The Golf-Drouot in the 9th arrondisement in Paris is roughly 1,000km north of the Col de la Madone. One was once a temple of rock 'n roll, the other is perhaps the most famous climb that has never featured in the Tour de France. One man and two passions brings them together.

To the beat of the drum.

The Golf-Drouout poured fuel on the fire burning inside Michel. He was born in mid-west France but he quickly emigrated north to the capital to find work. Michel had already fallen in love with the music of Elvis and his French counterpart, Johnny Halliday. He found himself selling haute-couture to the rich and famous on the Champs-Elysees. Living beside his work was, well, no bad thing. Reverberating through the floorboards was the music from the Go-Go dancing nightclub below.

To the beat of the drum.

The Golf-Drouot began its life in 1955 on the Champs-Elysées as a tea-room with a miniature golf club. That’s right. Miniature golf. On the Champs-Elysées. In 1960 the owners realized their gimmick was a bit slow for the Parisian way of life and so they installed a jukebox that held 100 vinyl records. They stocked coke-a-cola and set the age limit for under-18s only. Miniature golf was put in its place. After that, for twenty years, more or less, the Golf-Drouot burned bright. It was to Paris what the Cavern was to Liverpool. David Bowie, Free and The Who all performed on the tiny stage.

To the beat of the drum.

The Golf-Drouout : 'C’était le temple du Rock and Roll '. The Rolling Stones used it as their press conference site whilst in Paris in 1965. It was Bowie’s first gig outside England. It was the place to be and Michel was in the thick of it. The impression lasts long enough to motivate a 50 minute commute from the Grande Corniche on the outskirts of Nice to 925m above Menton, the Pearl of France that lies at the end of the French Riviera.

To the beat of the drum.

The Golf-Drouot was a different time and a different place compared to home. Once a week, Michel packs his drums into the back of his car with one intention : to let loose up high without fear of being evicted by his wife. He candidly admits, “Je ne joue pas comme eux, je ne suis pas le batteur des Rolling Stones !' (I can’t play like them , I am not the drummer of the Rolling Stones !”). But what does it matter when your audience is wild boar, the odd shepherd and his flock and a brace of cyclists that occasionally includes a peloton of pros like Chris Froome?

To the beat of the drum.

The Golf-Drouot was down the street from where Michel's career selling haute couture to the well-heeled started. He found he had a natural talent for it. Being friendly but not too-friendly, helpful but not pushy. After four years in Paris he moved to the Croisette in Cannes where the customers were just as rich and just as famous. The clothes, if good enough, sold themselves, he said. And to be good, they must have colour and vitality. 'We need things that are bright, we are in a country of sunshine'. In a country diverse as France, with places like the Côte 'Azur, in Michel's opinion 'we miss nothing'. Therefore the clothes have to be special and colourful, as good as their surroundings.

To the beat of the drum.

The Golf-Drouot is closed now but in 2014 the Parisienne authorities erected a plaque in memory of it’s cultural significance. The original, traditional col sign on the Madone isn’t there anymore. The local marie got tired of replacing it every time it was stolen, such was the post-Lance lure of this climb that still, to this day, has never featured in the Tour de France.

That doesn’t matter to Michel. He goes to the Tour almost every year, but more as an excuse for a journey across France to ride in the Alps and the Pyrenees. His principle is to have a good time and to ensure others do the same. From time to time, when cyclists stop on the Madone to chat, he gives them a cap from the collection he’s gathered from his trips to the Grande Boucle.

To the beat of the drum.

The Golf-Drouot started with sport (of kinds) and ended with entertainment. Michel first discovered the Col de la Madone when he rode it. The first time he thought it was never going to end. At the top he found a wild place, a complete contrast to the hustle and bustle of the Croisette, a place he only had to share with the sanglier and the shepherds.

Up there Michel mounts his drums, inserts a CD into his stereo and rediscovers the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and Chuck Berry. Nearly at opposite ends of the country, a bit of the Golf-Drouot lives on and will continue to do so for as long as Michel is able. “Je pense jusqu'à la fin de mes jours de monter là-haut et je jouerais de la batterie rien que pour le plaisir.” (I think for the rest of my days i will go up there to play the drums, simply for pleasure)

To the beat of the drum.

Footnotes: Photography & Video : Matt Wragg