Heading down for breakfast the room is quiet because more than 20 of the group have headed for the daunting Ventoux. Some who had been considering it thought better of the challenge and are eating breakfast with a palpable sense of relief. With diminished numbers we are into two groups instead of four. No one from the faster groups joins Group 4. They don't know what they are missing. Or, they do.
We assemble in the town square, instructions are given and off we go. This is without doubt the hilliest and hardest day. It starts off pleasantly as the route heads on a wonderful quiet road over the Col De Murs which runs through beautiful vineyards, basking in the morning sunlight. The chatter is leisurely but there is the cloying anxiety about what lies ahead. We cycle past the looming shadow of Mont Ventoux and spare a thought for our brave colleagues who are over half way up their climb by now. The physical and psychological challenge of the cycle has started to take its toll on some of us in the Group 4 and one person has to get a lift in the support van to avoid the steepest climb. I remember rule 5 of cycling: 'Toughen the f*** up.' I'm trying to, while regretting the Sunday mornings spent in bed avoiding the mountains training.
After 40km, we have a snack stop in a gorgeous village called Vaucluse de Fontaine which seems to be carved out of the imposing rock face that surrounds us. I know I should take photos but I'm too tired.
The next stage brings us to the aptly nicknamed 'Vomit Hill' as the road suddenly rises to become a 20% incline and you have to push hard on the pedals or else fall over. (Falling over has never felt so tempting!) But reaching the top is a small achievement in itself. As I sit at the top, I'm greeted by the sight of Daragh running around the corner and up the hill, having dumped the tandem and pilot Tom in frustration. No mean feat for a vision-impaired man who walks with the aid of a stick! ‘I didn't come here to walk up hills’, he shouts as he ascends. We all do the hill in our own way. Tom was not impressed.
Our lunch stop is another hilltop village, the smugly-titled Bonieux. Beautiful views, yes, but again you have a 6km uphill climb to see them. It seems never ending. Once there, bolognese and pasta await, as well as a truly stunning view of the French landscape. As much as these fortified towns were built to provide protection, the views must have been a welcome addition.
The descent after lunch is a terrifying adrenaline rush, as we wind down for nearly 13km. You have to really watch your speed on the bends to avoid ploughing into oncoming traffic. One wrong move by you or a car and you will be seriously hurt….or worse.
A few kilometres from our destination I am passed by a group who has ascended Mont Ventoux. Perfect for my ever decreasing self respect. Their guide Duncan starts to shout gearing instructions at me as they approach from behind. He's a wiry Northerner who takes no prisoners. I'm standing, trying to pedal up a steep hill in a high gear to relieve the pressure on my derrière. ‘Change that gear! You've lots of gears to go’ in his sergeant major like tone. I tell him I'm fine and go ahead ... or similar words. He promises to make a man of me….. or similar words.
Our final destination for today is Aix-en-Provence - a truly lovely town that has been linked with many great artists, particularly the impressionists. You can understand why as you see throughout the day how the light shifts and plays with the landscape. The looming mountains at one moment look like dark distant shadows, at another like gleaming granite faces against azure blue skies.
The climb up into the town is a long and arduous one - almost 13km - made all the harder by being at the end of a long day. But the rolling landscape is the reward. My legs hurt as we pedal into the town. Shoppers shop and fashionable men and women drink coffee outside the cafés. Some raise an eyebrow at this motley crew of cyclists as we go by.
Maybe we made an impression but like the landscape here, I suspect everything is ever-changing and ephemeral.
The news from the mountain is that all riders made the ascent. Eight rider's bikes arrived back in the support van from the 120kms stretch afterwards. One rider had an encounter with a car on the descent and hit a crash barrier. Thankfully, no serious injuries, but it gives me pause to think about how dangerous cycling can be. I FaceTime home, text my mother and then look for my new best friend, Sudocrem.
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