The Epitome of tour watching

(added pics of contador and lance that I took this day)

To watch a stage streetside as the peloton flies by is fun, but that will not get you infected with a virus that keeps you coming back. I had a short conversation with an Irishman on the morning of the rest day. He talked about how many people are addicted to it yet are not even cyclsts themselves. They'll camp out around mountaintops for days to secure themselves a spot only to watch a single stage. For a lucky few this year it actually traversed the same climb twice but from different sides and only one was a finish; so they were more justified in the wait this year. Nevertheless, they do this because it is in the mountains that you see how human these cyclists are. As the Irishman said, they're going slow and you can see the suffering in their faces. Yesterday I watched the tour from the ascent of the Col du Tourmalet, an HC category climb that the stage finished at the top of the climb. I felt like I worked hard to get there, but they racers had done like three climbs on their way to this climb. I was about 7km from the top, and it was probably about 8% grade where I was. I stopped there because I had a nice view of the switchback down far below and could get advance warning of the approach. About 40 minutes before the racers started arriving the whole mountain was covered in clouds and we couldn't see more than about 100 feet. Sure enough, when the racers did come through (Andy Schleck and Alberto Contador first) they were suffering (actually, they looked better than a lot of the others that came through). Suddenly you felt as though you should do everything you could to not get in their way. Oh, and don't ever try and take a picture where you're looking towards the camera and away from the oncoming traffic. Even if you're back away from the path the people have created, the motorcade comes by to widen it (literally driving with one side of the car on the line that people are standing in), and you had best be paying attention or they could take you out. Lance had a relatively good day it seems, I saw him clearly in one of the early groups. He still does a pretty good job of not displaying such suffering, one of his known mental tactics. Running behind the riders is also not so easy. I couldn't believe how close the cars or motorcycles road to the back of the riders. I wouldn't dare run in front of the cyclists, but then jumping in front of a car didn't make much sense either.

Getting to that point in the stage was not so easy. I thought that having a bike would mean I could do whatever I wanted on the course up until about an hour before the riders came through. I figured with enough grunting I could haul myself and my bike most of the way up the Tourmalet by that time. I got a late start, hoping that the rain would quit or lessen, and still went to buy my train ticket so I wouldn't have to risk missing the train because of ticket lines (knowing that the machine wouldn't work for me of course). I chatted with a few cyclists that got me worried, mentioning that the Gendarmare (sp?) stopped them from riding up at 7:30am. Nevertheless, this route would at least place me on the course, and though I'd prefer to be on the climb I didn't want to miss it completely. I found the course, parelleled it on the bike path for another 4-5 miles, then turned through a town and ended up riding through the most beautiful gorge (Still pouring rain by the way, hence no pictures). There was a river (that had probably risen 10 feet since I saw it 2 days earlier) gushing through at the bottom, and steep mountains rose on both sides. They had occasionaly covers for the road to prevent falling rocks from causing accidents it was so steep. This was a gradual climb, just 3-4%, and didn't even count for the climb I later found out. I was able to easily pace the cars on the descent that night with the curves, so I know it was uphill going out. I passed a few Col de Tourmalet signs that update the current elevation and current grade, showing 5%, then 8%, then even saw a 9%. I went up some switchbacks that were still pretty early in the climb so I didn't want to give up yet. I was still harboring aspirations of making it to the top, and I knew I needed to get farther in order to have time after the race passed to finish. I caught the attention of some hikers with my helmet cam, and they went out of their way wanting to be on Youtube. It's amazing how muich attention riding with a camera on your helmet gets you. I could tell the people who were talking about me in french, and heard "camera" and "photography", or at least the french versions many times. These hikers passed me while I stopped to down the first half o my sandwich and we decided on a keyword that they might find their video later, as "tour de france" is bound to have a few hits. Riding a little further, passing the youtube stars again, and then the Gendarmare made us walk our bikes. How ridiculouos, we were not going to see the "hike de France", and we take up no more room than walkers, and on that climb happen to not travel much faster than walkers even. At least I had my mountain bike shoes and not my road bike shoes, so walking wasn't too bad, just annoying. I walked another 20-30 minutes or so and then I was told that my bike could not go any further. Well, it would make walking uphill easier, but my knees are not so great and they don't particularly like walking downhill. And the sole of the bike shoes doesn't do a whole lot of cushioning. But I can't stop yet, I don't see the type of terrain I'm imagining for the climb and I still have a lot of time left. So I lock up the bike, transfer some water back tot he water bottles to lighten my load, and press on. I walk past the 10km marker. It's starting to look better, and I'm scoping out for any more switchbacks. I see some good ones, lined with trailers, in the distance, but ultimately I find these are just campers off the route filling any available parking spots around. Then I reach the big she-bang! A full-on grandstand, and 15 foot TV out in the middle of nowhere. This is the most information I've gotten on the status of the tour while trying to watch a stage in person. I can tell I have some time, as they are 56km out still (but I don't remember when the second to last climb ends, and descents can go by fast). I decide this is too crowded and I press on. I find a decent outside curve and decide I must finish the sandwich I bought on the way up, "jambon", pronounced "shambone", and the can of Coke. It proves a good time to stop, as the "caravan" of promoters makes its way by chucking free "schwag" (sp?) out of the vehicles, and I let the singles go to the french kid nearby but gladly grab a "king of the mountains" cycling hat as there are plenty. I finish lunch and decide to go a bit further. I ended up maybe 300 meters past the setup and decide this will do, knowing everything I walk up I'll have to walk back down. I end up meeting some english speaking friends there, they had met just earlier watching the "tellie" down below. A colorful "Brit" proudly raising the Union Jack on a tent pole, a woman and another couple, all here in search of 'le Tour'. We wait it out patiently, and vent our frustrations as the clouds roll in, compromising our advance notice of the riders arrival and the "autofocus" on our cameras. And the rest, well, you already know. I'm just glad I didn't have to write this lengthy entry on a French keyboard!