The Giant of Provence, the Mont Ventoux. Whatever you call it, strikes a deep awe. Impossible not to see it, a few kilometers away, you can think of historical stages and intrepid cyclists. Step in your life or you’ve read, players who have made a business or, on the contrary, were defeated by the challenge. The monument to Tom Simpson, British champion who died a few hundred meters from the summit, it is there to witness it. Along the road leading to the top it is reminiscent of the great European shrines like Fatima or Lourdes: an unbroken line of pilgrims who try to reach the summit. Young and old, on shape or not, everyone wants to get up there, as there was to ask a favor. In reality there is only a picture of yourself in front of a streetsign, but only those who have seen that road knows how much effort and cost has that image. The Giant presents itself in all its power and majesty, just reach the last famous 6000 meters, you clear the 360 degree view, it does not grant you a shadow thread, nor a tree: it’s all in front of you, bend after bend , tear after tear. Even if you’re not a cyclist, that landscape is something incredible. One cannot but be fascinated. And anyone who has ever taken a road bike in his hand, in front of that show, hopes one day to be able to cajole the Giant.