I first watched the Tour de France fly past in 1975 when Eddie Merckx was in his pomp, but have avoided it since. I don’t like large crowds, I don’t have the patience to wait hours by the roadside to see a 15 second blur, and I hate officialdom telling me where I can’t go and what I can’t do! Furthermore, I am no Tour de France wannabe.
This year the Tour and I coincided in Normandy: the Tour spent its first two days on the Cotentin peninsula while I was following in the footsteps of the Conqueror. I had read online that the Tour was expected to bring about 1.5 million people to the peninsula – quelle horreur! But my obstinacy won out – not even the Tour was going to disrupt my plans. Further, and this appeals to my Scottish heritage, spectators are free.
The night before the first stage I camped in the small rural village of St Martin d’Aubigny, about 12 km from the Tour route to avoid the thousands of Dutch and Belgians, those most avid campervanners and tour followers. The mayoress was a welcoming hostess and I had the campground to myself. In the morning I rode into Lessay, where a large carpark was crammed with campervans and steel barriers had been installed on both sides of the main street. My fears were being realised, but I was able to get through to the impressive abbey church, from where I was able to ride north out of town unchallenged.
It is well known that France goes cycling-mad for three weeks at the start of July. The weather on Saturday 2 July was spring-like: a 25 knot wind blowing in off the Atlantic, an occasional passing shower of rain, and barely 15°. It wasn’t, however, stopping the hardy Normans from installing themselves along the route: tables were being set up in sheltered spots, chairs arranged with back to the wind, baguettes, cheese and pâté laid out with bottles of red wine. By this time I was expecting to be hustled off the road; on the contrary, spectators were clapping my passing, urging me on and laughing when I told them I was the morning breakaway!
After 10 km I reached La-Haye-du-Puits, site of an intermediate sprint, which the Trucker won with ease. And I still had the D900 to myself for the next 10 km to St Sauveur-le-Vicomte. The town is dominated by a large castle bedecked with its own flag, at the foot of which the park was set up as the town’s social centre – marquees, food stalls, beer tents. By the time I had sampled the fine local sausage and the local beer, the caravan had come and gone, so I rode a little way up the road and watched the peloton swallow up the breakaway on their way to Utah Beach.
At the end of the day I rode into Cherbourg, initially along a cycle path on a disused railway line, but this unfortunately stopped short of the city and the last 15 km were a form of navigational torture. Cherbourg was to be the destination of the second Tour stage on Sunday, so again I thought it would be crowded. Still wrong: plenty of room in the youth hostel and a window seat for me in a seafood restaurant in the old port.
Cherbourg has a picturesque port and inner city around a central square, the Place Charles de Gaulle. The square was the centre of Tour activities on Sunday: a big screen had been erected in front of the city theatre, cafés and restaurants spilled out into the open space, there were stalls around the square, and the atmosphere was genial and sociable. It was also warmer: the city is known for its microclimate and the trees in the local parks are testament to this. I claimed a bench by the central fountain with a good view of the screen and settled in for the afternoon. By about 4 pm the peleton was entering the city, we spectators moved en bloc out of the square to the port, watched the riders pass around the basin, and then surged back into the square to watch the final sprint up a three kilometre hill to the suburb of La Glacière where the stage ended at the racecourse.
Peter Sagan won the stage; there was excitement and applause in the square. The party continued till after sunset when the locals wandered away into the bars and restaurants, shaking their heads and still debating why a Frenchman can’t win their own tour!
