Peaky Climbers by Paul McIntosh McIntosh

Author:Paul McIntosh McIntosh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brown Dog Books

The third ascent begins in Sault, back up the slope we just cruised down, and though the village is closest to the summit in terms of altitude, there are still 1200 metres to climb. We roll through acres of lavender fields, the smell lingering despite their having long since been harvested. Bundles of the flowers sit piled up outside roadside cafés, waiting to be sold.

‘Beautiful,’ says Simon, breathing in a perfume-laden lungful. ‘Lavender is my favourite herb. It’s a type of mint, did you know that?’

‘More importantly, Simon, how did you know that?’

‘Oh, well, I do my mother-in-law’s garden.’

‘Is that a euphemism?’ Ben cackles.

‘I keep the pub garden as well, at the Green Dragon.’

‘You kept that quiet, Si.’

‘Look out lads, we have Alan Titchmarsh among us!’

It seems fitting that the final attempt on Ventoux should be made as a group effort, and the greenery of the lower slopes encloses the eight of us in its warmth as we hit the climb together. Fire roads wander off between the trees and sheep graze the slopes. Le Chalet Reynard is once more reached, the only building on the mountain between the foot and the peak, used variously as a refuge and a restaurant, and the focal point for riders; it is often said, once you’ve reached Chalet Reynard you’ve cracked the climb. It’s a struggle to see how that can be true. At 1400m high, the steepest part of the climb is over, yet the difficulties are just beginning. We pause, collecting ourselves before launching the last offensive.

The past four days have finally got to Allen. On any other day he is the model of politeness, but now, in pain, hungry and exhausted, lathered in four tubs of chamois fudge, he lets rip: ‘I never want to see this fucking mountain again. Macca, you wanker, you can fuck right off if you ask me to do anything like this again.’

Astounded, there is silence, then we burst into gigantic rolling laughs.

‘Allen, that was priceless!’

‘You have become a true Peaky at last.’

Allen begins to laugh too, and with a Peaky Climbers badge to add to those in his Scout collection, he leads the way back into the climb, joining the familiar route of the Bédoin ascent. The laughter continues as we jump on our bikes and follow up the slope, at least for the first five metres, then it’s back to cycling hard.

The last vestiges of the pine forest cling to the surface as the view opens up, and up we climb towards the observation tower, the whole of Provence laid out below. Graham takes the brunt of the wind, with Allen and Simon tucked in behind me. With one last nod to Tommy Simpson we reach the final few hairpins.

I turn to Simon.

‘You take the glory, mate. Anniversary present.’

‘You sure, Skip?’

‘Absolutely. All part of the love we have for you, Si!’

Out he rides, straight into the roaring wind, Graham on his tail and they race the final corner, a sprint finish for the podium, Simon taking it by a head.

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