Category: biking

TdF Saturday July 23

Today we are in Paris, but the race is still bring decided in the Alps. We had the morning to ourselves, so after a big hotel breakfast Vlad and I set out for a walk around. We walked up the Avenue de la Grande Armée, past a drool-worthy array of motorcycle shops, until arriving at the Arc. 


We got all the way to the Eiffel Tower, which looked especially majestic in the bright blue sky. An exceptional melon with some nice Spanish ham made for a very pleasant lunch. 


We crossed the Seine and made our way back to the hotel, passing various historic monuments as we went. Here is a World War I Memorial featuring poetry by Allan Seeger, whom I have written about before.


Then we watched most of the stage as a group at the hotel, and met the final additions to our party: a family whom Mummu gave the trip to after they entered a drawing. They have three kids, and the entire family are big sports fans, crazy for cycling and all sorts of other things. It was an exciting stage, with mountains and rain and crashes and a very tense battle for second and third place. However, as I have mentioned before, it just isn’t the same for me without the commentary I’m used to. I have no idea how much Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen bring home each year, but they are worth every penny of it as far as I’m concerned. Even if Phil does seem increasingly fuzzy on some of the facts…

We had dinner at one of the restaurants we wished we had found the night before, featuring a big seafood platter on ice and a whole complicated assortment of artisanal oysters. Delicious!

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Characters 


A lot of people dress up in silly costumes before heading out watch the race go by. Not counting the MAMILs of course (middle aged men in Lycra) like me, who might be the silliest of all. 

Some people don’t need to dress up…

And PS, I don’t think I took any of these pictures… We are starting to share photos among the group, so thank you Maribeth and Stuart. 

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TdF Friday July 22

On Friday we transferred from Villars to Paris. The first sprinkles fell as we were loading the van, and the rain became torrential as we drove. That was really the only rain we saw… All our rides were under clear skies. 

Villars, as I’ve said before, was beautiful, as was that whole region. Here’s a couple more pics from the Alps. 


The drive to Paris took most of the day, and we were very ready to check in to the Meridien Etoile, a workhorse hotel nicely located near the Porte Maillot. When we got there, the race was almost over, but Vlad convinced one of the bellmen to pull it up on his computer screen, so we got to see the finish. 


Manny and Marybeth had purchased a museum pass that needed picking up, so Vlad and I joined them for the walk. 

It turned out to be further than we anticipated, so eventually we sent Manny on ahead while the rest of us had a drink in front of the Madeleine. 

Sadly, the tourist office was closed, but it’s hardly a bad thing to walk around Paris on a summer afternoon. 

But now it’s 8 pm, and dinner time. Vlad has spent quite a bit of time in Paris, and in general is seldom in doubt about what ought to happen next. He vetoed several restaurants, and so found himself in charge of picking one.  We walked for an hour, but finally mutinied… we ended up having a thoroughly marginal meal at the next place we found. It was too bad, because we were just a few blocks from lots of good eats. 

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The peloton in slo-mo

I took this video while crouched down on the side of the road in the lee of a concrete barrier. The riders had just come through an intermediate sprint point, so they were rolling fast but not pushing. That’s why you’ll see some riders kind of standing up, stretching their legs a bit. 

I have a poster at home titled Tour de France with two photos by Robert Capa: in the first, the crowd is looking right in anticipation of the racers coming by, and in the second they are looking left at the departing peloton. The gag is that you don’t actually see any bikes at all… Blip and they’re on their way somewhere else. I was glad to have the iPhone video camera so I could capture a little more.

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Popular 


Eurosport, which is the network you watch cycling on over here, has improved ratings with the addition of journalist Laura Meseguer to their interview lineup. 

Riders and team staff seem quite willing to talk to her. 

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TdF Thursday July 21

Our final “real” ride of the trip today, bittersweet. After our exertions yesterday Phil made an executive decision to shorten the planned route by 10 super steep km, and that was certainly the right decision, although part of me wanted one more Category 1 notch on my handlebars. 

We still climbed a bit and then descended into Chamonix, the halfway point of the ride and a good place for a coffee. Perhaps I’m not telling you anything surprising, but it’s really pretty there. 


Mt. Blanc looms more impressively over Chamonix than any mountain over any town I’ve ever been to. 

Here’s a shot reflecting an increase in my on-bike photography confidence without any corresponding gain in competence. 


We finished the ride in the company of a couple of genial Italian guys, and indeed we were part of a huge stream of cyclists making our way to the day’s start in the village of Sallanche. We didn’t have VIP access today, but that was probably perfect. It was a time trial stage, meaning that the departure lasted pretty much all day. 


The village turned it into a huge party, and we had a fun time walking around looking at stuff.


 I ate a massive portion of tartiflette (potatoes au gratin with ham), washed down with a glass of beer or three and followed by ice cream. Remind me why I can’t climb hills like I used to???

I was really glad to get a picture with the Devil, a Tour fixture for as long as I can remember. 


We got back to the hotel in time to see Chris Froome’s increasing and imperturbable dominance, relaxed for a while on the patio and had our final Swiss dinner before turning in at a shockingly early 11 PM. 

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Lost in Gstaad

I have the sort of unassuming face that people often ask for directions. Even when I am just a tourist myself, I am frequently asked to help navigate. Sometimes I give good advice,
sometimes, who knows?
Yesterday, as we were riding through Gstaad, I wished I had had the chance to give directions to somebody. Yes, it’s that little road on the right… Just past the Bentley dealership. If you get to the polo grounds, you’ve gone too far.

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TdF Wednesday July 20

Today was all about the journey. 

I got up earlier than I wanted to and took a nice morning constitutional around Villars and Aveyres. I can’t speak to other Swiss Alpine ski villages, but these two are beautiful.  


A fox halfheartedly stalking crows. 


Getting the pony loaded up for a trip. 


I followed the sound of cowbells, quite common in this part of the world. 

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Walking back home, the cowbells were replaced by a sort of throbbing buzz. It was the Canadian junior team out warming up for the day. 


Our plan was to ride our bikes over a couple of hard climbs: the Col de la Croix, and the Col du Pillon, before descending into our viewing spot for the day. The ride was tough but fun, under 30 miles but with lots of climbing. Cruising through the ski areas was pretty great. 


An overzealous Swiss Army trooper (so it’s not just a brand!) turned us away from our objective a couple miles early, however. So, we had a lovely picnic in Saanen before striking out on foot, a couple miles uphill, to try and catch the race as they crested the climb at Schönried before dropping to the point we parked at. 

It got hot, over 90, and there wasn’t much shade. But we met this guy…

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​​After walking an hour toward the approaching riders, we still hadn’t made it to the top of the hill, so we got a glimpse of them in descent mode… whoosh goes the breakaway, pause, whoosh goes the peloton, fini. Hardly a bad day, but not what we were planning on. 


On the way down, we discovered a network of Wanderweg, trails that criss-cross the whole area. It was a lovely walk in meadows and forests, and marginally shorter. 

And then decision time… To ride home or take the van. Testosterone poisoning got the better of me and so I got suited back up, the only guest so ambitious/foolhardy. With my guides solid Phil and greyhound Gene (both far stronger cyclists than me) we set out. 

We bagged this awesome souvenir, which helped make the rest worth it. 


Our first objective was the Category 3 Cote de Mosses. By the end of that “little climb” we all knew I didn’t have much left in the tank. However, having few real choices, we persevered. I recovered somewhat on the descent, and it appeared that all was well. And then, Mr. Garmin gave us some sketchy directions. What had been billed as a 15 mile ride with an optional climb at the end turned into almost 40, including climbing back up the Col de la Croix on a road that was a little more than a cowpath, and in fact turned to gravel for a few miles.

Actually, it was that gravel road that gave me the inspiration to continue. Before moving to Brattleboro, I would have been horrified at the thought of trying to ride over gravel, however, now I do it all the time, and it made me confident that I was in my own element and would make it home, however slowly.

Dinner was a big dose of naproxen, and a lovely pot of moules marinieres. I didn’t contribute much to the conversation…

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TdF Monday July 18

Day 8. In the first week I rode well over 250 miles, 6 of 7 days, with daily distance ranging from 25 to almost 90. More or less as much as I’ve ever ridden in a week (which of course is the point so all good). Some of the aches and pains I can describe in reasonably polite company, others not so much. 

Today was a transfer day from Lyon to Villars-sur-Ollon, Switzerland. After a 3+ hour drive, we got the bikes out and had a quiet ride to our second and final Relais Etape luncheon. I’m not really familiar with that many individual Swiss , but my stereotype of the country was not disturbed when we rode through the town of Concise. 


I again tried the trainer simulation and came in second this time. However, I got a prize anyway, because all of the top three that day beat the best times that had been posted so far, so that was cool. 

We enjoyed drinks, collected more swag from the caravan, and watched the race blur by. 


Then, up a vertiginous drive to our hotel in Villars. I was again glad to be driven. 

This is my first time in Switzerland, my first time to see the Alps. Wow. Take the green lushness of New England and sprinkle it on mountains as dramatic as the Rockies, and put the whole thing at a civilized altitude. Then set the Swiss to the task of making it even prettier for a few hundred years. 


Dinner at the charming little chalet style hotel was maybe the best meal we’ve had on the whole trip, and while still slow, faster than many. Our waitress had a certain je ne sais quoi that made the wait more pleasant. 

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Bike porn

Here’s what a hundred grand looks like at wholesale …

It was a Bianchi, in this same Celeste color, that first got my race bike juices flowing like 35 years ago, a bike so impossibly expensive that I thought I’d never get one. Many years later, Lee bought me one with tip money saved up from Court Street Coffee… thank you my love!

The Manx Missile’s launcher

It’s all so high tech, so carefully orchestrated, with radios and support vehicles and all of it. But at the end of the day, it’s a guy riding a bike and trying not to get lost. 

This is a student project that got featured the other day. Of course Vlad grabbed it and had a seat. 

How things have changed… in the 70s they had 10 impossibly hard gears, toe clips, and (gasp) steel frames. 

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TdF Sunday 7/17

Another day in paradise…

Up early to enjoy our second (and final) Departure Village. Knowing a bit more what to expect, we got some autographs, got a little closer to the “important ” riders, etc. Here’s me and Richard Virenque enjoying a moment. He was a great climber from the late 90s and now a TV commentator. 


Here’s a good shot of the UCI guy checking the bike for motors by running a magnetometer over all the tubes. 


Some teams are more organized than others. At the Tinkoff bus, I watched as a 2-man team inflated tires to each rider’s preferred pressure and then a third guy came along to ensure that the water bottles were all turned to the same angle in the cages so the sponsor’s name showed well for the cameras. 


No oyster buffet this time, but still lots of good eats. These husband and wife wine producers took the plunge to showcase their stuff (kinda sweet for my taste), and it certainly was nice to talk to them for a minute. Very “real” amidst all the celebrity. 


After, we drove out of town a bit and set out on a ride. We followed the course up the first of the 6 (!!!) rated climbs the racers did, the Col du Berthiand (6 km at 8.1%, which is ouchy but manageable). It was over 90 degrees, and I heard Phil Liggett in my head talking about the melty tar on the roads. 

Then we continued down through the countryside along the Ain river, a very nice ride. 

Whetstone Station #2?
Dinner in old town Lyon, which was very nice but, again, inexplicably slow. It’s normal here, but why does it take an hour and a half to get the food to the table? On a Sunday night at 11, the well-reviewed ice cream place we trekked to had a line around the corner, which defeated us. 


And so, although we tried to turn in early, it was another long day. We decided to shorten tomorrow’s agenda… everybody’s tired. 

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Backstage

Every day, just a few minutes after the race ends, there’s an award ceremony. On our podium day, we got to stand in the backstage area and see the props used by the podium girls. Sashes to denote the sponsors, flowers for everything. 

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