This article was first published in Rouleur 113

I was on Mont Ventoux before I knew that I was standing in the shadow of greatness. Back in the 1980s, on one of my first visits to France, I worked in the kitchen at a small ski resort in the southern Alps. As the winter season closed, friends whom I had met working in the lodge, invited me to come to their old family farm in Malaucène. It sounded like a good idea. Little did I know that the village was in the heart of French Provence, let alone at the foot of such an iconic climb.  

At the time I was only considering cycling as a sport for myself, and the mountain’s rich history was unknown to me. And although my stay was memorable, I do not even think I saw the Mont Ventoux itself. After all, anyone who has climbed the Ventoux knows that, by the time you descend into Malaucène on the edge of its north face, the summit itself is well out of view. 

 It was only in the ensuing months, as I became increasingly hooked on cycling and its history, that I understood I had, in fact, been staying so close to one of the sport’s most iconic climbs.

Fortunately, I have remained friends with both Jackie and Thierry. I have returned many times to the old farmhouse. And I have returned many times to the Mont Ventoux. 

They call the Mont Ventoux ‘The Giant of Provence’, and in every aspect, the climb lives up to its name. Starting at near sea level, it rises to 1,909 metres in just over 20 kilometres, as the mountain towers over picturesque French Provence. 

The most frequent path towards the summit is through Bédoin, the village sitting at the foot of the south side. And if this is the road most travelled to its upper peaks, there is good reason, for it is from this perspective where you can really fathom the Ventoux in all of its grandeur. In contrast to the Malaucène side, where the summit only comes into view in the final few kilometres, from Bédoin the summit of Ventoux dances in and out of sight constantly.

Riding out of town, the distinctive barren rock slopes crowned by the iconic weather station, first come into view as the gentle opening pitches wind through the vineyards and olive groves below. And once you crest the treeline with approximately six kilometres to go, the summit dangles up ahead as the road laces its way through the fragmented limestone façade.

And it is from this side, where the greatest pages in cycling history have been written. While the Tour de France made its first incursion up the Ventoux in 1951, it was the 1955 edition where it really entered into the collective imagination. The race did not finish on the summit that year, but the Ventoux provided a magnificent stage for the long solo attack by world champion Louison Bobet, en route to his third Tour de France title.

Behind Swiss champion Ferdi Kübler, himself winner of the 1950 Tour, attacked on the first steep pitches. When Raphaël Géminiani – perhaps the greatest rider never to win the Tour – yelled out to him, “Careful Ferdi, the Ventoux is not a climb like the others,” Kübler responded, “And Ferdi is not a rider like the others.”

Video footage of the final kilometres of the climb then show Kübler, empty, struggling to simply turn over his cranks. A broken man, Kübler announced after finishing in Avignon, that he was dropping out. The Ventoux proved to be his final day in the Tour de France.

But while Kübler’s demise was dramatic, true tragedy struck a dozen years later with the death of Tom Simpson, and July 13, 1967, 55 years ago, remains etched in the collective memory of cycling fans around the world.

Locals in the villages below the Ventoux still recount stories from that fateful day. One I once met insisted he saw Simpson dart into a bar on the approach to the climb, not only to fill up his water bottle but also to grab a shot of Pastis, as anise was considered a thirst quencher back in the day. More recently, just last year, Spanish climber Julio Jiménez told me how the two had broken away on the climb and how Simpson rode. “He didn’t miss a pull up the entire climb,” he recalled. “And then suddenly he just fell off his bike.”

The Tour, nevertheless, has returned many times since. And more times than not, it has offered an unforgettable stage, laden with drama. There was the memorable time-trial in 1987, where up-and-coming Frenchman Jean-François Bernard screamed in pain as he raced up the rocky slopes, setting a record that would last nearly 20 years.

Then there was the unlikely solo victory by the statuesque Italian, Eros Poli, in 1994. At 6ft 4in and weighing 85 kilos, Poli was a patented non-climber. But on that day he went on the attack early and amassed such a lead that the race favourites never caught him as he muscled his way over the climb and soloed to victory in Carpentras. And there was of course the memorable duel between Lance Armstrong and Marco Pantani in the 2000 Tour, one in which Pantani felt insulted when the American appeared to let the Italian win.

The Ventoux also proved to be a central climb to the career of four-time Tour winner Chris Froome. It was here, with an impressive solo victory on the summit, where Froome constructed his first Tour victory in 2013. But it was also here, on the lower reaches of the climb, where Froome’s Tour chances were nearly dashed, as he crashed into a moto that was slowed by the dense crowds in 2016 and had to run part-way up the climb as he awaited a new bike.

And while the Mont Ventoux is not on the route in this year’s race, it left an indelible mark in 2021 with its double ascension, capped by the magistral solo victory of Wout van Aert.

The Ventoux, however, is not only centre stage for the Tour. It hosts races all year round. The Critérium du Dauphiné has long visited this historic climb as riders rehearse for the Tour de France. And in recent years, the Tour de la Provence has become the earliest race in the cycling calendar to attack the climb, twice finishing just after cresting the tree line at Chalet Reynard.

And in less than five years the Mont Ventoux Dénivelé Challenge has earned a reputation as a jewel of a race. The first one-day race to finish on the Ventoux, it was the Dénivelé Challenge that inspired the Tour to race to the summit not once but twice, while its popular gran fondo event gives everyone the same opportunity.

But then the Ventoux is like that, and really, any day is a good day to climb the Mont Ventoux. It is a truly singular climb. Perhaps it is the manner in which it reigns alone over French Provence. Perhaps it is the iconic weather station Or perhaps it is the barren rock surface that blankets the final six kilometres. There are no distractions on the Ventoux and every cyclist, be it racer or tourist, is instantly alone in their effort on this mountain. Whatever the reason, the Mont Ventoux has inspired cyclists for decades, and it will for generations to come.