Les Cinglés du Ventoux - my version of events...
Like several club members Martin Anscombe tried his chances with the Cinglés ride on the three routes to the top of Mont Ventoux.
...it's pronounced Sanglay du Ventoux and means Madmen of the Ventoux. Makes perfect sense.
I'm not the first and I'm sure I won't be the last. Here's a blinkin' long version of a day messing about in Provence. I apologise for the length, but I wanted to write everything down, in detail, before I forgot. And to share the fun and games!
My missus Donna very kindly booked a cheeky week in Provence, based around Avignon, Aix and Arles in late August. It seemed only right to have a go. Well, it was six weeks or so away, plenty of time to prep? Couldn't be that hard surely?
As it was supposed to be a train/hire car/hotel/walking/wine tasting holiday, taking my bike wasn't an option. Eurostar out of St Pancras, grey and London like. TGV into Avignon, bright and warm sunshine a few hours later. Fantastic way to travel. Highly recommend it. About an hour out of Avignon, Ventoux looms into view. I gather it's about 30 miles from the train line. You can't miss it. It's big and it's beige and very bald. Gets one focussed early on. It never really disappears from view.
We had a night in Avignon, and collected the car the following day. Ventoux had disappeared briefly, but we headed up to our next hotel in St Colombe, La Garance. Cracking, cheap hotel situated on the soon to be infamous D974. Ventoux was back in view again.
The first climb heads up from Bésdoin, and passes La Garance 2/3 k's later. I was feeling slightly apprehensive, but not too concerned. Ignorance is definitely bliss. Jamie Wasley had also booked a couple of weeks away and had persuaded his wife Sam that having a go at Les Cinglés was a fine idea. We arranged to meet on Monday evening for a pre-ride carbo load. Here's one of the positives about these long rides. I don't really do the scientific thing, so shovelling (or at least an excuse to shovel) as much food as possible in, during the 24 hrs or so, leading up to a long ride, is great. I'd been watching my intake and lost a few kg's during the weeks leading up, so it was good to loosen my belt, as it were. It was less painful than I'd imagined to drop a few kg's, cut out the alcohol and it does drip away. I could never expect to be sylph like, but I guessed the less I carry up, the better. Meeting up, was also good for the gals to meet one another. It would be good if they could hang out, during me and Jamie's and day of fun and games. Dinner was good. Pizza, crepes and no alcohol (how did that happen?) Talk naturally veered towards some sort of plan of attack. Ha! Plan of attack? Plan of crawling slowly, more like. We'd discussed how much food and drink to carry. And other stuff. Jamie was going to take his iPod, in case I blabbered on too much. Arm warmers, gilet, tube, tools etc etc. One other thing to ponder is which order to do the 3 routes in. Jamie had an idea to do Bésdoin (generally regarded as the hardest), Sault (the 'easiest') and Malaucene (almost as hard as Bésdoin) last.
When I collected my hire bike from La Route du Ventou it was 40 euros to hire a Trek Madone 4.5 carbon fibre steed from 2010. Included was a saddle bag with tube and tool. Also a pump, pedals and even a helmet. I declined on the helmet. Yes, I'm sure there will be certain quarters who consider Trek beneath them. As far as I'm concerned, it was a distinct improvement on my trusty Trek back in the UK! For me, this all worked well as I didn't want to be dragging a bike around. For the purpose of the exercise, this all fitted well. Also, good practical advice from Jean-Michel and he said definitely, Bésdoin, Malaucene, Sault. Decision made then.
But, just as when you take your broken car into the garage, much scratching of chins and sucking in of air, through the teeth. Windy up there, they said. Temperature will be between 5-8 degs c. at the summit, they added. Not a good day today with something resembling concern, and a Gallic twist. Forecast is more wind than today, was the prophecy. Monday 30th of August 2010, in the Bésdoin area, was blustery. It was very hard to predict anything. And we'd decided that Tuesday was the day. We just have to get on with it. I'm absolutely convinced that Jean-Michel and his mate thought it was beyond us. Now, I think it's right to put in that I don't think I ever doubted that I'd do it. I had as much faith in Jamie too. How long and what effect it was to have on me were my concerns. I didn't want to spend all day knocking myself out and for it to impact on the next few days of my holiday. Stumble blindly on then....!
The morning of the 31st of August came and it was glorious. It's not strictly the Cote d'Azur, but the beautiful azure sky was more than welcome. It wasn't nearly as warm as it had been. There was little wind to bear in mind. Being 21 k's from the summit, was going to be quite different from the warmth of the valley that we were in. We met at the bike shop at the bottom of the hill in Bésdoin. Jamie had been there a short while making a few last minute adjustments and buying arm warmers. I hadn't eaten much. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was nervous. Last couple of checks and a brief chat with the chap who was also in the car park. He was from Canada and he said that he'd sent his mate off, as he 'wasn't really a cyclist'. I didn't really understand his plan, but both Jamie and I chuckled at this lunacy. 0845, we shook hands, wished each other luck and we were off. I only have a HR monitor and was slightly alarmed to see my HR hit 144 almost immediately. That's almost 80% of my max. Hmmmmm......again, I'm not too scientific, but didn't think having only 20% left was enough. Given that the gradient was 4.5 - 5%, it was a little snack for thought. Carry on stumbling blindly then!
We passed La Garance, and I was slightly disappointed to see that my missus wasn't there snapping away. Never mind, she'd wandered up the hill a couple of hundred metres, for a better view and was snapping away furiously. After all of this nonsense on the following day, Donna told me that she really enjoyed sitting there for a half hour or so. Warm sunshine, a great view back down the hill and the chance to say (wish?) 'chapeau' to the many cyclists passing by. She also said that Jamie and I looked good in comparison to many others who were sweating and dragging themselves up - flat bars, knobbly tyres, panniers, backpacks even children in buggies.....! I'd read that many cyclists push too hard during the 1st half hour or so, so was very concious (as was Jamie) to cycle within myself. I was eating and drinking steadily and felt good. Jamie and I were gabbing consistently. Mainly talking s**t, but certainly passing the time. The 1st reminder of what was going on, came shortly after. I'd seen this chap behind us, plugging away steadily. He passed us during the beginning of the infamous forest. He must have been 60! Great! Kick in the ego, just what I needed. Stay within yourself pillock, there's a long way to go. By this time, the weather was warmer and the gradient steeper, some 9% or so. There are regular road signs or 'tombstones' that say how steep and how far is left. Both good and bad news at the same time! When I say people 'pass', it's really comical as it all looks like it's in slow motion. Me going at 11 kph, him at 11.3 kph!
Jamie was obviously feeling good, so I said he should go ahead. He gallantly said that we were a team, and hung around. Soon after, I insisted and he was off into the distance. Well, off being a relative term, perhaps 12 kph....no big deal, I could guess the route.......I looked ahead and saw this chap seemingly, going so slowly, that he appeared to fall off. Not a great sign. Training shoes, and baggy shorts and maple leaf on his shirt. That'll be the other half of the Canadian comedic duo then? Half way up, he was in for a long day. At almost the same time, I caught the old chap who'd passed me not so long before. Merckx bike and Merckx kit, very tidy. I asked if he was Belgian (wild stab in the dark in my pigeon French). He replied yes. He was called Joseph and it turns out he was returning to Ventoux, having completed it 25 years before and having had a back operation in the meantime. Or at least that is what I ascertained, possibly! Definite unfinished business. Odd bunch us cyclists are! His pigeon English and my pigeon French were a welcome moment of relief and comedy.
I could still see Jamie, intermittently. His KW jersey shining like a beacon. Well, I think it was him. I was clear of the forest and it was a stern test passed. My HR peaked every now and then but didn't really go above 160 or so, so I guessed I was ok. 20 beats or so from max, plenty! The top of Ventoux carried on looming. The gradient eased and the wind picked up. Rounding the mountain corners, I'd be buffeted, head on, then given a good push on the following corner. Motivation to get some speed and move my legs. The infamous Chalet Reynard was next up. Having read a lot about the various ascents (thanks Damien Breen and Beaumont, among others!) this was a great point to be at - not too far from the top. In distance terms it's about 6k. In time and energy, it seemed like bloody ages. In and out of those winding corners, the summit not arriving any faster! I wondered where Jamie was.
The next marker was to be the Tom Simpson memorial. I was ticking things off in my head and just kept a rhythm. Up ahead I saw a photographer. There was no on else on the road, what was he doing taking pictures of me? An easy target? A very odd place for photography practice? He was obviously bloody freezing, why didn't he go down a bit lower? Weirdo. As I rode past, he clicked away, I attempted a smile and he jumped up and came towards me. I didn't react as I wasn't entirely sure what was going on. He deftly stuffed a card in my jersey back pocket. Ah, you want to sell me pictures of my suffering? Gee, thanks! I garbled out a 'merci', which I imagine sounded more like 'hurssey'. Plugging on I soon passed the Tom Simpson memorial. I will freely admit to being a little bit emotional there.
It's a big thing for a mere average club cyclist to be 'up there'. Passing that memorial was a sobering reminder of many things, good and bad. I metaphorically doffed my cap and asked for a push from Tommy. Passing also meant that I was within a k of the top. Long k that last one is! The push never came but I rounded that last, very steep corner and met up with Jamie. He was already shivering. It was almost an anti climax to get 1 under my belt, but the 1st one was in the proverbial bag. The wind was howling around nicely. Jamie stuffed a can of coke and a Snickers in my hand that I gladly scoffed. Turns out Jamie was about 5 minutes ahead of me. We were both ok and once I'd had my card stamped, we were off.
The beginning of the descent down into Malaucene scared the crap out of me. It's not very well used in races, or so I believe. And you hit this ramp which is much the same gradient of the way up. You know the bit where the cameras always sit looking out over the mountain. Acceleration is fantastic. Jamie was off. I could see him and his red gilet zipping down the mountain. I couldn't quite let go of my brakes. The sheer drop down into the valley, to my right hand side, giving me a mental block. I was pretty scared. I kept trying to convince myself that I wouldn't be doing this again in a hurry, so I had to let go and get on with it. No dice. I did my best to get down relatively quickly. I passed quite a few people which is always good. Even a couple of cars. That'll do me.
We rolled into Malaucene and stopped right on the edge near a cafe. They were happy to give us a stamp - I'm sure the lady behind the counter called it a 'tampon'. Oh, the school boy in me laughed. Inwardly of course. Perhaps it was 'timbre?' A quick coffee and biscuit later, we were off. The climb is immediate, you get 4/5% for a couple of k's then 9 and not much less for 4/5 k's. It was getting warmer and harder. We passed a German lady whom I managed to insult not knowingly, honest! We were both impressed that she and her partner were chugging up on bikes that resembled Pashleys. Very upright and interestingly geared. I copied the chugging, Jamie found some legs and started pulling away. I settled in to whatever rhythm I could. Slow and labourious was the order of this climb.
Here starts the debate as to which is the hardest. Right then, it was this one. It seemed incredibly hot and there was not a lot I could do to cool down. My HR was up to 160+ and wouldn't settle down although my speed was poor at 10kph or less. The gradient was really punishing me. All I could think about was getting to the top. All I could do was the mental maths - 10kph, 14 k to go, 1 hr 15? 1 hr 20? I couldn't even do the simple sums to occupy my mind. Food, drink? Not much use. Legs? Not much use. What next? Any respite? No, none at all. The tombstones were not welcome. I didn't need to know that it was 13 k to the top. I kept forgetting what number I'd seen previously and was disappointed when I arrived at one saying 10 k to go, when I thought it was 9, or 8. My mind playing little tricks to demoralise me just a bit (more). I thought that a 3rd ascent (no matter how 'easy') would be in jeopardy. I remember a couple (or was it 4 people?) who clapped as I struggled by. That did spur me on, just a bit. I also met a chap standing by the road, with his wife who, in French, asked me how I felt, was it the weather, the gradient or something else I couldn't understand. Or perhaps he asked other things, who knows? Either way, it was fairly obvious I was grovelling and didn't really need to chat. I grunted that I was old and carried on my grovel.
By now, I was feeling nauseous and my legs were moaning. My hips were aching and even my shoulders were groaning. I was very close to chucking up and chucking the towel in. So very close. I tried to make a vague note of my 'speed' and it was either 5.6 or 6.5 kph. I didn't think it could get any worse. Luckily, it didn't and the gradient gave in a for a few k's. I was about 4 k from the top by this time and was getting concerned that Jamie and the gals would be waiting. A good excuse to stop and fire off a text. I thought to myself that I'd have a breather and take some pictures at least! No signal. Ho hum. Even leaning on the bike, my legs were like jelly. It was comical trying to get started with legs made of trifle and a 9% gradient. I weaved and bizarrely thought of any oncoming traffic. Or any traffic from behind. Or anyone anywhere. What was I thinking? No one is daft enough to travel up a mountain like Ventoux, are they? Would it really take another 30 minutes to get to the top? I bloody hope not. I cracked on and somehow found some legs.
The last couple of k's were relatively painless. I even managed a meagre sprint up the final 50 metres or so. Donna was there taking pictures. I was certainly knackered and it showed. I collapsed in a heap. I was so glad to see Donna, Jamie and Sam. The gals had brought loads of food and drink. We ate like (very tired) kings. The sun even shone and it didn't seem at all windy. Photos taken, luck wished and off we went. Almost happy! Rolling down a 26 k descent was a good thing to be doing at this stage. Jamie was off like a ferret down some hooky northern rabbit hole. I kept an eye on his red gilet. He waited at Chalet Reynard - I'm a bit thick but it was obvious which route to take. It flattened out significantly which gave us good hope as we'd be turning around and heading back up shortly.
Sault is actually up a short climb which also was good as we needed to get our legs moving a little more. Stamped accordingly by the nice chap in the tourist office, and we were off. He added that he'd seen perhaps 10 others attempting the Cinglés. What, more nutters? You're kidding me? Downhill from Sault was a good start! It then moves up gently at 3-5% for about 20 k's. Even flattening to 1%, which is great as you can even get some speed up, perhaps 20 kph! In the valley just out from Sault, the temperature was hovering around 30 degs C, warm and sweaty we were. The conversation soon turned to our respective bodies falling apart. Jamie getting cramp and hot foot. Me and me bad back, shoulders and knees. We sounded like a couple of old grandfather clocks, ticking away. It was around this time that I realised that I was actually handily equipped with a triple! I remember looking down when I picked it up and failed miserably to notice. I did (briefly) think at that time that I was slightly insulted that Jean Michel had assumed that I'd need a triple! The cheek! Jamie quickly said that I wasn't allowed to use it. I foolishly agreed. It made sense given that my knees were f**ked and quite painful having been well and truly ground away, all day. What a fool.
There was a small sense of foreboding as we knew that once we'd rounded the corner by Chalet Reynard, it was uphill again. Sure enough there it was. But just before, we saw the nice German lady and her fella. A cheery wave and a quick discussion of how long it must have taken them to get up from Malaucene, 3.5 hrs? Maybe 4. Mad determination for sure. That last 6 k is tough. The final 3 k goes up at 7, 8, and 9% respectively, lovely. And you can see the top, seemingly not getting closer at all. Bizarrely, I found some legs and started inching away from Jamie. I found myself wondering how and why this happens. 2 hrs before I was shot to pieces. Funny things these human bodies. Amazingly resilient though. There wasn't much said as we crawled up to the top for the last time. A nod and a wave to Tommy. I heard Jamie say something behind me. Couple of sentimental old fools we are. Although we weren't racing, and although I reached the top '1st' on the last time up, Jamie is welcome to the polka dot jersey. Well deserved on all of the rest of the days performances, he 'won' hands down. We had both finally made it to the top of Mont Ventoux. 3 times in 1 day. We had a bit of food, collected the obligatory last stamp and prepared for the descent. I thanked the lady in the gift shop for the last time and said this was the last time. 'Until the next time' she said with a grin. Really, thought I? Not so much. There was this chap with his wife and child who came over for a chat. He smiled and said that he'd ridden up earlier in the day. I congratulated him and explained the Nutters club. Much mutual respect abounded. It was time to go.
Jamie and I rolled off for a final descent. Jamie shot off and I kept an eye on his red gilet. I don't know why, I actually wanted to enjoy this one, after all, it wasn't going to happen again soon, was it? I let out a roar at the top, more out of relief than anything else. If anyone saw or heard, they probably would have thought that there's a Madman there. Quite right too. The descent was bliss. Knowing the job was done. Knowing we'd hung in there. Knowing there would be beer very soon. All good. I even managed to get out of the saddle and pedal hard on a few bits, finally getting more confidence although not quite topping 50 mph. I don't know why as I'm fat enough, must be crap aerodynamics. I was staring hard and trying to remember as much as possible. Whilst trying to nail the best lines, pass other cyclists and cars. I tried to nod and shout encouragement to cyclists (still) grovelling up - 530 pm ish and they're just heading up? The descent was a great way to spend half an hour or so. The gals and Jamie were in the carpark and congratulations were abounding. Lots of pictures of a great day were taken along with a plan for a slap up meal. And beer! When I handed the bike back to Jean-Michel, I resisted the temptation to say 'Aha, told you so......'. We managed a right old knees up, mentioning Ventoux in every breath. Ventoux bores we will most certainly be. Fatigue caught up with us pretty quickly and sleep beckoned. Off the top of my head, I think I consumed c. 11 gels, 2 cans of coke, 5 bars of something, 1 Snickers, 6 large bottles of powdered water, 1 espresso and 1 biscuity thing. I think Jamie will add the rest of the consumption stuff. From our discussions, it looks like we were burning c. 600 calories per hour and were cycling for about 8 hrs.
Personally, I thought this was bloody hard. I think James Beaumont said that it is achievable. It is, but some planning is required and a reasonable amount of effort is needed. I'm just your average, enthusiastic club cyclist. There were certainly times when I thought I'd bitten off more than I could chew. Having Jamie around was a definite boost. Having the gals after the 2nd climb was a boost too. Definitely worth a shot if you get the chance.