Thursday morning sees me cycling into work for the first time since trudging around for miles every day in the Glastonbury mud. Legs seem to be fine which is comforting. Feels good to be back on the bike after about a week off it. After seeing Pele on the Park (another story) I cycle to Pete's and we have a smooth drive down to Portsmouth where we are royally entertained by Simon's parents.
Early Friday morning we cycle through drizzle to the ferry port where we're given the full airport security checks, just cos we're on bikes, no cars have to go through this, and part with Pete who has to get the Caen ferry whereas Simon, Jules and myself get the fast boat to Cherbourg. A quick bumpy crossing with a little light snoozing and soon enough we're cycling out of Cherbourg along the scenic route. Weather is the same as we've left across the channel and throughout the day's riding ranges from light mist and drizzle to persistent rain. By the end we're pretty damn wet including my shoes which are meant to be under protection by overshoes. Think it's getting through the cleats and standing in wet fields for comfort breaks don't help. Lovely rolling countryside, well, the rolling down is lovely not so much the going up, along fairly busy roads with lorries which ain't fun in the wet but we're following le Tour route along the D900. A few stops including lunch stood outside a supermarket cos Team Leader Simon won't let his domestiques (Jules and me) have a proper lunch stop as he needs to push ahead for his maillot jaune. Refreshed the second half of the ride flies by as we're counting down the klicks to Coutances. Lovely descent through town and after Simon adding more weight to his domestiques panniers and a garlic bulb to his small bag we're tackling the L'Alpe de Viaduct out of Coutance. I'm setting the pace and imagining the red polka dotted jersey on my shoulder when 50 metres from the top (we're in France so it's not yards) Simon who's I've dragged all the way up in my slipstream passes me. I was expecting him to sit in front to drag me the last yards up the climb but no, he accelerates away leaving me determined not to be so naive next time we hit a hill. Jules arrives in true sprinter fashion i.e. a few minutes after we've got to the top and then it's a few rolling hills along the straight road before turning off to Contrieres. We've barely taken off our wet overshoes (sorry Jules!) when Pete arrives. We're impressed by his speed but I think some of that may have been train. We settle down to watch Wales thrash Belgium and tuck into a fantastic curry courtesy of the team chef aka Jules. Evening ends with a whiskey tasting session - cheap blended vs single malt - before me and Pete stumble upstairs and into our beds and Simon stumbles into the garden. Don't ask.
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| Simon with the mandatory mechanical... |
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| ... whilst Jules looks on sheltering from the rain |
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| Hay bales as cyclists |
Saturday sees us waken to an overcast sky and drizzle which persists for the morning. We cycle to Monmartin-sur-Mer (not actually on the mer) in time for the tacky and dangerous looking Caravan where jules fights off small children to gather an impressive bounty of free toot and I get a fridge magnet. Advertising chicken stock cubes. Perfect for a vegan. Quick beer and a bite to eat and we're in place strategically just after a corner to watch the race itself. There's a five man break away and a few minutes later the peloton flies by in a flash. The rain has stopped by now and we tootle down to Hauteville-sur-Mer Plage (this time on the mer) where we remember my brother Matt as he wanted to retire to this stretch of coast. RIP. After writing in the sand we sit on the esplanade and toast Matt with cidre watching the sea roll in and wash over our words. I never did meet up with him on this beach. The ride home in the scorching sun clears the sentimental cob webs away and after another delicious meal (I don't think Jules trusts me or Pete not to contaminate food with gluten) we watch the highlights of the days racing (le Tour on TV, not us on a head cam) which is fantastic seeing The Manx Missile Cav back to his winning ways then watch the weirdest penalty shoot out between Germany and Italy and after a robust EU debate it's off to bed with a red face. Not embarrassment but cos I snoozed outside the supermarket. Simon says it serves me right.
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| Montmartin sur Mer on the first day |
Sunday morning. Raining - check. Overshoes - check (bar Jules... Simon!). Off into Coutances through the rain where we are cheered on by Caravan botherers which makes the ascent through town that much easier. Lovely meal of salad and frites at the Tavern restaurant in the main square (the others had moules and horse). We position ourselves on a hill to watch the race and are rewarded by a great view of Cav sporting his yellow jersey. We hang around the main square alternately watching the le Tour screen which is next to a stage with some weird euro disco keep fit trainer thing going on. Ah the French and their music hey! We used to come to the 747 club here to dance with the locals to The Clash, French chanteuse and north African beats. The domestiques laden down with provisions we cycle back home via the scenic route avoiding Viaduct Hill, Simon obviously knows I've sussed his tactics out, and I take off on my own not leaving my summit glory in any doubt. We see the end of today's race on ITV4 then tuck into a lovely north african inspired meal before watching France vs Iceland. At 2-0 we know it's a formality and as it's a lovely evening we go for a circuit of the cows (Jules and Simon, they are actually bullocks) and the horses (which are actually horses). When we get back it's 5-1 to France showing up England's appallingly naive tactics.
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| Coutances with the big yellow jersey |
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| Waiting in Coutances in the rain |
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| Cav in the maillot jaune |
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| Party in Coutances |
Monday morning. Rain - check. Overshoes - check. Hold on. It's not raining! Jules has a personal rest day whilst the three boys cycle off to Granville to catch the start only stopping to look at the upside down boat church where I pay a euro for a candle and damp matches I can't light and we get a great view of the starting line. After waiting ages for the town dignitarie and jerseys to be photographed a thousand times the race is off! We have coffee in the bar by the beach then cycle up the coast stopped for lunch (left overs from last night and frites for me, moules caught a 100 metres away for the others) then it's back to Contrieres in the sunshine. Our first dry day! Yay!! We watch Cav's 2nd win of the tour - he's in 2nd place for overall stage wins and now looks within sight of Eddy Merckx's record. Extraordinary! No football so another leisurely stroll around the country circuit this time doing a bit of yappy dog baiting then to bed for an early start.
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| En route to Granville |
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| Start of day three in Granville |
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| Lining up for photo opps |
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| Typical le Tour shop window painting - all done in the same style by the same person? |
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| Simon and Pete swimming |
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| Sunset over Contrieres |
Tuesday awake to a murky morning and it's trying to rain on our parade but stays off. After cleaning the house we say farewell to Pete and oui 3 head off on our lumpy ride to Cherbourg arriving just as the sun comes out and we have a well deserved drink at a harbour cafe. Uneventful trip back and I pick up Pete's van from Simon's folks, say goodbye to everyone and hang around the harbour before meeting Pete off his late ferry and chauffeuring back to London. A great trip all round. Thanks for the loan of the house Simon.
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| Best thing from le Caravan |
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| Bye bye Cherbourg |
