Wow. It’s been so long since I’ve had the opportunity to update my blog that I don’t even know where to start. Since my last entry I’ve crossed the English Channel and am back in a land where I understand what people are saying.
The last week and a half has been the best I’ve had in years! So I want to at least offer a summary. I’ll update in chunks, starting with my adventures in Lasseube, Gans and Pau, France, with photos to prove that I did actually witness the Tour de France first hand.
On Tuesday morning July 20, I set out on foot from the tiny Pyranean village of Lasseube toward Gans, where the Tour de France would be passing through that day, just before finishing in the city of Pau. The journey would be 10k, about 6 miles.
The weather was absolutely perfect, warm and sunny with a beautiful blue sky and a few smooth white clouds. Along the way I explored fields of sunflowers, grapes and corn. I enjoyed both familiar and new flora along the road, like hemlock, horsetail, morning glories and thistle. I love thistle. I could be persuaded to move to Scotland for thistles alone.
I wandered along right up the mountain, aware of the fact that I’d failed to apply both deodorant and sunscreen in the morning. There were large sections of patched road in anticipation of the pro riders who would spiral down these paths a few days later. I stopped for a snack and water an hour in, and realized what a truly spectacular walk it was. From under a shady tree I breathed in the rolling hills that have inspired many an artist thru the ages, and smiled broadly.
Generally one to abhor litter, I was amused today by the infrequent little treasures along the trail, like clues to a mystery. I thought I saw tube of sunscreen at one point, and would have used some if it had been. But I couldn’t read the French so thought it best to leave alone. I zigged and zagged across the road to catch the shade. With only a car now and then, I felt like the whole hillside belonged to me. Altho I’d studied the road map, I didn’t have opportunity to check the typography. I thought it would be downhill out and uphill back. It was the opposite, at times a gentle grade, at times steep. I love walking uphill. I could have gone up all day. I was thinking that I should have scrounged a bike for my journey. It would have been hard work but a good day out.
Right at 5k it changed to downhill and I now needed to stop occasionally at a road post to stretch my calves and achilles. I walked on. I examined every farm house and every field. I laughed uncontrollably when a guy mowing his vast lawn was so shocked to see me that he ran straight into a tree. We exchanged sheepish waves and on I went. Not too far further up I could hear electricity moving through the cables of a small power station. That’s the kind of thing that more than once has sent my heart into palpitations and my muscles twitching. But today, I guess surrounded by so much nature, I could only hear the electricity, not feel it.
A young man road past on his scooter with a NY Yankees back pack on and suddenly I was on a sidewalk. A rooster announced my arrival into Gans as if following a script. I saw the first evidence that a hugely important cycle event was about to overtake the town.
I passed the tiny, outdoor train station and stopped at the side of the road to pull on a skirt and change into sandals. I walked up and down the closed roads, looking for the perfect viewing location. There was a parking lot surrounded by Tour de France logo emblazoned barriers where a BMX expo was in progress. I wandered on and chose a flat topped concrete road cone on which to sit and rest my weary legs. Among the small crowd I detected English and eventually got up the courage to say hello to Leslie and Peter from Hartfordshire.
Together we watched as the TdF caravan arrived like a circus into town.
It started with the official souvenir vans and progressed into vehicle after vehicle of sponsor giveaways. There was loud music and waving, smiling people like at Disneyland. I was struck by the fact that they’d be doing this for about 6 hours a day for 3 weeks. It was a sporting event in itself. A part of the tour you don’t see on TV.
We all filled our bags with the red dotted King of the Mountain caps, Haribo sweets and St. Michel madeleines - the Official Madeleines of the Tour de France - that were lobbed in our direction.
I could hear - then see the TV helicopters hovering overhead and I nearly soiled my pants in excited anticipation! How many hours had I sat in front of my flat screen watching the images they transmit, listening to the commentators unpack 14 possible strategies each team might be considering as they snake along the treacherous passes.
And then, like a cold when you’re on vacation, zoom! The most famous names in cycling were all there in front of me all of a sudden. I could have run into the street and caused a bike accident witnessed round the world. But my middle aged sensibilities held me back. Drats.
I noticed Lance Armstrong surrounded by his loyal teammates in a fine position toward the front. And after a 10 minute break, zoom again! The rest of the peloton rode through. Very, VERY exciting!!!
I was shocked by how fast they were moving, about 40mph I estimated from my spot on the road. Even the trailing group was going at least twice as fast as I had ever accomplished, even on a downhill. Almost every rider was on my side of the road too, so it was simply a huge thrill. But this kind of speed also means that it’s all over way too soon. Trying to take photos is kind of a joke. I had no idea who was in the mix really.
One of the ironies of following the TdF live is that you’ve no real idea what’s happening on the day. Some people had radios with them, some were glued to Twitter or to friends’ text messages giving them updates. With my lack of French I was in the dark, illuminated only by the nearly blinding flash of talent that had just unfolded before me, which was more than enough to keep me warm and happy.
Nick had given me an update yesterday, explaining that Contador had won the stage because of an unfortunate chain fiasco for Schleck. He had seen it on the tiny TV in the village bar, where he was the only one around. It’s apparently owned by the same guy who runs the campsite. So I’ve vowed to check it out later.
Having been chatting now with Peter and Leslie for several hours, we decided to wander up the road together for a bit of wine tasting. Sweet whites were the specialty of the winery and we took in their whole array - 12 in all. I had passed these vineyards on my walk in. It was magical, and I’ll never forget our charming French host who went on and on about how their wines are fantastic with ‘cheap cheese.’ I did let him know eventually that it was pronounced ‘sheep’, but it gave the three of us a great laugh for awhile. As the sun began to droop my new friends kindly gave me a lift back across the 6 miles of hills to the campsite. We exchanged email addresses and said our goodbyes.
We arrived 2 minutes after a wild downpour had begun and I got soaked running from their car to my tent. My tent windows were open so I dashed around the outside to close them. Altho there was a river running at the edges inside, my bed was safe and most of my things dry. Instinctively I grabbed my borrowed towel to dry the floor, which in hindsight may not have been the best idea. I should really have sacrificed a shirt instead.
For the next half hour I collected the streams into pools by pressing my fingers down into the ground and creating little downhills. I then used the lid of my water bottle as a tiny little bale, and managed to get most of the water out. It was hot and humid and I was caked in sweat. I tossed on my swim suit and stepped outside to shower in the rain, but at that very moment it stopped. So, I buggered off to the shower block instead with my wet towel. It felt really nice, altho I discovered that I’d managed to leave soap off my packing list. Drizzling again, I nipped back into my South African military issue tent and let my mind wander around the stories this shelter could probably tell. Damp inside I made peace with the fact that it probably would be for the rest of my stay.
I got things organized and ate the pistachio nuts and a few dried apricots I'd had in my bag all day. Oo and the Official Madeleines of the TdF that had been thrown at me a few hours earlier. Tummy happy I uploaded my pics. Since I'd put my camera into sports burst mode for the first time ever, just before the riders came thru, I had no idea what I may have captured on film. Turns out it worked tremendously well, except when the main peloton came through. Groan. I think I was so excited at that moment that I held it too tight and missed the group. Oh well, I’d be seeing them again in a few days.
9pm, still light out and raining off and on, I removed my contact lenses and was good for bed. Most fun I'd had in ages.
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