Le tour de France is supposed to be the pinnacle of my
sport. Tell the man on the street you
are a road cyclist and he will either say “Lance Armstrong” or “tour de France”. So it was a small personal embarrassment that
by the not so tender age of 21 I hadn’t ever actually been to see Le Tour. The Race started in Liege with a prologue and
although only 150km from my house I elected to race instead. Stage 1 was a similar idea; I had talked
myself into foolishly saving money and elected not broaden my horizons with a
visit to the tour. I thought my opportunity
had slipped by when I was pleasantly surprised to open an email inviting me to
go down and watch the tour road side with Joscelin, our Dave Rayner liaison
here in Belgium. The plan was to make a
day trip of it, to drive to within an hour’s ride and to meander through the
villages of Belgium’s Walloon region. I
was playing wieler tourist for the day with my rucksack packed full of the days
essentials. We parked the car in
Oplinter and set off leisurely with just a map and a loose idea of the tours
course. After a rather amusing photo opportunity
stop at the aptly named dog grooming salon…’Doggy style’, it was time to swap
languages completely as we entered Belgium’s French region of Wallonia. The quietness of the roads was eerie, yet as
we crested the rolling hills I began to feel a sense of excitement that
somewhere in the distance I was about to watch first-hand my boyhood dream.
After a couple of scenic but rewarding detours we finally found
a large gathering of people taking up their positions and no doubt claiming their
road side seats with deck chairs. This
had to be it. The crowd were glowing
with anticipation, although this was probably the first signs of sunburn as
many had no doubt been there for hours.
Joscelin provided the crowd with a fleeting moment of entertainment as
she took a rather ungraceful tumble at less than walking pace. She was immediately up and dusting herself
off like a gymnast who’d just fluffed the dismount but she saved face with a
smile and a sudden rush to ride off at a brisk pace. We had planned to meet up with Tim Harris in
order to get a quick taste of life in the VIP entourage of the tour. We turned up at the rendezvous, an innocuous field
by the road side and waited as the cavalcade of support vehicles made its way
along the course. As the convoy of
official skodas parked up, out steps a grey haired man sporting a decent tan
and the sort of middle aged spread only a retired athlete could pull off
without looking chubby. I recognised
this man from my teenage years of being glued to the television watching the
tour de France. The man was Stephen
Roche. Irelands only Tour de France
winner and an in demand celebrity around the tour as it’s the 25th anniversary
since his achievements. I was casually
introduced by Tim, the handshake followed and before I know it he was asking me
if I race in Belgium. I was still rather
in awe at this point and managed a pathetic “yes” before Stephen took over and
realised what I really wanted was a photo with him. He was a true gent though, bantering Tim with
how he looked fresh but how his cool sunglasses hid the previous evening’s 3am
finish. I tried my best to make the most
of my time, chatting with many of the drivers.
I asked about how much a day in a car in such esteemed company would set
me back… “2,000 euros, but you get a glass of bubbly with that” was the answer
from the South African driver. Jos had
told me beforehand that a couple of helicopters were expected with the other
half of the VIP’s. Sure enough over the
horizon came not 1 but 5 helicopters in formation, coming in to land just a dozen
or so metres away. At this point the
drivers were back in work mode and we made our way back to the grass verges
with the main act just minutes away. A
couple of spectators tried to speak to me at one point, I stood there looking
puzzled, they tried another language before giving up and signing off with a ‘vive
le tour’. There it was, many different
nationalities were road side but the tour was the one thing we had in common.
The helicopter camera was the first sign of the tour. The distant whirr is then followed minutes
later by the local gendarmerie on motorbikes that drive through ahead of the
race to make sure there is no anti-EU protest blocking the road ahead. Then the leaders come over the horizon, 3
riders including the king of the mountains are up ahead of the bunch and chewing
through the kilometres. I offered some polite
support as I faffed around wondering why my camera had given up life at such a
crucial moment. They passed in just
seconds as half the road craned their necks to see where the bunch was. A good 5 minutes later and the bunch appeared,
there was no urgency about them as they’re only 45km into a 200km stage. By that point my camera was back up and
running so I frantically clicked away like a distracted kid with a ballpoint in
an exam hall. The race passed just a
metre from me and just as quickly as it came it had disappeared over the next
hill and onto Tournai where ‘Cav’ was to take his 21st stage
victory. It had been a brief but
thoroughly enjoyable moment. The riders
could have been in any other bike race but the entourage and the spectacle
really made the occasion live up to my expectations. We set off back to the car at Oplinter, Jos
had 80km on the clock for the days trip and as I rode all the way home I reckon
I comfortably had a 100 mile day in my legs.
But I can now say I have seen the pinnacle of my sport on the road
side. I would recommend it to anyone who
has even a fleeting interest in cycling as the road side atmosphere is a truly
memorable feeling. As for the VIP
treatment, I think my address book will have to become significantly weightier
before I get invited into that circle. Vive
Le Tour!
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