Bianco Conquers Ventoux
By Jimmy Bianco

For those of you who saw the epic attacks during the Tour de France stage at the top of Mont Ventoux on July 13, 2000, I had the pleasure(?) of riding that stage two days earlier as part of an organized ride/race put on every year by Velo Magazine.

I hadn't really planned on doing this; my friend Michel, with whom Lisa, Michael and I were staying in France, signed me up long before I left on vacation. As the trip got nearer, Michel would slowly leak info about what he had gotten me into, and finally gave me the ride's web site a few days before I left. Sure enough, the ride was the exact route of the 12th stage, which went over two cat 2 climbs and a cat 4 climb, before finishing atop Mt. Ventoux, a hors category climb that Lance Armstrong called "the toughest climb in this year's Tour, hands down."

And so on July 11th I lined up in Carpentras along with 7000 other riders (yes, that's s-e-v-e-n t-h-o-u-s-a-n-d). I started with two other riders, Bernard and Julliet, friends whom I met through my friend Michel. They convinced me beforehand that we would all ride together until we reached Mt. Ventoux, and then we'd each go at our own pace. I was happy with this arrangement, as I hadn't really trained enough for this type of ride, but I figured there would be lots of other people like us, just out there cruising, so no big deal.

Wrong! When the gun went off, Bernard and Julliet began weaving through the crowd, hammering whenever they could, as if there was some prime for a new car just up the road which I hadn't heard about. The language gap was a problem here, as I couldn't quite piece together the french words "why in hell are we going so fast?" So I just hung on their wheels and promised myself they'd wear themselves out soon.

Riding in a group in France is not much different from the States. "A gauche!" is how they say "on your left," "a droit" means "on your right," and "attention!!" means you did something to piss someone off. One of the really cool things, at least on this ride, is when you got to one of those roundabout things in the road, you could go right or left around it, just like the pros. Ooooooo...

Another amazing thing was the scenery. The roads were all narrow, about 1 1/2 lanes, usually without a center line. We passed lots of vineyards, sunflower fields, and lavender fields, just the most beautiful scenery imaginable. The course also went through lots of small villages, and people were out in great numbers, cheering the riders along. The weather was partly sunny, enough so that I got a sunburn, though it tended to get a little chilly at the top of the climbs.

The first climbs were category 2 and 4. I was really surprised how easy the grades were -- the cat 2's were pretty long, but only as steep as Mandeville, and not the steeper sections, either. The cat 4 was very short, and like Latigo. I was pretty tired at that point, though, and I could see Mt. Ventoux in the distance, looking very, very large. It was also covered at the top by some very ominous-looking clouds.

The climb up Mt. Ventoux is the final 23 km of the 155 km stage, and climbs from Bedoin, at an altitude of 200 meters or so, right to the summit, at 1909 meters. My apprehension was piqued by the first 7 km or so, which were very very easy climbing. Easy at the bottom meant tougher farther up, right? Right. The middle 10 km were just brutal. I sat in a 39x25 and did my best to keep moving the pedals. Riders were dropping like flies along the way, walking, sitting, or lying down on the side of the road. Not just one or two, but hundreds of riders.

The km's went by, very slowly, and as the climb went up, the temperature went down. The start had been 70 degrees and sunny, and Bernard and Julliet had persuaded me to leave my arm warmers and jacket in the car. Bad choice. But the work of the climb kept me warm, and after what seemed - and was - a very long while, I reached Chalet Reynard, just 7 km or so from the top. The grade eased at this point, though the wind started, as Chalet Reynard was just about at tree line. There were kilometer markers along the road - shaped like tombstones! - which showed both the km's to the top and the altitude. I used these to play mind games with myself ("ok, there's just a Latigo-sized climb left," then "there's just a Piuma-sized climb left").

About 5 km from the top, it started to rain. Not hard, just very cold. That lasted only for a kilometer or so, when it turned to hail. I kept climbing as hard as I could, with the finish in sight. I heard someone climbing next to me curse in English - there were very few English-speaking riders - and we spoke a little about how screwed this was - hail! Amazingly, the weather got worse. The nearby summit became obscured by clouds, the wind was whipping, and suddenly a huge bolt of lightening struck somewhere very close to us. But that wasn't enough, of course, as the hail turned into snow. I found out later it was 34 degrees. Unbelievable!

At the top, there was pandemonium, like a shipwreck. There was fog, wind, and blowing snow, the clouds made it dark, and people were rushing around like mad. Riders were huddled everywhere trying to get warm. I had thought to myself during the last part of climb that I couldn't stop at the top at all, just keep on going over the top and start descending. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention? Though the ride ended at the summit of Ventoux, the real finish was 20 km down the other side of the mountain, in Malaucene. There simply wasn't enough room on the summit of Ventoux for 7000 riders and their family and friends.

The descent was hell, by far the worst part of the ride. It was freezing cold, the road was slick and very steep, and I was riding in shorts and a jersey, period. I couldn't stop shivering, my whole body ached from the cold, and it was all I could do to keep squeezing the brakes so I wouldn't go too fast. But at least I was going down. And I had it a lot better than some other riders - there were legions of riders walking down, and many just stopped on the side of the road. Big ambulances were packing riders in and taking them down, and crowds of riders were waiting for additional ambulances. I later learned they shut down the race not long after I summitted because they were simply overwhelmed by the numbers of riders who needed ambulances.

After about 6 or 8 km of descending, when I was wondering how much longer I'd be able to squeeze the brakes, I came to a chalet, and stopped in. Though it looked quiet from the outside, inside it was packed with riders, there was a big fire going, and the bartenders were cranking out hot chocolate as fast as they could. Sweet!! And how glad was I that I happened to be carrying french francs?

After half an hour or so, I could feel my hands again, and I ventured out. I was immediately freezing again, and now my front wheel started a high-speed wobble from my shivering. But the more I descended, the warmer it got, and just as I reached the finish in Malaucene, I came across Lisa, Michael, and my friends Michel, Chantal, Bernard, Julliet, and Bernard's wife Marie-Claude and son Alex, having a picnic on the side of the road, enjoying the 70 degree sunshine. Life was good!

Total distance: 108 miles. Total climbing: 10,800 feet. Total time to the summit (me): 7 hours, 20 minutes. Total time to the summit (Lance Armstrong): 4 hours, 15 minutes. But, hey, it wasn't snowing when he did it, right?