The Vosges are back in the minds of the Tour de France organisers and cyclists

There are mountains that hold a universal allure, destinations that anyone who has ever sat on a saddle and pedalled to enjoy the very essence of cycling – the act of pedalling itself – has dreamt of riding to reach the summit at least a thousand times in their life. These are mountain roads far removed from civilisation, which sometimes link small communities forgotten by mankind but not by God; the passes, which sometimes lead to just a few dwellings or to nowhere at all – yet it is a ‘nowhere’ brimming with charm. Their names are sometimes mysterious, at times sombre, at others mocking or ecclesiastical: the Stelvio Pass, the Mortirolo Pass, the Col du Tourmalet, the Col de la Croix-de-Fer, the Col de la Bonnette, Mont Ventoux, the Col du Galibier, Colle dell’Agnello, Col de la Madeleine (a list that makes no claim to be exhaustive; indeed, it is deliberately full of gaps, but such is life, ed.). Places that draw thousands of cyclists to them every year.

Most of the cycling dreams of those who cannot live without their bikes are centred on the Alps. Many head for the Pyrenees, whilst some venture into the Spanish mountain ranges or the Italian Apennines. They almost never venture into the heights of the Vosges or the Jura, and barely touch the Pre-Alps and the massifs that are almost Alpine in terms of geography and topography, but not in terms of cycling identity. Yet it is precisely there, between the Vosges and the Pre-Alps, that the mountainous journey – still ongoing – of the Tour de France, and therefore of cycling as a whole, began.

The Ballon d’Alsace was the first long climb that Henri Desgrange introduced into the route of the Grande Boucle. It was 15 July 1905, the third stage of the third edition of the French race. The Ballon d’Alsace provided the highlight of yesterday’s thirteenth stage of the 113th edition of the Tour de France, and will also feature in today’s fourteenth stage, which will showcase some of the best the Vosges have to offer.

For decades, this mountain range has been on the fringes of professional cycling and the cycling dreams of enthusiasts. Something – indeed, a great deal – has changed, however. The Vosges are democratic mountains: not too gruelling, not too high, and quite wooded, so they don’t overwhelm the mind, body or enjoyment of those who cycle for the love of it rather than to chase a victory – especially for the very reason behind the journey itself: to travel. That’s why they’ve started to attract those who have absolutely no interest in competing against anyone or anything – such as that ugly term ‘Kom’, King of the Mountain, the new cycling religion for some wannabe professionals.

“I was born in Niedermorschwihr; I’m half German and half French, like everyone here. I come from a family that, for three generations, has divided its time between vineyards and wine barrels, kitchens and making up beds in a small guesthouse. Often there weren’t many beds to make. At least not until five years ago,” Thibaut Kellin tells “Il Foglio Sportivo”. Near Niedermorschwihr, Thibaut Kellin produces an excellent Riesling and a delicious Pinot Noir; for the past five years, he has also been welcoming “an ever-increasing number of cycle tourists. The Vosges are becoming a hugely popular destination for those who want to travel by bike. Compared to the pre-Covid period, arrivals at the guesthouse have increased tenfold during the summer and by 400 per cent in spring and autumn. “In 2025, I’ve never had a single day without at least one guest, which used to happen before, especially up until 2015–2016. That was when we first saw an increase in cycle tourists. Now this growth is staggering,” he says.

A story similar to that of Luca Tallot, who is also a winegrower and runs a guesthouse on the road leading to the Plateau de Solaison – not in the Vosges, but in the Pre-Alps. This is where the fifteenth stage of the Tour de France ends tomorrow. “I’ve been cycling for the love of it for as long as I can remember. In my forty-five years, I’ve spent forty-three of them in the saddle. I’ve cycled to the top of all the major peaks in the French Alps, most of those in Piedmont – my mother’s homeland – and a few in the Pyrenees. My love of cycling always took me far from Bonneville and the Plateau de Solaison, a climb I saw as an extension of my home. It was only about ten years ago that I realised that for many people, the ‘elsewhere’ I was seeking amongst the high Alpine peaks was actually the Plateau and the Pre-Alps of the Massif des Bornes,” he says.

Because when it comes to cycling, the name matters, and altitude is a draw, but often the welcoming nature of a less daunting mountain can help you avoid feeling put off. “And if that’s the case, if the Plateau de Solaison has become a cycling destination, it’s also thanks to cycling and the Critérium du Dauphiné (now the Tour Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes, ed.) which, in 2017, introduced this climb to the wider public. Then cycling did the rest.” Because cycling always does it all; it reminds us that cycling is something marvellous, something we simply cannot do without.