
The Toughest Tour de France Climbs: A Fan's Guide to the Greatest Cols
, 6 min reading time

, 6 min reading time
Every July, the world holds its breath as the Tour de France peels away from the flat roads of France and heads into the mountains. It is here, on the legendary cols, that the Tour is truly won and lost. The climbs do not simply test fitness — they break spirits, forge legends, and create moments that fans carry for life. Whether you are planning to line the roadside with a flag or watching from the sofa, knowing the great climbs is essential to understanding what makes the Tour the greatest sporting event on earth.
So which climbs genuinely deserve their reputation? Here is a fan's guide to the most brutal, beautiful, and historically significant cols in Tour de France history.
If you had to choose a single mountain that defines the Tour de France, it would be the Col du Tourmalet. Sitting at 2,115 metres in the heart of the Pyrenees, the Tourmalet has appeared in the Tour more than any other hors catégorie climb — over 90 times since 1910. No other mountain comes close.
The stats are punishing: the eastern approach from Sainte-Marie-de-Campan stretches 19 kilometres at an average gradient of 7.4%, with sections pushing beyond 10%. The western side from Luz-Saint-Sauveur is 17.1 kilometres at 7.3% — almost as relentless. There is no easy way up the Tourmalet.
The Tourmalet has hosted some of the Tour's most dramatic moments. In 1969, Eddy Merckx — the Cannibal — launched a solo attack from the foot of the climb and arrived at the summit alone, going on to win that Tour by nearly 18 minutes. In 2010, Andy Schleck attacked Alberto Contador on the Tourmalet's upper slopes, setting up one of the most controversial Tour finishes in recent memory. And in 2019, Egan Bernal and Geraint Thomas used the mountain to distance their rivals and rewrite the race entirely.
The summit is marked by a bronze statue of a cyclist straining over the bars — Le Géant du Tourmalet — and if you ever stand there yourself, battered by altitude wind, you will understand why.
Mont Ventoux does not belong to a range. It rises alone from the Provence plain, a white limestone dome visible from 50 kilometres away, stripped bare above the treeline by centuries of deforestation and baked by southern French sun. Riders call it le Géant de Provence. Some just call it the Beast.
From Bédoin — the classic approach — Ventoux measures 21.5 kilometres at an average of 7.5%, with the notorious stretch through Chalet Reynard to the summit averaging over 9% for several kilometres. The summit sits at 1,912 metres but the exposure makes it feel higher. In summer, road temperatures can exceed 50°C. When mistral winds blow, riders have been pushed sideways across the road.
Ventoux is inseparable from tragedy. On 13 July 1967, British rider Tom Simpson collapsed and died near the summit during the Tour. His memorial stone, placed a few hundred metres below the top, is always adorned with water bottles, bidons, and tributes left by passing cyclists. Stopping there is not obligatory, but most riders do.
In 2016, Chris Froome famously ran up the road in cycling shoes after a crash saw his bike destroyed — one of the most surreal images in Tour history. Ventoux has a habit of producing them.
If Ventoux is solitary and eerie, Alpe d'Huez is the opposite: a carnival. The 21 numbered hairpins climbing 13.8 kilometres at 8.1% from Bourg-d'Oisans are packed with hundreds of thousands of spectators every time the Tour arrives. The atmosphere is like nothing else in sport.
Each of the 21 bends is named after a previous stage winner — Fausto Coppi, Lance Armstrong, Marco Pantani — and fans camp at their favourite hairpin for days in advance. The legendary Dutch Corner at Hairpin 7 is a wall of orange-clad supporters who create a corridor so narrow that riders have been pulled from their bikes. Gendarmes now line the route, but the chaos is part of the charm.
The record ascent stands at 36 minutes 40 seconds, set by Marco Pantani in 1997 — though asterisks hang over several results from that era. More recently, Tom Pidcock's stage win in 2022, attacking alone in the rain after crashing earlier in the stage, reminded a new generation why Alpe d'Huez produces heroes.
The Galibier sits at 2,642 metres — one of the highest points ever reached by the Tour de France, and one of the most spectacular. Accessed from the south via the Col du Lautaret or from the north through Valloire, the Galibier often features in combination with the Telegraphe, creating a back-to-back climbing section that can cover 35 kilometres of near-continuous ascent.
The approach from Valloire is 18.1 kilometres at 6.9%, but the final kilometres above 2,000 metres bring thin air, cold temperatures, and roads that are sometimes still bordered by snowfields in July. In 2011, the Tour's centenary stage finish was placed at the Galibier summit — the highest in Tour history — and Andy Schleck won in a solo breakaway, arriving alone in freezing fog to one of the most atmospheric stage finishes in recent decades.
The Galibier lacks Ventoux's mythology and Alpe d'Huez's crowds, but for sheer alpine grandeur it has few equals.
This debate divides cycling fans every July. On paper, Ventoux is longer (21.5 km vs 13.8 km), slightly less steep on average (7.5% vs 8.1%), but far more exposed. Alpe d'Huez has a higher peak gradient in its lower hairpins and is ridden in the thick of a mountain stage, often after 150+ kilometres. Ventoux can come earlier or as a summit finish on a dedicated Ventoux day.
Most professional cyclists, when pressed, say Ventoux in the heat is the harder day out. The isolation, the barren moonscape above the treeline, and the pitiless exposure to sun and wind sap mental strength as much as physical. Alpe d'Huez is brutal, but the crowds carry riders up. On Ventoux, no one carries you anywhere.
The honest answer: both are extraordinary, and no fan's Tour de France knowledge is complete without an appreciation of both.
If the Tour de France is more than just a race to you — if you know your Tourmalet from your Telegraphe and your Pantani from your Pidcock — then you might want your walls to show it. Our Tour de France signs collection features personalised cycling prints and signs built for proper fans. Whether you are after a gift for the cyclist in your life or something to put in your own garage or pain cave, take a look at our Tour de France cycling gifts.
And if you want more cycling gift ideas, our guide to the best cycling gifts for Tour de France fans covers everything from personalised prints to gifts for every type of rider.
Allez, allez, allez.