I am a big believer in making your own luck, I often get a bit agitated when people look at me and the way I live my life and say “you are so lucky” little do they know about the battles I had to fight on my journey. The last 12 months however I slightly altered my view on this. May be I am lucky. I am lucky to have the ability to purely enjoy the great things in life. The ability to find calm in the sound of beautiful music, to become lost in any form of art, a touching movie or the colours of a captivating painting or most commonly feel alive when standing on top of a mountain or on am empty beach. I was born with passion. I was born with drive and determination.The ability to laugh, love, and dream in any given situation, together with my mental and physical health, has been and is my luck.
Most of my ventures the last 3 years have been about racing, either mountain bikes, road triathlon or Xterra Triathlon. My goals the last year have been very competitive and quite selfish. When I got the invite from MarathonMTB team rider Will Hayter to join him and his mate Sam Hemmant on a trip to the Provence to race a couple of MTB marathons and enjoy the cycling routes of the South of France, I consciously decided not to race but join the boys for the pure joy of riding. I was done with competing for this year. Not knowing either Sam or Will (other than reading Will’s blogs) I was a little anxious about the trip. During my European Xterra extravaganza however I had learned to be open minded towards other people and this attitude had left me with friendships for life and I decided this was not going to be an exception. And it didn’t take long for me to realise I had made the right decision, the three of us fitted well together, and after a couple of days it felt as if we had known each other for years.
our ride in blue
Will was racing two MTB marathons, but the main aim of the trip for Sam was the traditional Mont Ventoux challenge and become a member of the Cingles Club which Will had already achieved in 2012. To become a member of the Cinglés Club you needed to climb the mountain by the 3 traditional ways from Bedoin, Malaucene and Sault all in one day!
Each road to the top was roughly around 20km long with an average 1500m elevation gain. Not for the faint hearted.
Mont Ventoux (Ventor in Provençal) is a mountain in the Provence region of southern France, located some 20 km northeast of Carpentras, Vaucluse. It is the largest mountain in the region and has been nicknamed the “Beast of Provence”, “the Giant of Provence”, or “The Bald Mountain”. It has gained fame through its use in the Tour de France cycling race.
Mont Ventoux, although geologically part of the Alps, is often considered to be separate from them, due to the lack of mountains of a similar height nearby. It stands alone to the north of the Luberon range, separated by the Monts de Vaucluse, and just to the east of the Dentelles de Montmirail, its foothills. The top of the mountain is bare limestone without vegetation or trees, which makes the mountain’s barren peak appear from a distance to be snow-capped all year round (its snow cover actually lasts from December to April). Its isolated position overlooking the valley of the Rhône ensures that it dominates the entire region and can be seen from many miles away on a clear day.
Mt Ventoux meant something special to Sam, he talked about it with exitement most of our trip there and I was inspired by his enthusiasm.
“I am in” I heard myself say. “lets do it” I looked at Sam who’s face lid up. “I want to do it no matter how long it takes me” I looked at Will. “Even if you have to push me up that mountain”. My long training rides had been no longer than 4-5hrs and I had never climbed more than 3000m in one day. We were looking at a 8-9hr day in the saddle and with the ride from and to where we were staying close to 5000m of elevation. A complete unknown for me but I got excited about the thought of achieving something slightly crazy like this.
The only way to hydrate in France
Plans were made to climb Ventoux on the Tuesday and we started our week on Monday with an “easy” 3hr ride to warm up the legs. Will took us on a stunning route through the provence with spectacular views of the vineyards and no lack of climbing. The weather was perfect and Sam and I were eying up the mountain whilst we were trying to keep up with Will’s “steady pace” Although feeling good I was getting a little worried when Will said “you just have to maintain this pace for about 8hrs tomorrow” I couldn’t really tell if Sam found this ride easy and I didn’t want to hold anyone up so I just kept quiet whilst getting a bit nervous for the big day ahead of us.
Dday arrived. After a massive loading of carbs the night before I could hear Sam cooking us porridge “breakfast for champions” in the kitchen. I have never met anyone who can eat as much as Sam. He was complaining about the pockets in his cycling jersey not being big enough to carry all the food he needed for the day, he was like a human Labrador.
I looked outside, sunny and clear skies. Perfect. Unfortunately Will had engorged himself on to much cheese at the local market on the Monday and had been battling an upset stomach all night. One man down. It was just going to be Sam and I. Will was hoping to join us for the final climb out of Sault later in the day.
We set off nervously chattering and Sam admitted that Will’s pace the day before was a little hard on him also which made me relax a bit. The climb out of Bedoin is known to be hardest out of the three climbs. The road got very very steep in places but since it was the fist climb, we were full of enthusiasm, our legs were fresh, the sun was shining and by the time we had reached chalet Reynard we had solved most of the Worlds problems. As we were heading into the final 5kms to the top we both got quieter, taking in the beauty of the Mountain and its views. Sam whispered “this is a special place, this is”
The scenery more than the physical effort took my breath away, this truly was a special place. The views were endless. I suddenly realised that by sharing this little expedition I had become part of Sam’s journey and Sam had become part of mine. ‘Would it be gay if we high five at the top’ Sam asked me, I laughed, ‘no I said but we have to up it each time, so second time will have to be both hands and the third time it will have to be a body splash’ Sam was silent for a minute ‘what is a body splash?’ ‘Jumping up and high fiving chests’ I replied. “Ah he said whilst laughing.
Tom Simpson Memorial Site
We passed Tom Simpsons memorial site, Sam filled me in that it was during the 13th stage of the 1967 Tour de France, Tom Simpson collapsed and died during the ascent of Mont Ventoux after saying “put me back on my bike” He was 29 years old. The post-mortem examination found that he had mixed amphetamines and alcohol; this diuretic combination proved fatal when combined with the heat, the hard climb of the Ventoux and a stomach complaint. The memorial near where he died had become a place of pilgrimage for many cyclists.
From here it was a final grind till we reached the top. The view was really indescribable and with the clear skies there seemed no end. The feeling of reaching the top for the first time was quite something and I was eager to descent down and start the 2nd climb. I felt extremely alive.
There were a few other riders joining our excitement and taking pictures. Sam and I high fived, took some photo’s, supplied ourselves with very expensive cookies from the local cookie man and started our descent down into Malaucence. I hadn’t mentally prepared myself for the descents, it was actually really hard, the fresh air was bitingly cold and after 2kms I couldn’t feel my hands or feet anymore and my whole body had become stiff. Strangely enough I preferred the climbing!! I had to slow down a bit to stay warm and Sam was patiently waiting for me every 5kms or so.
Down at the village it was a lot warmer again and we stocked up with more food and water. We were under time pressure to not run out of daylight for our final descent and ride home. Poor Sam had to endure the not so patient part of my personality and I made him inhale a brick of cake in record time. Off we were for the 2nd time, Sam didn’t feel that great and we climbed this one at our own pace. I was riding hard. The incline was marginally less steep than the Bedoin side but it felt like a more gradual climb, the legs never got a break. Although riding alone, on every steep incline I thought of Sam and wondered if he was hurting to. The weather had changed and when I got sight of the top it was embedded in clouds. There was something punishing about being able to see the peak but it still being a good 4kms of climbing away. It felt like Ventoux was laughing at me. I was in the zone and dug a bit deeper making my legs burn some more. I left everything on the mountain. I reached the top for the 2nd time, there was no view but it was extremely quiet, it almost had a holy feel to it. The few riders present exchanged looks of recognition to each other, a slight nod, a softly spoken “bon jour”, a faint smile. I sat down and the excitement of the first climb had been replaced for the feeling of extreme calm. I put my jacket on and waited for Sam.
The descent to Sault seemed to go on forever, but it wasnt as cold as the north side.
After a good sleep Will had risen from the dead and joined us for the final climb. Sam had recovered from the cake overload in Malaucene and we were all in good spirits. I knew this last climb was going to be the test for me, I was entering the big unknown. We had been on the bike for over 6hrs and we had another 2-3hrs ahead of us. A short break, some food and off we went again. The final one. Will was setting the pace quite high out of fear we would run out of daylight. Although the incline from Sault was much easier then the previous two climbs, I was struggling to hold the boys wheel. I tried not to think about having to maintain this pace for another2hrs. The kms seemed to be scraping by. Hurt box. Sam looked back at me, he was so focused, the way I owned the climb out of Malaucene, Sam owned this one. We reached chalet the Reynard and whilst the boys stopped for a toilet break, I continued climbing. I was worried that if I would stop I would never start again. Will looked at me in a slightly worried way, I didn’t even have the energy to reassure him “just going my own pace” I mumbled.
It wasnt long before Sam caught up to me, he was flying and I made no attempt to follow him. A man on a mission. Will passed me, “I am ok ” I said.
I passed Tom Simpson for the third time that day and thought about his determination till the bitter end. A cycling hero.
The last few kms were mentally interesting for me, generally when I find myself in the hurt box I am racing and the motivation to continue is generally the chase for a podium spot, or the satisfaction of finishing a race. This time there was no such incentive. I reached extremely low energy levels and stopping actually crossed my mind, which was crazy with only 2kms to go but at the time it was a serious consideration. My stomach started rumbling and I realised I was now in serious trouble. The top seemed so far away and I felt I wasn’t moving anymore!
500m to go felt like forever and Will descended down towards me, he was smart enough not to say anything, he positioned himself quietly slightly behind me and it actually motivated me to empty the already empty tank in the last few hundred meters. I reached the top for the third time. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t talk. I could only feel relief. I looked at Will blankly “food” I asked him and he handed me a block of banana bread. It instantly made me feel better. Almost no one at the top, just the three of us. It was freezing, foggy and windy. Sam came into my vision, no high five, no high ten, and no body splash. A simple fist pump and a smile, a gesture which said it all. We had done it and way before we had run out of day light. Memorable moment high on the mountain. A few more pictures and we started the descent home.
Sam, Will and Me on top of the World
The banana cake had hit the right spot and I came back to life. Once we dropped below the clouds which seemed to be really localised around the top of Ventoux, we were back in sunlight and it turned into a lovely autumns evening. I followed Sam on the downhill and we reached crazy speeds adding to our excitement. Both of us were on a high. The efforts of the day started to sink in and I experienced a feeling of huge achievement in a way I had never felt before, this little project had absolutely nothing to do with performance or competition yet I found it equally as satisfying. It had been a beautiful day.That night we engorged ourselves on French cuisine and although Sam And I had talk of getting absolutely smashed during our climbs up Ventoux, it only took a couple of glasses of wine to make us long for our beds and a well deserved sleep.
An epic ride, a magical day. I felt very lucky. Lucky to have met such awesome like minded people in my life with whom I have shared so many great experiences. This year MarathonMTB had been a key link in this crazy chain of events which happens to be my life.
I am very lucky I have my health and my fitness so I can do the things I love doing and I can chase the things I feel passionate about. I am lucky I can see beauty in so many different ways which give me the freedom to dream and be happy.
Lucky I am indeed.
“Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, or worn. It is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace & gratitude.” – Denis Waitley