Le Géant broods quietly in the Vauclusian dawn, after the previous evening’s downpour (with lightning). Its flanks are strewn with visitors from below, in camper vans and other forms of transportation who have taken their places within the last day or two to sit it out to be able to witness the scheduled ascent of the Giant of Provence, Ventoux, not troubled since 2016 by incursions like this, but now hosting the serious part of the eleventh stage of the Tour de France 2021.
Not one ascent you understand, but two: firstly from the Sault direction, along to Chalet Reynard, over the top and down to Maulacène, then secondly from Bédoin, to Chalet Reynard, the classic ascent, then newly cosseted summit and down, terminating back in Malaucène.
So that’s two ascents and two descents to sort the wheat from the chaff in this exciting race.
We are viewing the stage from a (considerable) distance. The view above is as close as we are going to get. As previously commented in my earlier post, best laid plans, we are destined to miss the stage roadside, miss the stage on tv and perhaps, only perhaps, have satellite tv coverage returned to us just in time for itv’s highlights programme, please God.
Eight hundred and eighty-eight miles to get here in time for the stage. Then this. Life is a vale of tears, a sheaf of might-have-beens, a cornucopia of near misses and dashed hopes…
So we went for our Rasteau walk in the fresher air of the morning and revitalised our spirits with our familiar round. Lovely. Could do much much worse. Cheered the heart and quenched the thirst once returned to the informality of the Rasteau bar.
Could that be smoke from barbeques wafting north from Ventoux’s noble brow? I do hope The Family Seat is not being abused up there by all those onlookers. We shall have to get up there sooner or later just to set foot where today’s drama is playing out, even as I tap this out.
Down here, the drama is, where is our man-in-blue? He was due at 1600……… and he arrives exactly as the church clock gives out the hour (four bells) and not in blue but black and khaki. I feel my spirits lifting: the brackets he proposes will surely give the answer to the Mistral’s attentions……
And with new resins, bolts, anchorages and tunings, we are treated with the last half hour or thereabouts, of stage eleven, a famous victory indeed for Belgian Wout Van Aert, winning the stage right outside our regular café in Malaucène… We got to see the highlights tonight at 2000 hours our time and 1900 hours yours. The ‘man-in-black-and-khaki’ done good.
No, not the stage winner, dolt! TV-aerial-repair-man, of course! He mentioned something about some football semi final he thought we might be watching this evening… get out! Football? No way.
