summit was just around the corner. Sure enough, following one final, tight, steep hairpin, I came upon a busy summit with quite a few cyclists (Dutch, predictably) milling about. There were also the predictably ubiquitous car tourists posing at the summit. Since much of Provence near Mt. Ventoux is flat, the view from the summit on this clear day was virtually unobstructed for 180 degrees on both sides.

(Below: From the summit, looking south)

(Above, L-R: A nougat/candy vendor wisely set up shop at the summit; summit gift shop)

I summitted in 101 minutes plus small change. By contrast, Vaughters won the time trial in just under 57 minutes, Lance Armstrong took about 60, and the straddlers came in about 20 minutes later. Considering I had ridden 46 kilometers to get to Bedoin, and that I wasn’t on dru..I meant that I wasn’t a pro, I was reasonably happy with my time. Fact was that the middle section was so steep for so long that I had very little power left after the gradient somewhat relented at Chalet Reynard.

As relieved as I was to have reached the summit, I couldn’t really relax as half of my task was still not accomplished. So, after a quick can of Coke, and a water refill, I put on my windbreaker (it was windy and a bit chilly near the summit) and headed down Ventoux’s north side.

I started humming Drive My Car from Side 1 of Rubber Soul for no particular reason, though perhaps as a sign that I was nervous and I needed to take pressure off the intense concentration required to descend the twisty upper sections of the northern side. I only noted this because I went on to hum the next track, Norwegian Wood, without having been aware of it. As soon as I realized this, I decided to go ahead with the rest of the album, which, hopefully, would take me all the way down to Malaucene.

I noticed that the French also have a tendency to sing (loudly I may add) as they descend. I recall a stage of the TDF some years back when a Frenchman broke away for some insane distance (like 180 kms) and he was shown on TV singing the Marseillaise as he drove towards the stage victory.

Knowing that I will soon be going up the road I was descending, I noted as much of the undulation of the road as I could remember, paying particular attention to where I thought the road was steepest. I noticed that the first 2 kilometers going down were very steep (bad news) with 3 tight hairpin turns, then eased somewhat until the Station du Mont Serein about 6 kilometers down, where the newly paved road was almost flat (but was 6% in reality). It again got steep until Belvedere, 11 kilometers down from the summit. From here, the road settled between 5-8% except for a couple of steep pitches near the base of the climb.

The odd juxtaposition between the facial expressions of those going up and those flying down the mountain was not lost on me as I met quite a few riders on my way down, none of them smiling, though all mustered energy to acknowledge me with forced smiles and a pained nod of the head, more out of courtesy than anything. I could relate. It’s a fact of cycling life that one loses the appetite to smile while grinding one’s way up a steep road. I understood.

After a quick refuelling stop at Malaucene, I turned around to suffer up the road that I had just enjoyed riding down. It was my turn again to present my pained expression to the riders coming down, some of whom I recognized as those going up earlier. They’re all smiles!

Like its twin road to the south, the northern approach hid the summit from view until higher up. Unlike its southern counterpart, however, very little of the northern road was covered with trees. At the lower sections, before the road got too steep, I managed to take in quite scenic views of valleys from opposite sides of the road. The other thing I noticed was that the northern side was better signposted, with kilometers-to-go and elevation information (helpful while the going stayed good, annoying as the climbing became more strenuous).

(Above: Just above Malaucene; the initial section of the climb to Ventoux
goes up these cliffs)

Last Updated: July 18, 1999