What more can I say about Mont Ventoux? It is a place that I have written so many words about. Not only is it a beautiful monstrosity looming on the Provence landscape where so many great cyclists have risen and fallen, it is bizarrely wrapped around my life with MS. In 2016 I climbed it as part of a fundraiser for Multiple Sclerosis research and treatment, whilst also raising awareness and helping me realise that life is still so worthwhile with MS. In 2026, ten years on, it is marking the way again. That life will still go on, but that there will be huge contrasts.
Some heartening, some confrontational.
The Climb
I am at a loss for words about the climb itself. The emotions, for the slight despondency when you realise that, even with an e-bike, it is going to hurt. I stopped four times. Two of these were moments of doubt in the suffocating, grasping forest between the small settlement of Saint-Estève and the restaurant at Chalet Reynard, after which the bald mountain earns its nickname. The doubt was not in my legs because they were effectively boosted by that mechanical doping of the e-road bike. It was my stability, balance. The feeling that right arm was made of concrete. I was happy that digital gearing meant a little tap to change gears.
Add to this fatigue and heat. That concrete right arm meant grabbing a sip from a bidon was not an option unless I stopped. Fortunately, the e-bike meant starting up again was possible.
Summit
Detail. Too much detail. Let’s get to the summit which felt like another planet, figuratively and emotionally. There are moments in my mind that I did not grab a picture of. Looking down and seeing a Paraglider. The Alps on the horizon. That road snaking up the side of the mountain, which I did take a picture of. Barren, as though the climb had taken me to Mercury.
That road I would need to go down. Oh, sh*t. The first time I had descended. Every other time I had been taken down by car after the climb….
Take it in first. Even with a battery, the legs hurt. Wonderful! Finally, aching muscles! Not numb. How good is that? The rest of the group made it up which meant hugs and posing for photos. Bask in the achievement! Even with a little help, still mine.
Descent
I wanted to descend with the others through Sault, where apparently there was Lavender to be seen. But that would have involved more climbing between Sault and Bedoin for the final part of the journey. I had no battery left on the e-bike and my legs would struggle to maintain another climb. So the only choice was to descend home. Not a gentle descent but the steep, plunging road that had just been climbed. Would I be able to control the speed? Could my leaden right arm take the corners? Would my right hand be able to pull the brake hard enough at the right time?
I don’t know what happened. Peaking at 60km/h, overtaking (!) two other cyclists and nearly a car until I decided to pause and take some snaps. That leaden right arm had little to do and I still feel more stable on any form of racing bike rather than a normal bike. Occasionally had to pull the brakes. Pull them hard, screeching in to sharp corners. Dump speed then start actually pedalling again! Not much but… the hands were good enough.
In no time it was done. Sit down, feel good. Then it hits, what I have just done.
Climbing a Mountain, Walking Down a Hill
This is not some heroic bullsh*t or mind over matter cr*p. I expressed my thoughts on that in a recent post. Yes, positive energy is good but it is an insult to all dealing with medical conditions that they can somehow think themselves better. I climbed Mont Ventoux and it was hard work but it was possible because I had an e-bike. Electricity over matter, not mind over matter. Important to keep that sense of perspective.
That perspective hit hardest in the evening. Walking down the hill to Bedoin for an evening meal after the ride brought it home. Walking stick, walking support and still so slow. Grateful to the patience of my friends, Andy and Wayne, as they had to wait for me. The slow walk down not because I was tired from the climb. I was just as slow on the first walk down when we had not cycled up a mountain. It was not a long walk but still, quite hard work. This also meant the guys going to the shops every day. Of course, they didn’t mind. I did! That in the way feeling. Feeling dependent on others. It can be hard but I am glad of the generosity of so many.
Ventoux: Marking New Directions
Such are the contradictions of life with something like PPMS. The strength was still there to get up Mont Ventoux. Even with the assistance of that small battery motor there is still a lot of me in that climb. My coordination skills are not what they were but they got me down which actually feels a huge achievement. It is important, though, to remember the positives and acknowledge the negatives. That’s what change is. Mont Ventoux has been a symbol of change, a marker of new directions, that beautiful monstrosity in my life. Ten years ago it was about resistance. Now it is about embracing the new.
I am lucky that I am ill now, not twenty years ago. Simple things like an e-bike and there I was, on the roof of the world. Keeping my world open. Mont Ventoux is now the marker of keeping the world open. It will not be an even battle but I will try my best, also at dealing with the lows that come with progressive illness. That self-doubt, though, walking down that hill. That is going nowhere fast. But I will look forward to the next time I see that Mountain again.
