By Ogen Perry

The Mougins bicycling club travels through the French countryside on their approach to Mont Ventoux.

We had started at 8 a.m. and now, well into the ride, my handlebar-mounted altimeter shows about 2,000 feet. If we were climbing Page Mill Road, I’d be done now. But this is not the Bay Area, and we have hardly scratched the surface. Mont Ventoux (Windy Hill in Provençale language) is 1,912 meters high - 6,271 feet, or roughly the equivalent of climbing Mt. Hamilton and Page Mill Road. The climb is approximately 12 miles long, at an average grade of 10 percent.

At least the weather is good! The winds on Ventoux can be so strong that it is sometimes scary to drive up in a car. But today, the air is relatively still. Actually, my biggest concern had been the heat. Last night, I covered myself with a wet towel just to fall asleep but by this morning, things have cooled down a bit and it is actually quite pleasant.

My French bicycling career with the Mougins bicycling club had started inauspiciously. On my second ride with the group, I was chatting with Claude the 60-year-old chiropractor and was not paying attention to the road. I hit a sidewalk head-on, crashed into the wall of a church (was I being punished for something?) and tore two fingernails. Doesn’t sound like much but six stitches later, I was out of commission for two weeks. After that, the group adopted me and I became their American. You can’t really hope for a more beautiful place to ride than the French Riviera, with both the Mediterranean and the snowy Alps as backdrops.

The group itself was quite a treat. It was founded some 42 years ago by a former professional rider. Nicolas Barone competed in the Tour de France four times. He never won the Tour or even a single stage, but for one day in 1957 he was the overall leader and wore the yellow jersey. A real local hero. Unfortunately, Nicolas died of a heart attack while riding with the group one year before my arrival in France.

At breakfast Maurice, the 77-year old club president, reminds all the Ventoux newbies to take it easy. “Stay behind me until the Chalet Reynard. After that you can go ahead and accelerate if you feel like it.” He needn’t have worried - none of us was about to play hero. The chalet is a restaurant about two thirds of the way up the mountain. After that, the climb becomes easier for a while and I actually upshift and accelerate … for a while.

Maurice is a wonderful character. He retired from professional riding at age 25 (10 years before I was born) and has taught me quite a bit about riding technique. This morning, I asked him why he quit racing so young and the answer was somewhat disturbing: “I refused to take drugs.” I guess only the methods have changed. I prefer to think that there really are some superhuman riders who are strong because they train very hard; but I am probably being naïve.

Well, I have left the chalet and the tree-line behind and am charting new territory. This is the highest I have ever climbed on a bike. Most of the group decided to regroup at the chalet in order to arrive fresh at the top. It’s not that I am stronger but I feel that if I don’t finish the climb in one shot, I won’t consider it a true achievement. So here I am, climbing all by myself. I am not first, mind you. By now, Claude and Patrick are near the top.

The scenery is very different now. Upon leaving the hotel and the town of Malaucène, we first rode through beautiful countryside and some of the riders stopped to pick cherries on the side of the road. The start of the climb took us through a forest.

Now, however, the trees are gone and I am riding through a high desert. The respite from the steep climb was short lived and the last couple of miles are tougher than ever. I pass a man walking his bike. I’ve been seeing the top for a while but it’s hard to judge distances. I start counting the S-curves that are left.

Finally, it’s the last, very long and very steep straight line. One final hairpin, 30 more meters and I am there. The main climb took two hours. It won’t go into the record books but not bad for a first time. At the top, there is a party atmosphere. It feels like market day, as all kinds of stalls are set up to sell candies and souvenirs. The rest of the group makes it up soon enough and it’s time for photographs before heading down the back way.

Claude may be a strong climber, but Bernard and I are the uncontested downhill champions of the group. It takes three things to be fast down a mountain: excess weight, fearlessness and an absence of common sense. On the way down, we pass a couple of cars. We make it back to the hotel in about 20 minutes.

Back in Malaucène the group sits down for a celebratory meal. Unfortunately, I need to wolf down my food and hurry back to Mougins. Tomorrow the movers are coming and I need to get the bike packed up.

Ogen Perry has recently returned to Los Altos Hills from France where he spent a year with his wife, Dorit, and children, Dahlia and Alex.