The south face from Bédoin is the standard route, the one the Tour de France has used most often, and the one that carries the most mythology. Fifteen kilometres at an average gradient of 7.5%, with the middle section through the forest — the chalet Reynard section — at a sustained 9%. Then the trees end and the lunar landscape begins: pale limestone scree, a permanent gale, and no shade whatsoever. This is where Tom Simpson died in 1967, where the mountain became something more than a climb.
The Simpson Memorial
I stopped at the Tom Simpson memorial stone, roughly two kilometres below the summit. It sits in the scree on the right side of the road — flowers, cycling caps, bidons, small offerings left by riders who understand what this mountain costs. I left a gel wrapper. It felt inadequate. I stayed for five minutes, then clipped back in and rode the rest in a different frame of mind.
"The summit of Ventoux is not peaceful. The wind is vicious, the observatory tower is industrial, the tourists arrive by car looking puzzled. But for a cyclist, reaching that white post in the howling gale is one of the most emotionally raw moments this sport can offer."
The descent toward Malaucène on the north face is a different experience entirely — steeper, faster, more technical, and with the peculiar sensation of riding down into a warmer world. The Provence landscape unfolds below you: lavender fields, vineyards, ancient villages. The contrast with the barren summit could not be more complete.
Three Routes, One Mountain, One Day
The cinglé du Ventoux — the crazies' badge, earned by ascending via all three roads (Bédoin, Malaucène, Sault) in a single day — is not something I recommend to first-timers. But having done it on my third visit, I can confirm that it redefines what you believe your body can accomplish. Total elevation: approximately 4,440 metres. Total distance: 135 kilometres. Total suffering: incalculable. Total satisfaction: the same.
Ventoux haunts every cyclist who has read about it. My advice? Go and face it. Once is not enough, which is perhaps exactly what the mountain intended all along.