Mont Ventoux is like a beacon in this area of France and is known, loved or hated by the thousands of cyclists who attempt to conquer it’s heights on a daily basis. There have been many who never saw the top, the struggle too great. It is a beautiful and cruel mountain and I’m always drawn to it like a ‘bee to honey’ but I’m a walker not a cyclist and I don’t have that need to kill myself in the attempt to tame it. I just love to be one with it. These are my musings………………………..
You stand proud like a sentry
Constant as time
The Bald Mountain;
A homing point on the horizon
You come alive when the sun hits you,
Your white top shining like icing on a cake
Your slopes turning black as the light changes.
To conquer you is the aim of many
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