We made it!! The Tour de France

Morning sun in the French Pyrenees

Within 24 hours of discovering a hill stage of the Tour de France schedules across the border from our village in Spain, we stood on a misty hillside with fellow enthusiasts, scouting for the best vantage point and awaiting the first signs of the Tour caravan.

Coming into France through the Bielsa Tunnel, the temperature instantly dropped - 25C on the Spanish side, 13 on the French.  We drove through fog and the sound of cow bells in the hills to a small village for coffee and  black-currant/custard flan (worth the drive already), before hiking up the valley to the course.

Hiking up to the course.  Fellow hikers carried nordic walking poles and wore the full kit.  Skirt-as-dress, red bag and sandals? Check. Don't want to look too prepared, now. 

Our view down the course

We arrived early, soaking up the atmosphere and wandering up to the finish line before settling on our spot close to the summit, with a good view down the zigs and zags of the climb.  There were plenty of others doing the same - tanned Spanish cyclists stocking up on the latest, tightest team kit, families enjoying the oompa-band, and Aussies - so many Aussies, doing their country proud by necking stubbies, peeing in public and waving flags of boxing kangaroos.

Camp Aussie

The red speedo proclaims 'City of Perth'.    All class.

Admittedly my racing days are a little distant now (ahem, 9 years...), but every year when the Tour rolls 'round the excitement of watching it with friends, remembering how we used to follow every rider and the details of the race so intensely, puts a misty look in my eye.

I can see how some might argue it isn't the ideal spectator sport (we waited 5 hours for 20 minutes of riders passing us...), but I love the story that unfolds over a race that ridiculously (almost a month) long -  and to be honest, the hilarious Euro glamour.  Open shirt with gold medallions? Check.  Impossibly white booties? Check.  More drama than an episode of Jersey Shore? Love it.

Support vehicles rolling through ahead of the riders

The organisation on-course was loose, to say the least.  It seemed that every man and his dog was having a go riding up the hill, until about 6 minutes before the riders rolled through.  With hours to spend waiting on a sideline, a certain atmosphere develops and it was a lot of fun laughing with the Spanish, Norwegian and Basque supporters near us and cheering on the brave souls giving it a go.

Lollies!

Eventually the fog burned off and the race caravan began to roll through with outrageous floats throwing out a ton of free crap (nylon frisbees, vouchers for 1% off bread, sachets of laundry liquid showered from a float complete with male go-go dancer).  It was priceless watching grown men running about, lolly-scramble style, for packets of jellybeans and novelty key rings.  I have a suspicion that guys value free stuff far beyond anything they pay for - the caravan madness certainly did nothing to dispel this theory.

Random bakery-on-wheels in the caravan

Nick's dragon-hoard of free crap

After the thrill of free plastic crap and male go-go dancers advertising laundry liquid, the helicopters descended upon the hillside and the riders rounded the corner.

Helicopters descending on the action

Bradley Wiggins casually caning it up the hill

The main peloton

After about a decade of thinking 'it would be so great to go to the Tour one day', it felt surreal to suddenly find myself casually on the sideline as a yellow jersey passed us, then a green, the peloton only just preceded by a grumpy looking polka-dot jersey... to see the action as team riders helped one another up the hill/through the bunch, was such a thrill.  

And then, after the hours of waiting, the riders had passed - the last few straining up followed by tail-end motorbikes ('straining' = still going at a clip I could only dream of managing...), and folks either headed to the bars or packed up their flags and started down the hill.

We did the latter, to our little French village, hot pizza and a long drive back over the mountains.  A full-on day to ready us for the following week of hectic preparations for/participation in the village fiesta - more on that soon.  For now: one happy camper.

Lots of love,


Sarah