The Club des Cinglés du Mont Ventoux is an informal affair, but it is one of which I am proud to call myself a member.
To date, there are fewer than 8,000 of us. Back in 2010, a year after my first ascent, I came to Provence and tackled the Giant via all three road routes – from Sault, Malaucène and Bédoin – in one day.
It was a hugely rewarding 11 hours on the bike (okay, we stopped for omelette and chips at Chalet Reynard and coffee in Malaucène, but this wasn’t a race). The small plastic medal I received from the club’s curator, Christian Pic, still sits proudly on a shelf at home.
A few days later, I recreated for myself the 2009 Tour de France stage that finished atop Ventoux. Having grovelled up the climb from Bédoin ‘to find out how hard the hardest route up feels after a full stage’, I felt the mountain and I were done.
If there is a spiritual side to cycling, and I feel there is, for me it can be found in the bare roadside rocks that make this mountain a climb apart from all others.
History and the ghosts of this great sport are all around you on Mont Ventoux, and cycling on this hallowed terrain can give you a sense of what it might be like to hit a serve on Centre Court at Wimbledon.
I craved a return, but what new challenge could tempt me back?
I noted with interest the growing talk of a fourth route to the top of Ventoux, an unmade road known variously as the Route Forestiere or Route des Cèdres that wound its way through the forest, and had been added to the Cinglès challenge by Monsieur Pic to form what he called the Galérien challenge – to ascend and descend the Ventoux four times.
There are, of course, certain challenges to adding what I’d heard amounted to an ‘off-road’ ascent to the day’s climbing. Coming in just behind the extra 1,620m of climbing, the biggest concern was whether it was even feasible, let alone advisable, to attempt to take a road bike where road bikes fear to tread.
Okay, you could hire a mountain bike, but do you fancy hauling that up the road routes?
The answer potentially lies in GT’s Grade – a road bike you can take off-road if GT is to be believed.
This feature first appeared in issue 306 of Cycling Plus, in October 2015.
Best-laid plans
It was not, therefore, the equipment that scuppered my plan to elevate myself from Cinglé to Galérien, but myself. Having booked our stay at the magnificent VeloVentoux in Faucon, a stunning Provençal village, a perfect warm-up ride’s distance from the mountain, for July, I broke my collarbone in the Alps in June.
Undeterred, it was decided I could at least add the Route Forestiere to my collection, even if in isolation.
During a balmy summer evening chat over the local rosé in the VeloVentoux garden, host Craig Entwistle talks me through his own recent Galérien attempt and tells me he would have warned me off attempting it in mid-July anyway.
“You really should do it in spring or early autumn,” he says. “You do need the daylight hours, but the temperatures at this time of year will be a real problem.
“I’d also recommend not leaving the Route Forestière until last, as I regrettably did, because it’s tough. Slot it in between the Bédoin and Malaucène ascents, or maybe Malaucène and Sault, instead.”
With those warnings about not taking the forest road lightly, I set off at dawn to discover the mystery of Ventoux’s fourth way.
The ride to Bédoin, and indeed the first 6km of our ascent, gives the Grade ample opportunity to display its smooth-riding prowess on the tarmac.
I’m lucky to have been lent the Carbon Ultegra model, with a full-carbon frame and Ultegra Di2 to keep weight down, and the 28mm tyres offer an armchair ride across Provence’s admittedly excellent road surfaces.
Heading away from Bédoin the climb of Ventoux begins deceptively steadily: on well-paved roads climbing at around five per cent, it is pretty easy progress through St Colombe and Les Bruns to the hamlet of St Estève, which is where the road famously kicks round a hairpin bend and takes on its unrelenting 10 per cent gradient for the next 10km.
I don’t have to worry about that, safe in the knowledge I’ll soon be turning off this well-ridden road onto something new and unfamiliar. I do have to worry about the fact that I am already in the 30T cog at the back, and the 36T ring at the front, meaning I only have one more gear to bail out into when things get tough.
Let’s off-road
After just over 2km of the steep stuff, a wide gravel road appears on the left-hand side of the road and I draw glances from my fellow cyclists as I nip out of the line of riders hauling themselves up the route and hit this mysterious fire road.
I’m pretty sure most of those looks are afforded because no one, at a glance, will have realised my Grade is anything other than a road bike.
It is, though, and as soon as I’m on the broken tarmac and gravel of the Route des Cedres, the fat tyres and wide bar come into their own.
The gradient isn’t too troublesome to begin with, and with a rough but decent surface beneath me, I feel I’m getting one over on the hordes tackling the Tour de France route that I have left behind.
The climb from Bédoin wasn’t too busy thanks to the crack-of-dawn start, but it can become a veritable conveyor belt of cyclists of all shapes and sizes as the day wears on.
Not so the Route Forestière. Out here, photographer Manu and I are alone. As the road twists its way, we are afforded glimpses of the summit, but never fellow ‘road’ users.
There are tracks leading off the road we’re on, hinting at the hikers and mountain bikers who must be out there at play on the mountain, but the Ventoux is a big playground and they are probably all feeling as alone as we are.
Following the Route Forestière is pretty simple despite those deviations, they are not routes you’d want to tackle on anything but a mountain bike (or by foot in my case), so sticking to the ‘main’ road will keep you heading in the right direction.
The relatively good road that greets you at the foot of the forest route gives way gradually to an increasingly rough track.
Strewn with potholes and rocks it is a test of both the Grade’s handling and my slowly healing collarbone, while the gradients that at first eased off also return to ensure some of the roughest terrain is tackled alongside inclines of 10 per cent.
Fortunately in the last week I have finally been able to get out of the saddle without too much pain in my shoulder, unfortunately the idea of doing so and maintaining traction here is pure fantasy.
Grinding away seated I do manage to maintain forward momentum, but I wouldn’t want to be out here on anything less than the Grade and its fat Conti tyres.
There is no doubt that this middle section is the toughest and most remote of the ride. It can be very difficult to work out exactly whereabouts on the mountain you are at times, but put your faith in following the main route and you will be rewarded.
At the only truly confusing junction, you will find a signpost pointing in three directions, and someone – presumably that nice Monsieur Pic – has stuck a fading Club des Cinglés sticker on the arrow that points up and left.
Wind your way up
From here, you are crossing from the Bédoin ascent where you started to the almost as tough Malaucène road on the opposite side of the mountain. No one claimed this was the most direct route to the summit!
The worst, it becomes clear, is behind us though. The surface begins to improve so that soon we are back on the kind of gravel surface we began on and on which the Grade excels.
At the same time the gradient eases, becoming something of a false flat for a while and, still in the shade and quiet of the trees, things are extremely peaceful.
On another day, this would be a great spot for a picnic, but we’re on a mission and must press on.
Another kilometre or so of rough gravel and I can see light at the edge of the forest, beyond which lies the final 4km of the Malaucène (and my) climb.
A couple of Italian riders get a surprise as they take the hairpin at the exit from the forest road and spot me emerging from the trees.
Back on tarmac, the Grade makes short work of the final kilometres, although my initial enthusiasm at being back on solid ground sees me put a little too much effort in a little too soon, and my pace noticeably tails back off as the weather station at the summit comes closer into view.
Reaching the summit of Mont Ventoux is always a special moment, no matter which way you arrive, but still bathed in the early morning sun and with clear views across to the Alps as I haul myself round the final bend it is more beautiful (and more quiet) than ever.
That beautiful conclusion to the ride is almost perfect, but not quite.
OK, I don’t have the condition to climb this mountain three more times today, but I am determined to pay my respects to Tom Simpson. I drop down towards Chalet Reynard, eager to sample again the final few kilometres of the classic Bédoin route… the famous, treeless ‘moonscape’ that winds up past the memorial to the British world champion and wearer of the yellow jersey who lost his life on these slopes.
Clip-clopping up the steps to the monument, I add a Cycling Plus bidon to the many that have been left in reverence to the great champion and pause for reflection.
Yes, he was racing the Tour, and yes, he had ingested amphetamines and alcohol, but Simpson’s death is perhaps the starkest warning of just what this mountain can do.
Any ascent of the Giant of Provence should be approached with respect, and you can add the Route Forestière to that list.
Both the Grade and I were up to the task, but you are heading off into the unknown when you take that left turn.
Ensure you have enough food and water for the journey because you won’t find any in the forest.
Take a fully charged phone, ride with due care, and revel in the wilderness and the achievement.
Do what we didn’t and add the three road climbs to your day out, and you will be one of only 500 cyclists to have managed the same.
