Own Horn Tooting

That's when there's suddenly time for blogging, when a new op-ed has been published (this one about the political turnmoil this summer in the U.S. over de Democratic plans to reform health care; in Dutch, as usual). But I'm still planning to write about U.S.-Russian relations (the post I announced weeks ago), and once that bottleneck is behind us, I should write more frequently. I do still have things to say, it's just that I also have lots of things to do.

First Encounters with Mt. Ventoux

It is a legendary climb, but I had never done it. In cycling literature--certainly in Holland, and most certainly this year--you can read pages and pages about the history of people on this old volcano, often accounts by those for whom getting to the top was some kind of personal quest. We saw lots of them, last week, and quite a few really should not have been there and probably never made it to the top. They were most likely Dutch, Belgian, or French, because cars with license plates of these three countries dominated the roads, cars often with relatives of riders stopping every mile or so to shout encouragement. We, on the other hand, did it by ourselves, two-and-a-half times. We were staying in Bédoin--where the most difficult and infamous ascent begins--had all week, and so we took it one step at a time. On the warm-up day, we rode to Sault--the lavender capital of the world, where the easiest of the three climbs up the hill begins--by way of the quiet and scenic Gorges de la Nesque (north side). That day we climbed as far as the Chalet Reynard, the place where, if you go on, you enter the rocky moonscape for which the Ventoux may be known the best. But we were on a warm-up ride, just getting back on the bike after a few days of traveling and trying to get used to the kind of non-stop climbing required here, so we hung a left and descended toward Bédoin over lots and lots of paint applied just days prior by Tour de France fans. 45 miles was plenty. We did less the next day, about 37, but worked much harder, riding to the third Ventoux town, Malaucene, by way of "the other Col de la Madeleine," and riding to the top from there. This makes it sound easy, but it actually takes work. There is a steep section in the middle--one kilometer marker warned of a 12% grade--which I found to be the hardest climbing of the entire week. I lost my rhythm there. Before that, I had been motoring happily most of the time in either the (39x) 22, 24, or 26. Those steep kilometers in the middle, however, made me unhappy in the 28. The length of the thing made the final two kilometers (steep again) tough also. This being a training ride, we forgot to reset our computers at the start, but I estimate it took me about 1 hour and 35 minutes. Descending the mountain (we completed the loop back to Bédoin) you have to pay attention: lots of cyclists coming up and going down, lots of cars doing the same. You really want to maintain a significant margin for error because there are lots of folks who could make one. On day three it was time for the timed expedition from Bédoin. We warmed up by climbing the little Madeleine, first from Bedoin, then from the Malaucene side. Around 8:30 we were at the line, underneath the plaque for the builder of the road up Mt. Ventoux. The entire way up I tried to keep a balance between pushing and pacing myself. It can be windy the last couple of miles, and you also have to contend with the fact that in the long middle section through the woods, there's really only one switchback where you could take a little breather. The rest is pretty much up, up, and up at a pretty good grade. I had it in the 28 shortly after the steep section started, but was able to turn it over fairly smoothly. It was work, but at the same time I wasn't really breathing very hard. Two kilometers or so before the Chalet Reynard, after only having passed people, I suddenly found someone on my wheel. He must have come up from behind, and he was breathing very hard. It made me wonder if I was trying hard enough. But there was still a good ways to go, and I felt I was going at at least 85%. It was hard to gauge. Up high, the wind wasn't bad at all, and my companion and I picked it up a little when the grade leveled off somewhat after the Chalet. Even though he had been yo-yo-ing off my wheel, with about three K to go he took the lead, and then slowly started pulling away. It wasn't an attack or anything (he kept looking back to see what happend to this dude who had been leading him in such a relaxed way), but for some reason I did not follow. The final section is steeper again, and by then you've been climbing for a while, but I still wasn't breathing hard and didn't really feel I was suffering. And yet, I would not pick it up another notch. The same thing happened when a little later a young rider passed me who was spending about an equal amount of time in and out of the saddle. That would have been the way to make up some ground, and somewhere I must have had it in me. Of course, the top wasn't very far anymore, so the time gained would have been little. That went through my mind also. But the fact remains that rather suddenly I wasn't moving so well any more. I suppose the Ventoux got me a little. So that's how I got to the top, in an even one hour thirty-six minutes, not out of breath, not terribly tired, and somewhat dissatisfied. A faster time is possible. How? Knowing the mountain, having done the climb, should help. Then, getting the body more used to this kind of climbing should also make a difference. Other than that, you just have to train hard, go to the limit on a regular basis, preferably in races. Since moving to Holland, I haven't raced, and I have done very few of the kind of tough training rides I used to get on a weekly basis in Milwaukee. We considered making another attempt on our final day in Bédoin, but then it would have looked as if this actually matters. So instead we chose to do a big, seventy-mile loop all around the mountain, by way of the South side of the Gorges de la Nesque (deserted, rough, and very scenic), Sault, more rough side roads, then around the back of Mt. Ventoux, and back into Malaucene by way of a quiet little up-and-down road through Veaux. Along the way, we agreed that if we had made another attempt that day, it would probably not have resulted in a better time. And it did feel nice, there in the Toulourenc valley behind the mountain, just to be able to let the legs move freely again, without gravity constantly pulling you back.