The Giant of Provence. It is the Mecca of French cycling. Iconic. Brutal. Unforgiving. 

And I finally climbed it today. 21km in 1:36. Once I was past tree line, the wind was blowing me backward — when it wasn’t threatening to blow me off the mountain. 

It really feels like climbing to the moon. The terrain changes. The temperature drops. The air becomes thin. The summit is surreal with the bleached rock fields and all of Provence spread before you. 

In the end, it reaffirmed my faith in the bike. And in my ability to ride it. 


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