My Tour de France – Day 12

Day 12-Apt- Bedoin

80km

Up, showered, full of pastries and still somewhat confused by the events of last night, I left for Bedoin. I kept eyeing vehicles warily, suspecting all of them to be carrying a wierdo. What the hell was that about? I was glad of an overcast day that wouldn’t cook my body like yesterday whilst I headed north into some hills. As I got further north the vegetation seemed to become more sparse and lacked the vibrancy of previous days with grey olive trees abound. This was compounded by silvery grey clouds overhead that occasionally gave way to rays of light streaking through. Somewhere in the distance I could see a massive rockface that surely must be a climbing venue. I continued to wind my way up and down a few small cols and through few small towns with a Spanish feel, comprising of white rendered buildings topped with terracotta roof tiles.

Eventually, about 20km away, there it was. Mont Ventoux. Looming in the distance. Rising out of the landscape and towering above everything around it by hundreds of metres. It looked like the arching back of a huge sleeping monster with a pale exposed summit contrasting with the green trees covering its flank. It is quite intimidating just because you can see the top from way down below. The cols in the alps are so far hidden in the depths of the mountains that you are nearly at the top by the time the summit comes into view.

I went into Bedoin and got my spoke fixed. The chap with limited English said something about ‘kapput’ but fixed it regardless. I’d be going up Ventoux with no luggage and it had go this far. It would be ok! I sat and ate pizza as the heavens opened and drenched the streets and cyclists passing by. I tried to call Lamby. I didn’t get through but he called back a while later and we arranged to meet at the villa later that afternoon. It got really hot again and I found myself snoozing under a tree with a soundtrack of crickets. I rode up to a castle at a nearby town and down to Carpenteras for a stroll around with more funeral surreality, watching a coffin being carried into a church with dozens of tourist on lookers taking photos. The slow tolling of the bells had an incredibly melancholic feel and gave me a sort of feeling of dread in my stomach, but I’m not sure why.

When the time was right, I headed to meet Lamby at the villa for a reunion! It was great to see him and Sarah and regale them with the story of my French encounter, which they found amusing and horrifying in equal measures. We drank copious amounts of beer and ate a massive amount of pasta for the next day’s activities. We also had to evict a scorpion that was hanging about on the stairs. I slept like a baby in the pitch dark, enveloped by the silence of this quite part of the world.