Today I aimed to join the cyclists and motorcyclists and take the bus up Mt. Ventoux. After waiting half an hour at the designated stop, I put out my thumb to hitch a lift. An older style camper truck pulled over. I was let in through the back door by a teenage girl, then greeted her younger sister who was still lying in bed, and a large, black, patient sort of dog. After a quick swapping of seats, I shared the table window with the mother, Sophie. Her English was very good and made the journey easy for me. The girls, Elise and Margot sat in front with Phillip. I was never told the dog's name but I was given their address in case I were ever in Angers.
The road is a steep 21k climb, ascending to 1912 metres and littered with cyclists of various nationalities pumping their way up this renowned Tour de France route. As we overtook them Elise and Margot would lean out the window and shout encouragements: "Allez allez ! Bon courage! Bravo!" and the sweaty, fixed stare of determination would momentarily soften into a smile as the two pretty muses passed by.
Hitching down was also very pleasant in a smart, air conditioned car with two elegant Parisian women who were here for le weekend. On the floor next to me were several pairs of stylish summer shoes in bright pink, lime and some soft shimmery colour, making me acutely aware of my clunky blue trainers and purple socks. The tail end of Mozart flute concerto lilted in the chilled air and all too soon they dropped me off at the restaurante by the entrance to the campsite. It is more of a watering-hole for cyclists, with racks of cyclist related Mt.Ventoux souvenirs, however across the road is the true watering-hole.
A large, grotto-esque pond, where the occasional cyclist paddles or washes the wheels of their bike, is fed by several jets of icy spring water from the source of Le Grosseau. This source had encouraged the Roman settlement at Malucene and was dedicated to the god Graselos. Little is known about him, however it is possible that the name comes the root gras -gift and elus- alms and could be interpreted as meaning 'giver of alms' or perhaps 'giver of health'.
People straddle the mossy rocks and lean over to fill their cupped hands, litre bottles or stock up with several 25 litre containers.
Around the pond, in the shade of mature holly, oak and pine trees, a boy throws a stick for a dog, women sit and chat, a man makes a watercolour of the view, couples picnic and, of course, there is boules.
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