From Avignon to Mont Ventoux
July 3, 1999

Distance: 174 kilometers/108 miles
Elevation: 3,350 meters/10,995 feet
Difficulty: 9/10
Scenery: 7/10;
Route: Avignon-D28 (St. Saturnin, Pernes)-D1 (Mazan)-
D163 (Modene)-D974 (Bedoin)-Ventoux Summit-D974 (Malaucene)
-Ventoux Summit-D974 (Carpentras)-D942-Avignon

 

I’ve always wanted to ride up Mt. Ventoux, but since the mountain stood pretty much by its lonesome self surrounded by a relatively flat Provence countryside, I didn’t feel that a special trip just to ride up it would be worth the effort, so I had to put my desire on hold until an opportunity came along. Such an opportunity came when I needed to be in Paris for business on a Friday. Instead of going back to London right away, I decided to head south and spend the weekend in Provence. My plan was to combine a sightseeing trip to Avignon (which, in the 14th century, became the papal headquarters when Rome became too threatening) with a ride to Mt. Ventoux. I had only considered this because the entire trip could be made exclusively by train (Eurostar from Waterloo to Paris, then TGV from Paris to Avignon).

It was the first weekend in July, and thus the traditional start of holiday season for the French. Paris was sweltering with high-summer heat, and the mass exodus was already clogging traffic. So, when my business in Paris finished early afternoon, I wasted no time heading to Gare de Lyon to catch the next Avignon-bound TGV. I left Paris a little past 15:00 and was in my Avignon hotel room by 19:30 (we had a 20-minute security delay in Valence). I hurriedly put Erasmus together for the next day’s ride, then went out to get dinner.


(Above: The enormous Palais des Papes, built in 1334 at the time of Pope Benoit XII)

Avignon and the Papacy

The circumstances that led to the Papacy's exile into Avignon in the 14th century can be traced back 300 years to the time of Pope Gregory VII and the 27 propositions of his Dictatus Papae (the Pope's Supremacy). Christendom to this point had flourished despite a tenuous alliance between the temporal authority of the Emperor and the spiritual governance of the Pope. Dictatus Papae asserted the Pope's supreme legislative and judicial authority over the entire Christendom, both temporal and spiritual, including the Pope's right to appoint the Emperor. This struggle for supremacy continued for the next few centuries.

In 1294, the Council of Cardinals elected the ambitious Boniface VIII Pope. His papal supremacist Bull, Unam Sanctam (1302), proclaimed that no creature could attain salvation without it. Philip IV, the King of France, was not impressed. Boniface VIII was kidnapped by the King's agents and the shock from the experience killed him. His successor, Clement V, took office in Avignon, not Rome.

From 1309 until 1377, Avignon, which at the time belonged not to France but to the Kingdom of Naples, was the papal headquarters for the next six French Popes who succeeded Clement V. The exile ended in 1377 when Pope Gregory XI, at the prompting of Catherine of Siena, returned to Rome.

At the time of the Black Death, Avignon also served as a refuge for a lot of Jews under the protection of the Pope. The Jews, in people’s seach for a scapegoat, were accused of having caused the deaths by having poisoned the wells and springs.

But wait! That's not all. After Gregory XI died, the cardinals elected Urban VI, under Roman pressure to elect a Roman Pope. Urban VI turned out to be too authoritarian for comfort, and when he refused to give up his position after being deposed, the cardinals elected a new French Pope, Clement VI, who returned the Papacy to Avignon. And thus began what is known as the Great Schism, a conflict that for 40 yearsresulted in multiple Popes.

The Avignon Pope was recognized by Spain, Portugal, France (of course), the Kingdom of Naples and Scotland; the other countries supported the Roman Pope. But it got worse. When both parties declined to attend a council to attempt a reconciliation, the College of Cardinals elected a third Pope. The whole mess was finally resolved in 1417 when the Council of Constance, summoned by Emperor Sigismund of Luxembourg, dismissed all three pontiffs and elected Martin V the new Pope.

Avignon itself remained the property of the Popes until 1791, when it reverted to France.

As well, Avignon had long been one of the French centers of culture and art; this was evidenced by a disproportionate number of playhouses for a city of Avignon’s size. Its famous festival was due to start the following week, but the place was already abuzz with excitement and anticipation. Playbills were plastered, quite literally, all over the city.


(Above: Porte de la Republique, Avignon's south gate)

But the main reason for my trip was 40 kilometers away. Actually, I would have preferred to stay in Carpentras, 25 kilometers closer to Mt. Ventoux, but logistical and time constraints, plus the fact that Carpentras was no longer served by passenger train made having to start from Avignon necessary.

(Below: The outline of Mt. Ventoux, visible through the sun's glare, as seen from St. Didier)

A very bright and sunny morning greeted me the morning of my ride. There was no question that the day would be stiflingly hot. My plan was to follow the D28 east of Avignon through St. Saturnin and Pernes-les-Fontaines, then follow minor roads to Mazan and Bedoin. From Bedoin, the D974 would take me to the summit of Mt. Ventoux via the southern route. My objective was to climb to the summit (1,912 meters) twice, up the south side from Bedoin, down the north to Malaucene, then to turn around and to climb the north side, then back down to Bedoin and on to Avignon via Carpentras.


(Above: Vineyards near Mazan)

The terrain from Avignon to Bedoin was flat, save for a couple of minor uphills. The scenery, though pleasant, was not particularly special. Mt. Ventoux’s summit, marked by two prominent landmarks, was however visible throughout my approach. Just past St. Saturnin, I joined up with a local French rider and we took turns pulling.


(Above: Glorious tournesols. No trip to the south of France would be complete
without a picture of Provence's Van Gogh-esque sunflower fields.)

On paper, the climbs were rated with a mean gradient of 7.5% each way. The climb from Bedoin is 21.5 kms long and gains 1,610 meters (about 5,100 feet) in the process. From Malaucène, the elevation gain is 1,570 meters in 21 kms. A third approach, from Sault in the east, is 26 kms and gains 1,220 meters. From the numbers, this last approach appeared the easiest. All told, this little adventure would gain almost 11,000 feet, all but a few hundred feet in two mammoth chunks of sustained climbing. In other words, it was heaven!

Mt. Ventoux, of course, had been, and continues to be, a staple of high-profile professional bike races in France. In 1999, American Jonathan Vaughters of US Postal won the time trial of the hors categorie Dauphine Libere stage race on these same roads, storming up Mt. Ventoux from Bedoin.

The summit of Mt. Ventoux is not so much a peak as it is a high point on an east-west long ridge in western Provence. The mountain’s massive bulk is perhaps what earned the mountain the nickname "Giant of Provence."

Proud of Vaughters’ accomplishment, and flushed with American pride this Fourth-of-July weekend, I decided to time myself from Bedoin to the summit (later in the day, while resting from this ride, I would watch Lance Armstrong don the maillot jeune after winning the prologue of the 1999 Tour de France in an impressive fashion).

(Below: The barren upper slopes of Mt. Ventoux are slightly
visible on the upper right, as seen from just outside Bedoin)

Last Updated: September 08, 1999