It didn’t disappoint, but like all good travel days, this one was improved make more memorable by the several wonderful people we accidentally became acquainted with along the way.

I had researched suggestions for the best viewing spot. The Champs Elysees is obvious, since you can see the riders go both ways each circuit, but it is also the most crowded. Several sites suggested the Rue de Rivoli, adjacent to the Jardin des Tuileries, where the cyclists accelerate after turning out left out of a tunnel. That sounded as good a spot as any, so we made it our destination. We took the Metro to Opera, then walked south. As we were a little early, we decided to stop at a (random) restaurant for coffee (wine for Suzie) at the corner of Rue St. Honoré and Rue du 29 Julliet (named for a popular uprising that took place in 1830). Sitting next to us were two English gentlemen, a father and son, who we discovered were also there for the Tour, and who had been on the Col de Tourmalet for Stage 17. Very friendly folks, they told us about a small hotel they’d accidentally discovered nearby, which had a small breakfast room containing a large TV; their plan was to watch 7 of the 8 passes of the Tour on the Rue de Rivoli, then run back to the hotel to actually watch the finish on TV. They described for us where the hotel was and invited us to join them, which sounded like a plan.

We walked down the Rue de 29 Julliet to the Rue de Rivoli at about 2:30. Already folks had lined the barricades, but we were able to stand right behind some fairly short folks. Our exact location was here. A splended spot for viewing, with the Louvre and the ferris wheel of the Tuileries across the way:

We arrived just as la caravane publicitaire was about half-way past, consisting of a series of cars, floats, motorcycles, etc. of various companies. Festive but a bit silly too. Here’s the Vittel contribution:

After the caravane passed, it was time to wait. And wait. And wait. And stand and wait. And wait some more. The riders were scheduled to arrive in Paris sometime around 3:30 or 4:00, but at 4:20 we were all still waiting, standing, waiting, standing. Suzie eventually decided to take a sit break:

We discovered later that the delay was due to some shirt shenanigans by Radio Shack/Lance Armstrong; they had put on “Livestrong” shirts for the last day, but race officials said they had to remove them, which held up the entire race for about 30 minutes. That extra 30 minutes was agony — my feet hurt, my back hurt, my legs hurt. I don’t mind walking, but standing, simply standing without moving, is very hard for me. So ugh, one memory of the TDF will be of discomfort and pain.

While we were waiting we struck up a conversation with a couple in front of us. They were from Hobart, Australia, on the island of Tasmania, and had, in an odd coincidence, also been at the Col de Toumalet for Stage 17 (the man had on his phone an incredible picture of Andy Schleck slowly grinding uphill). They eventually let me and Suzie stand right at the barrier for one of the passes, which was nice. The wait also gave us time to take some pictures. Here’s one of my all-time favorite pictures of me and Suzie:

And here is the girl on the mailbox who took it (she’s the one on the left):

Eventually we heard the TV helicopter overhead, so we knew the riders were coming, and then, suddenly, they arrived. This video, which I shot in high-def (and which definitely should be viewed that way and full screen, if you’ve the bandwidth to do it), really gives a sense of the scene:

What you don’t get from watching on TV is an appreciation of the speed and the power of the riders.  They are fast.  And when the peloton is whizzing by, you can feel the vortex of the wind they create.  Quite an experience, quite a scene.  Difficult, however, to photograph.  I’ve posted several of the better (such as they are) shots on my Flickr site, but a few of my favorite ones are below.

We watched them go by six times, then decided to find the hotel that our English friends had suggested and watch the finish. We found it easily; their description was perfect. We were in a small tea/breakfast room with a huge TV, and were able to watch the last 5 minutes of the race. Being English, they were big Mark Cavendish fans, so were very happy when he sprinted to the finish and won the stage. Then they bolted up and headed for the airport to catch their flight back to London, graciously paying for our tea on the way out.

Something you may note has been missing from this post — the boys. They decided they didn’t want to deal with the TDF crowds, and so went off on their own. We later learned that they had gone to a free choral concert in a church. Go figure. (My question to Andrew was, did you remove your beanie? He said he did.) Later they called and we told them where we were, and they took the Metro to the Tuileries stop in time to watch the last two passes of the riders. We them met up with them at the same corner where we started the day, walked back to the Opera stop and had a small dinner at a little sandwich stop, and came home. Tired, very very tired, but happy. Here’s a pic of Will at dinner.

Oh joy, it’s 9 a.m. now on Monday and the boys just got up, and in less than 30 seconds they are bickering (Will used the last of the jam; Andrew took this as a personal affront). Perhaps they will go off on their own again.

Tonight we’ve been invited for drinks at our old apartment in the 14th, other than that, we’re deciding what to do. Check back for further updates.

• Sore But Happy Feet
• A Walk Back to Alésia

Categories: France, Sports, Travel -- France

Tags: Cycling, France, Paris, Tour de France