France in 1967. Tommy was dehydrated and delirious and when he fell off, asked spectators to put him back on his bike. Tragically to no good effect. The legend Eddie Merckx also required oxygen at this stage of the Tour in 1970 having nearly collapsed.
The final bend is a 20% hairpin but short enough to allow a final push for the summit, where you will find stalls seeking sweets, cakes and souvenirs as if you are on Brighton pier. Finally, the tower looms over you. You made it. Along with a hundred other people sightseeing.
Ventoux is legend. It is mountain, it is a personal challenge, it is history. It has romance, death and beauty. It has its fair share of tat and twats in cars thinking it is a road race. It is accessible and also inaccessible at the same time. It is science, geology and geography. It belongs to no one; it belongs to everyone. It is the centre piece of Provence.
Chapeau!
Après-Midi The fiercest of heat, the whiteout of sunlight, the near oppressive ambience make for an afternoon whose only function is to guide one through the interregnum between a wellwatered lunch and dinner punctuated by pastis. The stones in the field between the vines stand quite still. Any pools of water that might have collected from any overnight shower have long evaporated. Lizards bask, snakes somnambulate, sparrows languidly frot between shady perches. Cats have their snooze spots; dogs can’t even be arsed to yap. Bars and restaurants
A DAY IN PROVINCE - BENNY GOODMAN
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