Vaucluse Dreamer

Last year, when the route for this year’s Tour de France was unveiled, we knew that on 22nd July, we would be somewhere on Mont Ventoux, and everything else in life would just have to work around it.

Both Andy and I have been lucky enough to watch the riders on the fabled Giant of Provence before. I watched it on the Fête Nationale in 2016, when the summit finish had to be changed due to the fierce winds, and Chris Froome had to run, part of the way up the route. Then Andy went up a few years ago to watch the incredible double ascent, which saw the riders having to tackle the last leg-sapping, snaking bends to the summit, not just once (which is bad enough), but twice.

But thanks to the mad, chaotic nature of life, we’ve not managed to be on the slopes, watching it together. So, as soon as the route was announced our plans were made and we fitted everything else around, what we knew would be a fantastic day out.

The joy of the Tour de France is that you can watch it from wherever you like, along the route. You can be surrounded by thousands of people at critical points on the road, or even find a quiet spot, away from the crowds too. You don’t have to pay to watch it, you just turn up, find a spot, settle back and enjoy the occasion, and whilst all bike races are entertaining, the Tour de France is different, and is very special indeed. Add Mont Ventoux to the equation and it becomes absolutely magical.

For us, it’s always a full day event, as we love to arrive early and then simply sit and watch the world pass by, as people arrive, the course is set up and the atmosphere builds.

Yesterday, we set off from home just before 7, stopping at the boulangerie to buy breakfast (and second breakfast plus lunch),

before heading across to Sault, which was already busy with cyclists enjoying their morning coffee and starting to make their way up the mountain.

We unloaded the bikes from the car and started to load them up. As we will be setting off on our bike ride back through France in a little under 4 weeks, we thought this may be a good opportunity to test the panniers on the new bikes. I’m sure there were probably more sensible options for doing this than riding up Mont Ventoux, but Andy popped his on his bike, filled with bits we would need for the day, and we started to head out of the town, towards the mountain.

We’d read that the roads to the summit would be closed all day, so were surprised to see a huge queue of cars trying to make their way up, only to be diverted into a parking area by the Gendarmes. Then, as we started to head out through the lavender fields, we realised that people had left their cars and were walking up the mountain to get to the route. This is a 20km walk, and not for the faint-hearted, but young, old and families were setting off, with a spring in their step in an effort to see the race.

The cycle up is always a delight, when the road is closed like this. A steady stream of cyclists making their way up the climb, on just about every bike imaginable, some faster than others, but each and every one with a smile and an intention to get to a chosen spot on the road.

We passed people carrying signs on their backs, some people towing children up on straps attached to their bikes, and others walking up, pulling trolleys full of chairs, food and drink. It really is a big day out, and just the sheer number of people on the road, on a weekday, which wasn’t even a French holiday, was quite incredible.

It is a lovely ride up from Sault, passing through lavender fields and woodland, as the road winds its way gently up towards Chalet Reynard, where we joined the throngs of people heading up from the Bedoin direction too. If we had thought it was busy, heading up from Sault, it was nothing to the sea of people and bikes that we saw, as we pulled onto the final slopes, up to the summit.

The designated camp sites for camper vans had been filled days ago, and the party-atmosphere there had already started. Even at just after 9.30, people had found their spots, flags were flying, music was being played and we found ourselves being cheered on by groups, as we wound our way up the slopes.

On one bend, a group in ‘Viking Helmets’ were playing ‘Links – Rechts’ at full volume, which I had the sense would only get louder and more riotous during the day.

We cycled over all the writing that had been drawn on the road, smiling to ourselves that a particularly large penis, about 3 bends up, would soon be transformed into something elegant or amusing by the 2 chaps, who drive the course just before the race arrives, to alter anything offensive or political that has been drawn on the route. They are absolute geniuses at what they do.

We then came through the bend that had been transformed into a Danish quarter, before stopping just below Tommy Simpson’s Memorial, where we had a superb view of the summit, and also back down the road towards Chalet Reynard, giving us a great sight of  the race as it arrived.

Then there was nothing for it, but to unpack the chairs that Andy had carried and we settled in for our second breakfast and to watch the mountain slopes fill with people.

It may sound impossible, but the next few hours flew by, simply watching a sea of people passing by on just about every bike imaginable. There were beautiful vintage bikes, including one which had belonged to the grandfather of the young chap, who was riding it.

There were people dressed up, wearing everything from simple wigs to a heavily bearded Father Christmas and even a seagull!

We chatted to our ‘neighbours’ and it just reinforced the huge impact that the Tour has on people across the world, not just in France. Its appeal stretches far and wide and across country borders, gender and age groups too. We chatted to a German family on one side, who were half way through a holiday, based around watching key stages of the Tour.

On the other side was a young Italian couple, who were simply enjoying their day, and an American couple, who had pedalled up on rented e-bikes. They are usually up early in the morning, when at home in California to watch the race, but had built their holiday around seeing a number of stages in person, for the first time . They will be in Paris for the final day too.

By the time we’d admired the passing bikes, chatted to our neighbours, eaten our second breakfast and lunch too, we were suddenly roused by the start of the activity on the course. The precursor to the race itself.

Firstly, Leclerc vans, with people throwing armfuls of Polka-dot King of the Mountain t-shirts into the crowds. There was a mad scramble to catch them or grab one from the floor, and happily our German neighbour managed to grab an extra one, handing it to me. So I joined the red and white spotted sea of people lining the route.

Next came the van with the 2 ‘penis-redesigning’ artists, on the final approach to the summit, knowing that their work was nearly done for the day. Before the excitement of the announcement  of the imminent arrival of ‘La Caravane’.

I’m sure they announce the arrival of it, purely so that people can fully prepare themselves to catch as many bits as possible that are thrown from the back of the loud, colourful and always entertaining advertising vehicles. I suppose the best way of describing it is like a selection of small, brightly coloured carnival floats, driven at speed, with advertising giveaways being thrown from the back. It may not sound like much, but it certainly raises the noise levels and excitement in the crowd.

Elbows are sharpened, areas are cleared of trip hazards and some people even bring out hoops and signs to encourage things to be thrown their way. We have Century 21 keyrings, Orangina stirrers, caps and bandanas at home, languishing in drawers (apart from the stirrers that are quite useful), but like everyone else, I’m happy to sharpen my elbows and do a bit of limbering up in the hope of catching another bit of ‘tat’ to add to the collection.

First there are the main sponsors, including the LCL Lion,

followed by a huge selection of others, our favourite (of course) being the 2CVs that advertise the Cochonou saucissons . All we can say is that they must have been fitted with bigger engines than is standard, as Fifi (with her 435cc) would be passed by the peloton of cyclists, if she was asked to take part!

It’s colourful, noisy and fun, with representation of the emergency services too, which is always nice to see, as they play such a critical role in the safe management of the event. Happily, after the last vehicle had passed, we had caught a hat in one of our chairs, and our friendly German neighbours had captured a bandana for me too.

But then it’s time for the real purpose of the day to begin and as the ‘Caravane’ disappeared around the bend, we started to get more updates about the race from people listening to coverage, as well as our live feed too.

The riders were through Bedoin and starting to head onto the slopes of Ventoux, with a breakaway group including the wonderful cyclist and most importantly, french rider, Julian Alaphilippe, who then attacked. Even though they were still nearly 15km from us, I’m  sure he could have heard the cheering from the summit.

And then it became a breathless, nervous time of anticipation and excitement, as the helicopters following the riders came into sight just below us. With every update, the anticipation of what was to come grew, with ripples of noise in reaction to every update that we received.

The possibility of a french winner at the summit seemed to lift the crowds even more, only for the hopes to fail when we heard Mas had attacked, leaving Loulou behind, with Vingegaard and Pogacar chasing fast and breaching the gap. But clearly the race was on, and we were going to see a fantastic battle, as the riders headed up the scree slopes, through cheering crowds and past us on the way to the summit.

Then we caught our first sight of the riders on the bends below us, and the wave of noise hit us, as they started climbing through the last few bends. There was now a leading group being led by Ben Healy, and within what felt like a few moments, they came into sight. The fact that another french rider was in this group lifted the crowd even higher, with Valentin Paret-Peintre now carrying the hopes of a french winner at the summit on his shoulders too, although hopefully the support would give him the final boost he would need to cross the line first.

The shouting of ‘Allez’ was deafening, but the riders were so focused that I’m not sure if they would have heard a thing. They passed within centimetres of us, and the effort and pain was written clearly on their faces, but their focus was on the road ahead and the tower at the finish line that was coming ever closer.

As we watched them hammer past, at speed that I can only dream of going downhill, with a following wind (not on steep bends after having already ridden over 160km).

As Julian Alaphilippe passed the noise lifted again, he’s so popular and we were desperate to give him as much support as we could to help push him towards the summit. You can experience this in the video of the day That we have added to our YouTube Channel

We hardly had a chance to breathe before we started shouting again as Vingegaard & Pogi came into sight. We had expected a larger gap, but they were closing fast on the leading group, with Vingegaard glued to Pogacar’s wheel, clearly waiting to attack again, which he did as they just passed us.

It was breathless to watch, and the racing was incredible, even in the split seconds that we saw the riders. We were gripped by the live coverage now too, waiting to hear which of the riders took the win at the summit and the battle was clearly going to go all the way to the line.

Then the news came in that Paret-Peintre had won the final sprint to the line, pushing Ben Healy back into second and to say the crowd around us erupted is an understatement. There were shouts of ‘Valentin, c’est Valentin!’ and immediately they burst into cheers, followed by an impromptu and rousing rendition of La Marseillaise.

It was just absolutely joyful to be part of it, and thinking about it now, still brings the hairs up on the back of my neck.

But the race was still on, and the riders were still passing us, being cheered on as loudly as we had cheered the first. We spotted some of our favourite riders and shared the joy of our German neighbours, when the UAE rider (I think Nils Politt) riding by the team car handed them one of his bottles. It was also lovely to see another rider hand one of his bidons to a young french child opposite us too.

And then, before long, the team cars came into sight, with the Lotto-Soudal car (Paret-Peintre’s team) playing ‘We are the Champions’ over the loudspeaker and the driver shouting ‘Vive La France’ out of the window. It was simply the best response there could have been, and put a smile on everyone’s face, raising a cheer too. Finally, the broom wagon came into sight following the last rider up the hill, and then it was over

And it was time to join the mass of people heading off the mountain. It was an absolute sea of bikes, with the sheer weight of people causing ‘traffic jams’, bringing everything to a stop, before edging slowly forward again.

We made slow progress, gently making our way down the hill, passing people who were starting the long walk back to their cars in Sault. We took it as carefully as we could, critically aware of the fact that we have a long bike ride and another big holiday coming up, so really didn’t want to put either of these at risk by taking a tumble.

It felt as if it took us almost as long to get off the mountain, as it did for us to get up it, in the morning, but as we headed back across the lavender fields and back into Sault, we had a wide grin on our faces and heads filled with memories of a wonderful day.

I understand that watching a bike race is not everyone’s idea of fun, and we have been asked why we would even think about spending hours waiting for bike racers to flash by and be gone in seconds. But hopefully this will have given you a sense of what makes this such a unique and wonderful experience.

We have both watched a TDF stage on Mont Ventoux before, and they were both incredible events. But I don’t think they come close to being on the final climb on this fabled mountain, on a day when a young french rider claimed the summit win, (the first in 23 years), in a race that was filled with attacks and battles from the start.

We arrived home exhilarated, exhausted and slightly sunburned after the hours on the mountain, but the memories will last for a very long time.

Chapeau Valentin Paris-Peintre and thankyou for making the day so memorable.