I was hoping to go to Glacier Natl Park today, but there were major obstacles in finding a rental car. So I stayed around here and got to know the crew and other riders. I worked on my bike too. Not much really. There was a group dinner tonight at The Saloon. Pizza and Salad, followed by desert at the Dairy Queen :). I managed to find a Borders and bought a book, tea and cookie.
Some friends of mine are making a film about the Garmin/Slipstream team and they just finished with the Tour de France. I received this post today and I want to re-post it here. It's from Nigel and you can check out his very cool site at - www.nigeldick.com. I thought it was great and well worth the read. So enjoy it, and tomorrow I hope to have some news and pics from the road for you.
And remember - if you click on the pictures in this blog, you can see the full size pic.
After 3 weeks of sun, rain, crosswinds, storms, flat stages, sprint
finishes, brutal climbs and mountain-top finishes the peloton moves
out of Etampes on a hot Sunday morning with much fanfare and very
little energy.
There's joy, exuberance and champagne coming from the CSC cars, they
have a man in yellow, and nervousness and fear from the Gerolsteiner
cars, they've had a great Tour but have no sponsor for next year.
Along the roadside I see Cadel Evans, the great Aussie hope, taking
a pee alone, stone-faced as always. He's on the podium for sure but
once again has come away with nothing - the Nearly man of Antipodean
cycling.
Jens Voigt, locomotive of CSC and my personal hero, comes by to chat
with Whitey.
"Jensie! Are you retiring?"
"My kids want a swimming pool and my wife wants a new car so I guess
I'm signing up for 2 more years of this crazy shit!"
Everyone laughs and he pushes himself away from the car and pedals
away up the road.
Why doesn't everyone race on the final day on the way into Paris?
That's what people want to know. Partly it's tradition, partly its
respect for the race and partly, as David Millar told me the other
night, its pure pragmatism: anyone who attacks the yellow jersey
will get shut down awful fast.
After the soft breezes of the past days Paris is hot and humid. The
domestiques shuttle back to their Team cars for the last time and
stuff their shirts with bidons for their fellow riders. There are no
longer empty hedgerows where the riders can pee - instead they're
lined up along walls letting it all hang out as they get ready for
the final explosive kilometres of the Tour.
The Champs Elysees is crowded and cheering and very bumpy. In a car
those bumps are part of the romance of Paris, after 3 weeks on a
bike it must be hell . After one circuit they kick me out of the
Team car - there are a line of sponsors wanting rides and bottom
feeders like me need to make space for the heavy-hitters.
The lead-out trains form up and the sprinters make a final effort -
a victory in Paris on these cobbled Elysian Fields could be a career-
defining moment.
After 85 hours of pedalling the Tour is over - the wives are kissed
and the babies hugged - and the riders form up with their Directeur
Sportifs who are riding spare bikes and looking out of place in
their civvy clothes and 40-something bodies. Each team sets out on a
lap of honor pedalling slowly towards l'Arc de Triomphe (pic
enclosed).
Garmin DS Jonathan Vaughters is trying to stand on his pedals and
keep stationery, the way cyclists do at the lights. He's having some
trouble with the cobbles. He was a previous lieutenant of Lance
Armstrong, held the TT record up Ventoux and rode 4 or 5 Tours but
famously never made it to Paris. He's visibly excited - it's the
first time he's ridden a victory lap on The Champ.
Garmin's number 5 GC man, Christian Vandevelde, has snagged a stars
and stripes from a bystander and wears it proudly over his
shoulders. Ryder Hesjedal snags a Canadian one and does the same.
Tiny Trent Lowe borrows an Aussie flag on a little stick and Julian
Dean finds some Kiwis in the crowd to have his picture taken with.
Christian Prudhomme, CEO of all things TdF shakes everyone's hands
and smiles.
I shout across to one of the ladies from the Slipstream office in
other team car: she's a single Mom of a certain age, has never been
to France, and here she is riding a Team Car down the Champs Elysees
as the crowds cheer her on.
"Can you believe this? Will anyone ever believe you if you tell them
this was your first drive into Paris?" She's visibly moved as we all
are.
Twenty minutes later the big blue whale of a team bus has gone and
the riders have ridden off to their hotel. After all these tough
weeks on the bike they can't get seem to get off. Half the team were
rookies and they've all made it to Paris - their bodies have changed
while I've watched the ride and they've all suffered horribly.
For me there is a quick meal and 2 hours packing in a smelly RV
parked on the edge of the Place de la Concorde. It's been an
extraordinary journey but right now all I want to do is go home and
hug my girl who I love so much ...and ride my bike.
ILL PIRATA
CDG airport, Paris, Gate A51
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