I don't want to sound as though I am starting to stress over Mont Ventoux but it is just a week away and with two weeks pedalling under my belt on this adventure I am already trying to work out if I am building Mont Ventoux busting strength or simply building up a reservoir of fatigue enabling the Giant of Provence to properly beat me up. That said, today's climb out of the valley that the river Célé and the town of Figeac sit in was not problematic but then I've had it easy recently. Mont Ventoux sits in the Provencal landscape and is often referred to as the Giant of Provence. It feels as though every book on cycling I've read manages to squeeze in some Mont Ventoux tale of doom. A feeling highlighted by Jeremy Whittle's book which is dedicated to the mountain and is snappily titled (and scarily sub-titled) "Ventoux: Sacrifice and Suffering on the Giant of Provence".
If you like foreign language films you may have come across the film simply named "Ventoux", which follows a group of four middle aged French men in lycra re-uniting to re-enact their earlier teenage voyage to climb Mont Ventoux. There are lots of flash backs to their younger selves and much puffing and panting on the actual climb. I lack perfect recall but no doubt there would have been some jeopardy as the least fit member grinds up to the top with sweat dripping on to the bars as the front wheel flaps left and right under the strain. But the point is, the film was called Ventoux and the MAMILs were there to conquer, or be conquered by, the Giant of Provence. There are better cycle routes and challenges in France but it is Mont Ventoux that captures the limelight. I won't try any clever analysis to explain the draw of Mont Ventoux but will ask you to imagine jumping on your own stead and creaking up hill on an awkward gradient until you reach the moon. An apt image as the summit of Ventoux is always described as lunar.
When asked why I dedicated my valuable research time to reading a whole book on Ventoux the answer came easily; I didn't want to die. Ventoux takes human lives; about 10 a year in total though not just cyclists. It's hard to find data as the tragic Tour de France death in 1967 dominates internet search results. In addition to the road itself Ventoux - in common with much of France - is home to hunters and human deaths from hunting do occur.
In Greek Mythology it was Perseus who was gifted a collection of divine tools to help him with the seemingly impossible task of slaying Medusa. One of the lessor tools was a purse (or bag) that took on the size required for the job which came in handy for carrying the head of the slain Medusa. The Harry Potter series has a room in Hogworts that meets the requirements of its users in a similar way. Many of the world's pilgrimage routes also manage to conjure up what the pilgrim needs; a water fountain, a bakery, a bed for the night; as the saying goes "the camino provides". The point I am slowly getting to is that Mont Ventoux DOES NOT operate in this way as suffering on the way up and fear on the way down are the order of the day. This applies to ageing amateurs (that's a reference to me by the way) and top professionals alike as shown by Chris Froome in 2013 when he won the stage but required oxygen at the finish after Ventoux took away that most fundamental element from him. Then in 2016 Froome famously ran towards the finish as Ventoux broke his bike. Like I say, Ventoux provides exactly what you don't want. As I mentally prepare I firm up the list of things I don't want such as bullet proof legs, a bike that works and food trucks every 2 kilometers. Hear that Ventoux? I really don't want those things.
Enough Ventoux obsessing, for today anyway, as this is proper pilgrim territory and I am surprised by the number passing through though it is mid-May and pilgrims do tend to group in towns then leave around the same time after a civilised French breakfast so bunching occurs. Drivers are warned about them as if they were deer prone to running into the road.
I missed all the coronation coverage but it is front page news in France and I noticed that the French have picked up on the broad UK sentiment including the Harry narrative; they don't even mention Megan. "Le Désamour" is Harry's tag line and this translates in different ways such as disenchanted but unloved probably comes closest.
Another example of an official administrative border messing with the natural order of things is my brief encounter with another department though I'll be straight back into the Lot.
I don't like photographing people's houses but this shot shows the traditional roof covering used in this region with the full and muddy waters of the river Lot in the background. I spoke to a pilgrim in Figeac and he did say there had been plenty of rain in the Massif Central where the Lot flows from. In the sunlight the roof does have the appearance of fish scales.
I follow the river Lot for much of the day and because it is sheltered and warm its a hotbed of salad production.
I wasn't in the Aveyron department for long. My new department and formal region are clearly signed.
The landscape has a totally different feel and with cows relaxing by the crystal clear waters of the river Lot it brings to mind the English picturesque. Yes, you heard me, crystal clear as the earlier downstream mud had joined the Lot from a tributary.
Just a regular village on the way.
The final 10 miles of this 40 mile day is on the flat and it's not until I reach Entraygues that I notice I've been rolling along comfortably in a gear sufficiently high that I feel quite encouraged about the future. The view below is classic Lot valley.
